Day 9 Draft 9

Day 8 Draft 8

Day 7 Draft 7

Day 6 Draft 6

Untitled

To me you are a sparkling bride in white,
That in her folly rolls in mire and murk,
Betraying He who called you forth to light,
And gladly choosing tasks for which to shirk,
You sit atop a tower looking down,
And insults fling at simple passers by,
You barricade your doors to shine your crown,
And leave convictions where they fall and lie,
And I ashamed to be compared with you,
Abandon all the vestiges of old,
And though I try to stand among the few,
You push me out and leave me in the cold,
The course you claim to take off often veer,
You are the empty shadow in a mirr’r,

Day 5 Draft 5

Title of my work

My life told in ten Haiku

And this does not count

Bright lights shining down

Naked crying and icky

I came from the womb

Time for switching schools

They call me fat and new kid

I’m not a big fan

Big man in the sky

Invisible creator

Sounds interesting

Women are bitches

So long as they are like Britt

Epitome of whore

Mother is crying

My father gives me a hug

I’m off to college

It is the abyss

It is the Fear and Trembling

It’s the real, it’s doubt

I always lov’d you

Lauren you are my only muse

But I can’t tell you

Beer books basketball

I find that I am changing

Let’s open a bar

Isle across the sea

A four leaf clover dream world

Mine for the taking

Mother Father Friends

Brother Sister and Baby

All waiting back home

Day 4 Draft 4

Untitled

Scene: A boy and a girl working on a college film project.  The boy is dressed sharply, slacks a button up shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up.  The girl is in sweats and a t-shirt.  They’re working on some filler footage for a music video that they are shooting.  

Boy:

So what do you think of a time lapse of this.  

The girl looks through the camera, view of a tree in an open field swaying slightly in the breeze

Girl:

Yea that could work.  We’d only need like thirty or so more seconds of footage if this turns out right.

Boy seems happy with the idea, nods his head and half grins, obviously thinking about something else.

Girl:

One of us will need to stay and keep tabs on the equipment.

Boy snaps out of it.

Boy:

Oooh yea.  You don’t have anything going tonight do you?

Girl over animatedly looks down at her attire, looks back up tilts her head “really?”

Girl:

Let me guess, you have a date with some pretty young thing?

Boy:

You know I’d love you forever if you took the bullet for me on this one.

Boy gives girl the eyes, and the big cheesy smile.

Girl sighs and shakes her head.

Girl:

You’re lucky I put up with your chauvinistic shit. You know that right? You’re gonna take that girl out, take her home, bed her and never call her again.  While I sit out here and make sure the camera doesn’t fall over.

Cut to:

Aronofsky style flash scene  Woman in revealing dress, dinner plates full, close up on boys mouth laughing, close up on womans mouth laughing, dinner plates empty.  door closes.  close up on womans face moaning, hand gripping sheets, woman doing walk of shame in the morning

Cut Back:

Boy shrugs and smiles, Girl rolls her eyes, shakes her head and motions for him to go

Boy:

You’re a doll.  I’ll see you at the editing lab tomorrow morning?

Time lapse of girl watching the camera that is supposedly taking a time lapse, pacing, talking on her cell phone, etc.

Cut to:

Boy wakes up in alone in bed, moaning he rubs his head squinting at the clock through his obvious hangover he sees the time, “Awww shit”. He jumps out of bed.  the comforter flying up to cover the whole shot.

Fade to:

Girl in sweats, flip flops, a t-shirt, bra accidentally left at home, hair pulled back.  Diligently working in the edit lab. Boy walks in the door in khakis and a sweater.  Girl starts to talk without looking up

Girl:

So I take it last night went well?

Cut to:

Aronofsky style flash scene  Woman in revealing dress, dinner plates full, close up on boys mouth laughing, close up on womans mouth laughing, dinner plates empty.  door closes.  close up on womans face moaning, hand gripping sheets, woman doing walk of shame in the morning

Cut Back:

Boy answers obviously with a headache.

Boy:

It went alright. Sorry I’m late.

Girl:

Don’t worry about it.  I’ve come to expect.

Boy:

So how far are we.

Girl gives him a pair of head phones and clicks a few times with the mouse. The video starts to play, and its horrible, so many Dutch tilts it looks like Battlefield Earth. Boy looks a little disappointed and even rolls his eyes once. when it’s done hands her the head phones and turns to her

Boy:

You and your Dutch tits.

