///FIRST FEATURE 6.27.10

page 38.

i don't know what's wrong. granted, it's only been a couple days like this... but i can't seem to find a spark. nothing is going down with ease. i'm fighting for every word. i feel like i like the new changes in the outline... yet i feel like i'm undoing them as i go along.

i have a couple days off where i won't be able to work on it at all. maybe it just needs time to breathe.

maybe i need time to breathe.

He kicks him again and again and again.

WOMAN (CONT’D)
You’re going to spoil him.

The Man stops.

i stop. i just wish the ants would too.

free write iv

i can hear, i can feel the warm breath of bones. the cool breath of dust. and it will astral project. it will find itself a phosphorescent cloud in the sky. it will reach out with lights, with arms with luminescence. it will want to touch the ground it will try and find me. but i won't be for want. i won't be digging holes in the ground. i will welcome it's quaking firecracker fingers. i will let it pull me up to the haze. and i will see.... i will see what ive always seen and i will fall. back to earth, and it will take days. it will take days until i find my way, i find my way between the hills. i still have dreams. and dreams seem to be all i can talk about. i find myself longing for dark. i want it to come in robes. i want it to come alone. share a little drink with me and chase the day away. i will let it fall. let night fall down my throat and through my lungs. because i... because i want you out of my blood. i would spill it if i could. if i was a glass. i would simply spill it. fill the tub. stop the drain,and im sure we could lazily bathe. we could bathe. we could bathe. and we would be made, made for sheets and other clean things. but there are things much more simple and hidden. im not sure, but i think you can play the keys, if it's not the keys then im lost, because i hear the buz. i hear it on the wind. it's calling "im calling for you motherfucker." i can hear it hear me. and gone. gone gone gone gone from this dirt. this dearth. this mirth. there were, there were... iwant there to BE. i want the future. i want the future like the future creeps. it moves along at a suggested speed. plead. breathe. and i can see us. i can see it. and i want. i can stall. i can find my way down the stairs and flip stones. flip the concrete and find the ants falling in waves. i wish i could ignore this. i wish i could just run to the sea and stare at the sun. i wish it would lose it's teeth. find this animal stalking the brush. and its teeth wouldfall, not one by one, but as a curtain falling on a stage, during rehearsal. but im pausing for too long. i have to watch the sky. i have to collect the dust. brush it away, i have to keep warm. i have to keep cool. there are things i kick with my toes and things i flick with fingers. but most of all there are things ive spent. ive spent my luck. ive spent my trust. and ive taken off all of my clothes. ive found myself nude. and ive found myself gone in front of you. and there are bones reaching out for me. there are tears tearing me apart. there are things i wish i would have never said (as much as i know thats a lie) i would haveswallowed them for us. for you. taken them like stones. swallowed and out to sea. swallowed them like glass. break the light and swallow the shards. and it will glow. i will light. and i will dig. and i will lie. i will lie and look at the jellyfish dancing /moaning/glowing in the sky. a spooky action at a distance.

///FIRST FEATURE 6.24.10

34 pages in.

i may have written 4 pages tonight, but i just could not find a rhythm. i may have gotten thru a couple of beats, but none of it really feels like it's clicking, like it's singing. i just feel... off. but i'm pushing on. i just need to hit certain things and follow it thru. it's all going to change in editing. it always does.

it.
always.
does.

how 'bout that free write iii?

horrid.

ha. i knew some would be terrible... time to step on.

you can't dwell on failure. it will only make you cautious.

