Mysteriously Sleepless Night

Tuesday night I had a terrible night entirely due to the fact that it was entirely sleepless. The puzzling thing is that there doesn't seem to be a cause for the inability to sleep that night, it just happened.

Of course, staying up late and running on no sleep really messes with your brain. For starters your judgment easily becomes impaired and even worse, your mood shifts easily to negative because the impaired judgment makes all your problems seem a lot worse and overwhelming. There's a scientific explanation for this, as was explained by a friend, I just don't remember all the details so I'm not going to bother trying to explain it.

What I will explain, however, is what came out of that night. Plagued with sleeplessness, despite my exhaustion and the fact that I was lying in bed trying to sleep, I finally gave up and got onto my computer and began to write. Somehow, a short screenplay has begun to become birthed from my horrendous night, which is probably a good thing since I haven't written anything in ages, so more on that screenplay upon completion.

I actually realized that this post would be a lot more interesting if I actually posted what I was struggling with (aside from my body's stubborn inability to fall asleep) but I'm not going to go on a long diatribe ranting and raving about all my problems, especially since I'd rather not think about a good amount of them since there is not cure for those diseases except to acknowledge and move on, an action I thought was taken a while ago but apparently ghosts like to linger... that's all you get, and no, I don't want to hear your guesses as to what I'm talking about.

Moving away from that, though, I went into PBS on 3 hours of sleep, finally managing to fall asleep at 6:30, 7:00, (as my parents were getting up to go to work) and waking up at 9:00 and doing my "wake up, get ready to leave and go to sleep for an hour because I have that much time before I have to leave" bit and finally leaving my house at 10 (I went in an hour later, no one noticed or even really cared because there's not much going on right now).

I expected to have a terrible day, but I didn't because there wasn't really anything to do and everyone at PBS is nice and they have brains so it's hard to have a bad day here, but ghosts from the night I had just gone through still lingered about so after work I called up a friend, got some ice cream and let the ice cream and etc do its job. Suddenly the world is better, although I hope that I can still finish that short script... I'll be sure to.

Jury Duty Pt. 2

INT. COURTHOUSE. DAY.

MATTHEW, 22, exits the juror waiting area and lines up outside by the receptionist's counter. His i.d. tag that says "Juror" on it is pinned over the "internet" wording on his shirt, making it read "Juror Predator". The receptionist babbles on about being a juror and thanking the members standing there for being present as though they had a choice in the matter.

Matthew isn't listening to a word she's saying, he's too busy looking around him at the faces of those surrounding him, none of them look happy about being there.

The line begins to move and crowd of people walk through brightly lit hallways and stairwells down to the basement where they are taken to a long sloping corridor. It is as if they are being taken to the pits of hell, or somewhere dark and spooky, like the mansions horror films frequently use.

The group comes to a stop as the come through the sloping corridor and to the foot of two elevators. Little by little, about four or five at a time, each potential juror piles into the elevator and take it to the fourth floor. Stepping out, Matthew is surprised by his surroundings. It was as though they went through some journey, leaving hell and entering heaven, or something that someone might use to represent heaven.

Around him stand great marble pillars that reach to the arching sky-blue, richly ornamented ceiling. In the center of the hallway that they all stand in is a great marble staircase which appears to spiral back down to hell as a great hole in the center of the rectangular lobby reveals us the floors below.

Large, heavy wooden doors guard several entrances to the courtrooms. The group comes to a stop in front of one. The officer leading the group pauses to distribute pencils and paper to the potential jurors. She explains some things that Matthew doesn't really listen to and opens the door for everyone to enter.

The crowd of 20 or 30 people file into wooden benches facing the judge and they all sit quietly. The judge makes a speech about being a juror and the responsibility of the juror that MATTHEW doesn't really listen to and then signals for chosen jurors from the previous day to come in.

One by one additional potential jurors are called up to side bar to discuss what they have circled on their papers and then put in the juror's seat and then dismissed. Finally, after 30 or more minutes of waiting, Matthew is called to sidebar.