Girl looks up with a smirk, Boy realizes what he said and blushes.

Boy:

Uhh, I need coffee this hangovers killing me.  Be back in thirty?

Girl (smirking):

Don’t sweat it, I’ll just tone down my tilts and get out of here.  Tomorrow five o'clock for the highway shot?

Boy (obviously uncomfortable):

Yea, yea.  See you then.

Boy exits, girl watches him leave. She smiles and looks down at her chest and presses her breasts together. She tilts her head to the side thinking for a second, laughs, and returns to work, still smiling.  

Fade out:

Fade in to:

Boy standing on a bridge, setting up the camera. Boy is wearing slacks, a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a tie, and a vest.  Girl enters shot, hair down, wearing black flats, dark blue jeans, and a black blouse.  

Girl:

Hey

Boy turns to say hey and is shocked.

Boy:

Wow.  (pause) How’s it going?

Girl walks past him with a new found swagger, to the camera. Boy literally turns in a circle to watch her. She bends over to look into the view finder.  Close up on the way she fills out her jeans.

Cut to:

Boys hand sliding down his face, obviously smitten.  

Cut to:

Girls looking in the view finder. She stands up.

Cut to:

Wider shot of the scene.  

Girl(smiling):

So what are we waiting for?

Boy(smiling back):

Nothing.

Close up on Boy smiling, close up on girl smiling.  Time lapse of them setting up the shot, chatting, getting a little close.  Sun setting.

Cut to:

Music video ends on screen lights come on, people exiting classroom, professor hands them a paper with notes and a grade scribbled on it.  Boy and Girl stand looking at the paper, by they look at each other and shrug.  They start to pack, boy finishes first and walks over to girl, girl is wearing a sundress and flats, boy is dressed as usual. Boy looks girl up and down. Girl looks up shakes her head and slings her tote over her shoulder.

Boy:

So you wanna grab some dinner?

Girl(grinning):

Alright.

Boy holds door open for girl,  girl then boy each walk out, door closes, blackout.

Day 3 Draft 3

A Mobisian Eschatology

Flash.

The light encompassed the sky, and for a second he had to look away.  In a somber, melancholy, almost heart stopping way, it was beautiful.

Bam.

It hit him straight in the chest, he was knocked straight off of his feet and was tumbling backwards.  The shockwave was so hot it burned his skin and and the debris tore at his clothes. Then as quickly as it began it was over. No, not over.  The shockwave had passed, he was no longer paralyzed scraping along the ground at it’s whim; but it was not over.  His scraped and bloody palms pressed against the pavement as he pushed himself to his feet.  He hobbled back inside.

He had known this day was coming, but it was so sudden, so surreal.  His leg was stiff, but it wasn’t broken.  He was scraped all over and badly bruised which he noticed as he made his way up the steps.  Much of the second floor had been ripped off by who knows what, but their bedroom was still intact.  He shuffled in and pulled off his tattered clothes carefully, and looked at his wounds in what was left of the mirror.  There was gravel and splinters embedded everywhere.  No time.  

He quickly pulled on his Levis, tossed on a t-shirt, and his ragged old flannel.  He checked his pockets.  Phone, wallet, keys, pocketknife, zippo.  The lighter and the knife were probably the only things he’d keep more than a day, but no use leaving the rest.  He grabbed his pack and rummaged through it muttering out loud as he went, “got the Ka-Bar, the tarp, Carhartt, beans for a few days, lighter fluid, shit I shoulda thought this through”.  He pulled on his boots, and laced them up tightly.  He swung the bag over his shoulder and he was out the door.

The Wrangler had been rolled a couple times but miraculously it was sitting on its wheels.  Every step was excruciating, he must have torn his hamstring. He got to the jeep, flung open the door and got in.  Bits of debris pressed further into his flesh.  The engine turned after a few tries, and he was off.  The air was still hot from the explosion, and with the top torn off and no windows the wind made his scrapes and burns feel like they were new every second.  He had never felt this kind of pain on this many levels.  He tried to think of something other than the pain, but it was searing, oppressive.  And then he thought of them.