free write iii

artichoke. pomegranate. split open, splayed with fingers. the oil, the nectar. i want you to dance on my tongue. i want to open the night. i want to own all of the things that crawl. i want to slip under the crashing waves. the crashing digital waves. buzz. hiss. hiss. but, but and i say but. there are ships. there are interstellar ships. that travel around the gravity. that wait. that wait for time to pass like so many arrows shot over your fence. your fences. into your garden. into your garden as i hav said. i need to lose control here. i need to open the taps i can feel it holding me from my chest i can fell me wanting to open. to hewn. to unhem. i dont know what i dream about anymore. i just leave room. i leave room to unfold, but everytime i wake, i find myself on my side. i find the plane lkzlk., m. thats cheating, those arent words. this is too bound. too contrived. i cant let it slip. i want to hold it too close. i want to drown this. like a bag of kittens. im grasping for threads. for red threads. from my fingers thru the serpentines. a big fucking pile of snakes. my muscles are knotted like a big fucking pile of snakes. and my fingers fall like wet stumps. broken branches. snap crack. dont you dare stop. there is too much distance to cover. but my eyes are heavy and this is going no where. im driving in circles i cant find the on ramp. my feet are dirty and i can only think of sleep. but that door doesnt. open. i dont find it takes me anywhere. there are roomss you dont come back from. there are rooms pregnant with sunlight. i remember a few things about that morning. i remember a few things as i dance. as i dance around this fire. the un fired fire. blown out by the wind and sizzled. sizzled by the rain. this should be shown to no one. i cant find my way through the dark. this is getting worse. i cant open my brain. my eyes wont focus. focus. i just want to pund the keys because i cant find the fucking bottom of this page. i can feel it cast. i want to turn over. i want to feel the world turn upside down as i go under. i can see the turbulent see. i can feel it list, i can see the caps so high. the caps so high of surging tides, all bent. all black on turning me over and it does. it turns and im under. and i cant find up. and i cant find down. but i just end right back up again and right back down, turning again and again and a gain and again. this shouldnt be read. this shouldnt be a language. this isnt lucky and its nto going to end. its too conscious. if there is such a thing. i used to want to live forever. scatterbrained and self edited. there is nothing too honest here. im holding too much back. there is. there is something i would like to tell you but im not sure that i can even tell myself. i cant even. i cant even tell if there is anything to tell. this is. the worst thing that has ever found the light of day. CONTROL. ALT. DELETE. worse before better.

free write ii

you, you or i press my palm flat. press my palm flat against the morning or evening earth. what is it you ask? what does it feel like. its cool. but it warms to my touch. i can feel it move. i can feel the life. the bugs. the tendrils of grass and weed breathe. i can feel them grow warm with prespiration. respiration. and there is that mother in you that loves to see it smile that loves to hold it close like something heavy. heavy as the sky a thin marker of the space between where we live, where we live and where we dream. but i try to find the truth. i try to find my utility. there is nothing more. there is nothing more than all the sum of time to this moment. try as i might i move in this moment. the remembered present. moving thru jam or jelly (helly) never tasted so good. there is a place in you i would like to dig. cake my fingernails with you. watch you unfurl. like sails. like snails. like all those things alive and crawling. there are drinks ive tasted. there are things i wish i would have. it's amazing how many things move like wax. in packs. in packs of wild street dogs. animals roaming the barren cities. willl the wave come and fill the streets. i wonder. i wonder . i wooonelknsda . it moves in different languages and i struggle to keep up. i rmember shoulders. shoulders like jungle cats. stalking sleeping prey. but thats it. thats all i have. is a memory of a memory. a copy of a copy. there is nothing in here holding the line that plums my innards. there is no balance with that divide. i promise to stop checking the windows. stop waiting for something to hold its breath. i am a spent man, spending his last breath. spending it on empty sky. theres nothing up there but everything ive ever wanted. if i was massive. if my shoulders threatened to knock the sky from china, i would lie flat across the continent. i would hold the seas together. i would do my best to push. the... pushe thee. push the lines. push the blah. that was going no where. it's in the earth. it's in the core. i would dig myself raw to hold that molten light. to hold that trembling mother heart. to feel the lava, like first time lovers unable to hold a kiss between their lips. it slips. it slopes. it finds it self followin ropes. to the end. to the mend. around the bend. and it, we, i alone fall, i fall, i tumble and mumble, bumble and fumble. i am the sky. i take it with every breath. i take you and me and she and he. i breathe the stars and dust and ash of billions and billions. they say. they say that the atoms in my right hand are from a differnt star than the atoms in my left hand. fuck you. fuck that. i am those stars. i am still glowing with the light of a thousand gulls carrying the crest the sheets of night. i am become. i am that is. we are what all will be, i am this improper grammar and these mispelled words. i can hear the beams. the berm. and to quote. to recall. to make up... this bends and lists like a broken mother. it will give and it will break down. i am waking to find something beneath the earth.