---Sidebar Conversation Omitted For Legal Reasons---

Matthew takes his seat as Juror number 8 and the judge asks him some questions.

Judge
Please state your name and town
you're from

Matthew
Matthew Chao, Bloomfield

Judge
Are you working now?

Matthew
(thinking about his internship)
Not really

Judge
Does anyone else in your
household work?

Matthew
My mom and dad

Judge
What do they do?

Matthew
They're both computer programmers.

Judge
What do you do in your spare time?

Matthew
Now? Look for work.

He gets a laugh out of the crowd of potential jurors

Matthew (Con't)
I also like to write, draw... sleep

He gets a bigger laugh out of everyone in the room.

Judge
Ok, do you think people in this country
sue too much, not enough?

Matthew
Sometimes too much, although I think
we're getting a little better about that.

Judge
Will that influence your decision in this
trial?

Matthew
I don't believe so

Matthew kicks himself mentally.

Judge
Ok, thank you.

The judge calls the next person up to sidebar to speak with them and legal counsel again.

Matthew (v.o.)
Shit! Why'd I say that? That
was just stupid. I should have
said "yes, it will." dumbass!

The judge dismisses the man at sidebar and legal counsel both take their respective seats and talk.

Beat

Prosecuting counsel stands up and looks over at the jury.

Prosecuting Counsel
At this time we'd like to dismiss
juror number 8.

Matthew V.O.
Yes!

Judge
Thank you for your participation,
please return to the holding area.

Matthew is already halfway out the door of the courtroom before the Judge finishes, he can hardly contain his excitement.

End (more or less)

Visting Mr. Holtzman

INT. BASEMENT. DAY

MATTHEW, 22, stands by the doorway facing MR. HOLTZMAN, a santa-like 66 year old retired teacher. JOYCE, 22, MIKE, 22, and DEE, 21, make their way outside under the porch of a three floor house that very much resembles a tree house. The smell of nature and trees is exemplified as the pouring rain pitter-patters off the trees of the surrounding forest.

Matthew and Mr. Holtzman hug before Matthew makes his exit. The discussions held only moments ago resonate deeply in each of their minds. The degredation of their old school district as well as the nation's education system remain meaningful because so much of it was the foundation for their relationships, the chain that linked them all together.

Matthew puts on his cowboy hat and prepares to go.

Mr. Holtzman

Which way are you facing? This way?

(pointing to his left)

or that way?

(pointing to his right)

Matthew

(Thinking for a moment)

That way.

(pointing to the right)

I'm facing your trash cans.

Mr. Holtzman

Ok.

(Pointing out of his doorway)

You can back into that clearing there and

turn around. On your way out take a look

at my bumper sticker.

Mr. Holtzman smiles and pats Matt on the back.

Matthew

Thanks. I will. Next time you're in

Bloomfield give us a call.

Joyce

Yea, we'll go to Nevadas or something.

Mr. Holtzman

Sounds like a good idea.

The four of them walk out from under the porch, waving goodby to Mr. Holtzman. Matthew takes out his car key and unlocks the car remotely, doing the same with the trunk. Joyce runs over and drops Apples to Apples in the trunk as everyone else hops in the car.

Matthew starts the engine and heads down the road. As they pass Mr. Holtzman's Jeep Cherokee they pause and look behind them. On the back of the car is a bumper sticker that reads "God, please save me from your followers". Matthew shakes his head and laughs.

Dee

Mr. Holtzman's awesome.

Matthew faces forward and takes his foot off the break. The car begins to move from its place in the road and continues on into the distance.

Arizona Pt. 1

"Hey, it's sweltering hot in New York/New Jersey. We should get away from all this heat. I know, lets go to a desert!"

Who's idea was that anyway?!!? (Apparently my mom's, but don't tell her I said that)

Well, I would have liked to have started my entry with "Greetings from Arizona!" but the begining that's there seemed a lot more entertaining so I went with that instead.

At any rate, I'm here in Arizona, more specifically, Sedona, having just finished up day 3, the latter half of the second day and the beginning half of this past day having been at the Grand Canyon (yes, I did climb some of it, camera in hand).