Were they alright?  They had been in the city, they could have been vaporized, crushed to death by the falling buildings.  He was driving into massive fallout.  Even if he survived his wounds, if they were dead, he was killing himself slowly and painfully just by driving into the city.  No.  They were alive. If they weren’t alive he had no reason to live.  They were fine, he was going to find them and they were all going to make it.  Somehow.

It was a fools dream to expect them to be alive or to expect to survive himself.  Modern medicine wouldn’t survive the next 24 hours, if it wasn’t radiation poisoning it would be infection.  The pain was unbearable, and as he tried to keep this convoluted argument going in his head, his train of thought was hijacked by it.  He tried to focus on the world around him.  Houses and buildings were in shambles.  Cars flipped over, bodies in the street.  People lying bleeding to death in their yards, survivors weeping over the bodies of their loved ones.  Dear God, would there be someone driving past, looking on with such indifference if he found them dead on a city sidewalk?  He wanted to stop, to help, but he couldn’t.  He had a family to look after.  He had to save them.  He was going to save them.

He was in utter agony.  His leg was tightening up, and he could barely move it.  The steering wheel felt like hot coals, the seat like glass, and the wind tore at every uncovered inch of skin.  At least Chelsea had taken the car.  If he didn’t have the jeep he’d be walking by now.  The road was littered with rubble.  The buildings on the perimeter of the city were partially intact, but many were lopsided or had sections broken free.  Most of the lights this far into the city had been knocked out, but everything was lit up by the glow of a thousand untamed fires.

By the dim firelight he could see dozens of looters breaking into store fronts, taking jewelry and wallets off of the dead, and even the injured.  They just left them where they lay. They took their purses or wallets and left them there.  Bleeding. Dying.  As he climbed over a concrete slab his headlights shone onto a looter hovering over a corpse.  Christ, was that?  It was Michael, from work.  He had just seen him Friday and now?  Stealing the watch off of a body still warm in the street.  He couldn’t bare to ask himself; was this what people were really like?  Then he rounded the corner onto Third, and there they were. The jeep screeched to a halt, and he hobbled as fast as he could to them.

No.  This was a dream.  This wasn’t real.  

He fell to his knees he and he cried out in agony.  Rachel.  Chelsea. He picked up his daughter and cradled her in his arms.  Tears ran down his face, the salt stung the scrapes on his face.  He crawled over to his wife, and stroked her cheek. And there he sat, lover and child in his arms growing cold.  A lake of fire around him, broken, bruised, and cut.  And then the ash began to fall down on him like snow and a cold breeze grazed his flesh and he struggled to take a breath.  He coughed, and he could feel the blood in his lungs.  He tried to yell but he couldn’t find the air.  Someone was taking the jeep.  He heard the building beside him cracking and faltering.  His hamstring screaming, his entire body numb with pain.  Darkness.

The television cut to blue. “This is the emergency broadcast system please stand by”.  A mans voice came on hasty and deshovled, “Nuclear war has been (a clearing of a phlem filled throat), has been declared.  If you are in a major city, do not try to take anything just get as far from the downtown area as-

He turned it off and ran upstairs.  He started filling his army bag.  Knife, jacket, tarp.  “Chelsea and Rachel!”  He muttered out loud, his heart sunk.  They had gone downtown for ballet practice, fuck.  Why didn’t he go with them?  He tried Chelsea’s cell phone, nothing.  “Fuck!” he yelled as he ran downstairs, and out the front door.  He made it to the driveway when-

Flash.

The light encompassed the sky, and for a second he had to look away.  In a somber, melancholy, almost heart stopping way, it was beautiful.

Day 2 Draft 2

Shoe Laces

Shit is hitting the fan can you tell me why this is happening snapping into place for everyone else while I’m all riled upside down and inside out the door and it slams behind her insides a blur of emotions and memories whirling hurling because of the morning sickness thickest fog I’ve ever seen and I’m not on the road goaded me on and on until I started to yell bells and whistles went off in my head dread fed up with this job I quit flit split up and I don’t know if she’ll keep the baby maybe the car will be out of the shop today hooray I have no job and the bills have come undone I’m a mess without you blue rue this mechanic and his incompetence conference call with my sister and brother my mother is crying dying of cancer and they can’t save him grim slim odds my father may come out alive drive my own car scarred by the fact that you’re giving him up for adoption the only option is aggressive radiation degradation graduation around the corner coroners office to gather his things swing outside the house we grew up is hiding behind a for sale sign the child is mine but she’s giving it up living this down into the ground the casket basket case I’ve failed all of my classes glasses boxed up and put into the truck out of luck the car is fucked just sell it to the junk yard back yard where I used to play is filled with unfamiliar faces I’m in no ones good graces and even my shoe laces have started to come untied