free write i

somehow it tumbles from the sea like electric. electric sea creatures. with spines for skies threading the clouds through knots, notches of vertebrae. drawing maps accross your back . over the sheets but there are things that i cannot say. things that i can not remember. because they have slipped out the back door and out the back alley. to meet and have drinks and smoke cigs standing in puddles. rain between the eaves. there was a time when all of this made sense, when i allowed this to all spill out. spilling glasses of gin across the table like a dribbling old man, lost with memories. ive spent way too much too much on what i hoped was, on what i hope will be. i need to make this now. i need to take that walk i promise myself. because time. time. that fucking prick fuck. is slipping thru with his veil. his vail with his eyes, smudges of dreams. these things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. letter. there are letters ive hidden. ticked away for another time. there are letters ive ripped to pieces. there are letters ive burned. and there are letters ive promised. its funny the things we tell ourselves just to make it thru the day , just to make it to another person. roads we drive. lines we cross. ive spent these years, these worn and tired years following a ghost. a ghost lead on a line, down a path i thought was mine. but my eyes were closed. or half open. i cant tell anymore becase i cant hear and i cant see. i remember the sand. the sand at the sea. how the tide would wash up and swollow pieces of me. carrying them out to where i couldnt see. sea . leigh. you have to wonder. at least i do. where the time. goes. there are places in this w;e world i will never touch. never. and there are people in this world i will never see. it ends unending. it ends before i begin. ive drawn this bullshit line too many times. there is no me. there is no you. there is only is. we are ilkasd floating. we are not floating. hey, keep this positive. keep this constructive. i am paper mache. i am cardboard cutouts. i am construction paper. reds. frayed edges. torn, not cut. not cut with big scissors. but with the ones that split and fold the paper. there is no end. there is no fucking end. but i will make a path. i will open these doors and i will let myself go i will find my path. i will lose my shoes and walk along a path that i have long forgotten. i will toughen these soles. i will let them bleed and scab. becasue this is my path. and only i can walk it. oh jesus fuck, how miserable does that fucking sound. how goddamn cliched. but at least as the sky. as the sky forgets its name and the morning forget to call, i will find a place where i make sense i will find a place where, when i wake. when i write these fucking things i wont be hitting the goddamn back space nearly as often as i ahve this is my mind and it will be slowly opening one freewrite at a time. one page ata time. warts n all.

///FIRST FEATURE 6.21.10

29 pages in.

i've written another four tonight on my march toward 70, 80, 90? somewhere in there. i'm not all too concerned with the page count as much as getting something i can stand behind. something i can put in front of a lens and say... HERE I BEGIN. at the same time, i'm trying not to wrap up too much in the "importance" of the effort. i'm trying to allow the script to breathe and be what it needs to be. BUT, i am trying to keep a clear mind and not hold anything back. no compromise. not here. not with this one. i know there will be constraints, but i mean no compromise particularly with the characters. they must do and say EVERYTHING to get what they want and need. i don't know that i've held back in the past, but i'm trying to make sure that even at this early stage, i'm pushing everything to its most logical (to me) and dramatic (traumatic) conclusion.

LOTS OF BLOOD will help too, obviously.

i'm not sure what this (this blog) will be anymore. maybe just a place to decompress after a couple pages. think about thinking. keep my brain processing. meta meta meat shit.

a quick note on process this time out: i've decided to go with a VERY loose outline that i've been keeping in my molsekine. and by that, i mean it's a long string of single words and short phrases. i'm slowly discovering that while i need the overall structure, the spine set in - scene to scene and IN the scene i need to keep it very loose until i actually lay it down on the page. otherwise, i feel stale and trapped before i even hit a key. process of process.

tonight's outline was:

IS THIS WHO YOU ARE?
CLEANED UP
TIME FOR A DRINK
WHY WOULD YOU GO THRU ALL THAT?
LEVEL WITH ME
THERE WAS SOME BLOOD
THIS IS A STRONG DRINK
CLOTHES
WHAT WERE YOU LOOKING FOR?
OUT