Day 1 Draft 1

Untitled

There was a time when I would lay with my head in your lap, and you would stroke my hair and sing to me.  It was so long ago I cannot remember a single word, but I remember the melody.  Soft and sweet you would sing me to sleep.  I was your beloved, your son.  You held me in your arms and I was safe.  I was so safe, so happy, so content.  No one ever felt as loved as me.  You were my mother, and you would never leave me.

You were there to teach me how to ride a bike, and when I fell, you stood me up and brushed me off.  When I said I didn’t want to keep going, you told me I needed to, and that you would be there to pick me up when I fell again.  Begrudgingly I got back on, again and again, until I stopped falling.  I don’t know that I ever thanked you, but I knew you were proud.  You were my mother, and you would never leave me.

You were there in middle school when I failed my English class.  You told me I couldn’t go to camp because I needed to go to summer school.  I was mad and I yelled at you and Dad, but you told me I had to be responsible for my actions.  I finished summer school and passed the class. But I never went back to camp and I would never admit that you were right.  You were my mother, and you would never leave me.

When I became ill you were the one who took me to the doctor.  When I couldn’t get out of bed, you stayed home and looked after me.  You and Dad sat in the hospital with me while they hooked me up to the iv, and while they ran their tests.  And when I was finally healthy again you celebrated with me.  But the whole time I never realized quite how much it had been hurting you too.  You were my mother, and you would never leave me. 

Then college came. I grew up and moved on.  My emails and calls became less frequent, as the years went by.  After my sophomore year I was spending my summers in Chicago in an apartment down the street from my campus.  My senior year I had a chance to study abroad in Barcelona.  I never came back.  But you were my mother, and you would never leave me.

The day came when the boxes with all my things arrived; cardboard boxes covered in our home address, postage, and red stamps in all caps that read fragile.  My teddy bear, my blanket, and my tattered old poster of Omar Vizquel. I left it all in boxes in my storage space downstairs. These were all part of my childhood and I had grown up.  You were a part of my childhood and I had grown up.  But you were my mother, and you would never leave me.

Then I met her, she was beautiful and brilliant.  Her name was Maria, and she was very much like you.  We spent all of our time together and decided to elope, I wrote you and Dad from the honeymoon, to let you know.  You wrote back how happy for us you were and how proud.  I knew that it must have hurt you, so I didn’t even save the letter.  But you were my mother, and you would never leave me.

When I heard that you were dying I was on the first flight home, but I didn’t make it in time.  When I got to the hospital you were covered with a sheet.  Everyone left the two of us alone, and I dropped to my knees and wept. I was there when they lowered you into the ground, and I asked dad if I could give the Eulogy.  He told me I could, he was never a man of many words. But it didn’t do you credit, no words ever could. You were my mother, and you never left me.

9 Drafts, 9 Days

I'm going to be trying something a little different over the next few days.  Starting today, I'm going to start writing the first draft of a new piece every day, for nine days.  Each of these works will be based on a prompt given me by a friend, that I have simply asked for a subject to write about and a form to write in.  Based on their brief responses I will write a short piece that will stay at least mainly within their framework.  My goal?  To advance my versatility as a writer, to be an active creator over the next week and a half, and to gather ideas for work in the future.  Well, here goes.

The Only Man Who Could Turn Me On To Folk

Iron and Wine is a band I heard of three years ago in the beginning of my freshman year from the same man who introduced me to bands the likes of Death Cab for Cutie, and The Shins.  Steve Rigby, seriously, thank you.  Now of the bands my dear friend Schtv (above) has introduced me to, two of them now have albums in my top five of all time; one of these being Death Cab's Transatlanticism which is, I feel, given its dues.  The other, is Iron and Wine's The Creek Drank the Cradle.  Oddly enough, I heard about Iron and Wine back in two thousand and seven and I honestly don't listen to any of the stuff he's produced since then nearly as much as his first album.

Iron and Wine is Sam Beam, plain and simple. Yes, he has a full band on his later albums.  Yes, his sister does backup vocals on a good share of his tracks.  Yes, sometimes he tours with... guys, you're missing the point.  Sam Beam's later music, as good as it is, is nothing compared to his first album.  It may be just him and a guitar, however, it was just him and a guitar.  He recorded his first album The Creek Drank the Cradle alone in his basement. Seriously.  This guy lives in Florida with a wife and a few kids, has a masters degree in something having to do with film, teaches at a local college, and in his spare time writes some of the best music of my generation in his basement.  I'm sorry, I'm gushing, aren't I?

You have to understand, Sam Beam is like a mentor to me.  His work is incredible, his beard is incredible, and on top of that he's a quiet family man.  In my intro to literature class we were separated into groups, actually allowed to choose our own, score right?  So Tay Beals, Luke of Luke and Jim's Bluebeedew, and I sat down after class to pick a poem.  I told them, we're doing a song, it's by Iron and Wine.  We then dissected, interpreted, preformed and presented the song The Trapeze Swinger for our class.  We literally spent hours working through just the lyrics of the song.  Studying his intricate rhyme scheme and his careful meter.  I'm sorry, I'm gushing again, aren't I?

Well I suppose I will leave you with this.  When I left to study in Belfast I ran into Sam Beam in the Dublin airport.  Said hey, shook his hand, and made small talk about my studies and his work.  The very next day, jet lagged, no local currency, in a foreign city; two friends of mine and I walked down the street, hailed a cab, and went to see him live. It was possibly the best concert I've ever been to, and it was just him with an accompanist for a few songs who jumped from instrument to random instrument.  Sam Beam proves that he is truly an artist in his comprehension of when enough is enough, and that less is often more.  His lyrics could stand alone as poetry, but who would want them to after hearing him sing them?  I'm sorry, I'm gushing again, aren't I?

Check him out for yourself.  The songs: Upward Over the Mountain, The Trapeze Swinger, and Naked as we Came wouldn't be a bad start.  And come on, look at that beard.

Welcome to the Exhibition

Fastforward to two thousand and thirty dirty thirty pabst blue ribbon college cribin is twenty years behind me remind me confide in me again the way you used to abuse my sensibilities because I was mad for you sad for you and now a grad for you I would do anything the funny thing is a ring does not define you but confine you to another so you prefer I call you lover than wife all my life I've been begging dredging hedging my bets I'd find someone like you two peas in a pod of whales sings us the most beautiful song it's all wrong you know that dress always turned me on again off again are you kidding sinning is what we did best man I expect to have to choose loosing you was something I never could have imagined managed to break my heart don't start with me you knew I felt flat on my face lace and pillow talk are far behind us now how did we get here sneers and jeers I'll shed no tears you're not the girl I fell in love with yes I'm covetous I want you to be mine fine tinsel and twine Christmas has come and I've lost you cost you everything you ever wanted I'm daunted by the task of moving on pawn the ring I bought for a queen I'm careening there's no weaning me off of love hate consecrate your marriage to another your druthers left me in a gutter my heart flutters every time I see a picture of you a dinner for two the hullabaloo is over red rover red rover let Jenny come rum is what I need to feed no starve my inhibitions welcome to the exhibition of Jacob at his finest

Attempted Transatlanticism

The waves crash over the cracked foot path, submerging the rusty bemoaned ladder under salty sea.  Behind the cackles raise up as the two philosopher kings shed their clothes and walk down the tiny pier.  To the west a lonely road gently makes its way through the emerald hills.  To the east, the town of summer cottages abandoned to the cold breeze of  September.  To the west the Atlantic, the states, home.  To the east a far off horizon, an ancient isle, the land of our fathers.  And in front of us a rough sea, and a blue sky, an endless view of blue and white.  We stand there, he and I, naked and crownless kings.  We stand there, on a the precipice of an abyss, that beckons with open arms.  We stand there for but a moment and then we leap. Enveloped by the sea, a baptism of sorts.  Brought back up through the waves.  Born again.  New men.

Strawberry Banana Bliss

I went to Blue Fig again tonight.  Thought I'd let you know the verdict, Strawberry Banana Smoothie.  Worth every cent.  Great Turkish Coffee as well.  Actually, everything I've had there is good.  Thought I'd keep ya'll posted.