Overall, Arizona is a beautiful place, full of majestic landscape and bright breathtaking colors and heights. I'm not one for the long distances you have to travel to get from one place to another.

I, however, have not gotten any stroke of brilliance or inspiration or what have you to ignite the "artist inside,". There are no images that pop into my mind for me to draw and there are no words that appear and demand to be added to my more-or-less-still-where-it-was-3-months-ago screenplay that I've brought with me. That, has been frustrating.

Despite all this, however, I have discovered that I am still, in some capacity, a workaholic. After having been kept from the internet for two days and my phone being dead for the better part of one of those days, upon return to the Sedona hotel, which thankfully has wifi (although it cuts out randomly every now and then) I jumped on my laptop to see what e-mails I've been missing regarding this music video shoot that's coming up for Nyle, my former Junior year roommate and Freshmen year floor-mate, and I guess that guy that kept borrowing my clothes without asking me the duration of those two years.

I really hope, however, that something will come up soon in the more creative department of my brain because I really want this screenplay to be done.

Anyway, here are some pictures:

I climbed down from there.

and all the way across to that platform in the distance.

Here's just another picture. No, I didn't climb that, although that would have been fun.

More pictures to come. I got some nice ones at sunrise/sunset but I might be out of memory for now.

Oh wait, no I'm not, here are some more:

I guess more to come.

Pillow Fights and Drawings

EXT. SIDEWALK DAY

Over 100 students and program assistants (think camp counselors only in the city) gather outside the front steps of the residence hall clutching pillows. The one in charge of the entire program, RUDY RAMOS, an office dweller always dressed in a shirt pants and tie with slicked back hair stands in front of everyone making an announcement.

RUDY

What we are about to do is in celebration of the

end of this program. It is also highly illegal, but

that's not gonna stop us is it?

CROWD

NO!

Cheers emit from the crowd, several members raise their pillows in the air triumphantly.

RUDY

Ok, so we can't converge in the park or we'll

get arrested.

The crowd starts to moan.

RUDY (CON'T)

BUT! But, we're going to go over to Washington

Place right around the corner and do this right in

the middle of the street!

The crowd cheers again. They're all anxious.

RUDY (CON'T)

Alright! So we're gonna head over and when I say go,

and only when I say go, we'll start!

The crowd erupts in cheers yet again and begins to follow Rudy down the street to the location. MATT, 22, holds his pillow with an excited grin on his face. He turns to NATALIE, 21, a fellow PA who stands next to him and smiles a wide and devious smile.

NATALIE

You're excited.

Matt nods his head in assent.

NATALIE (CON'T)

Hmmm

A blond drama queen in a pink zip-up hoodie from the Drama department starts laughing flamboyantly and causes a commotion around him.

MATT

(practicing swinging his pillow)

He's first

NATALIE

(eyes lighting up)

Yea!

There's more to this but maybe next time. It gets kinda long. However, it does involve me catching pillows swung at me and just beating the owner of said caught pillow relentlessly with my own. It was a glorious 4 minutes of unadulterated pillow bashing before the cops came and we ran back to the dorm.

Aside from all that I have a picture to post that I just did. I've had this image in my mind for a few days and, of course, it looks so much cooler in my mind than on paper, but I guess I'm getting a little better.

I guess I aspire to be him; a *puppet master, the mind behind the plans working from the shadows to get everything done. It's quite difficult now because more often than not I feel more like one of the puppets in his hands.

*I guess the aspiration has something to do with a power trip of some sort. I hope that should the leadership role ever be placed in my hands I would handle it well, but I guess the only way of telling with that is seeing if it happens.

Late Night Musings

INT. ROOM NIGHT

MATT sits cross-legged on his chair mindlessly stuffing sugary cereal in his mouth. Sugar won't get him drunk, which is kind of unfortunate because part of him wishes that he was. Nothing seems to be immediately within reach to take the edge off and the cereal isn't doing anything but make his hands sticky so he stuffs the bag back into the box and puts it back on the shelf.

Hip hop music plays as he stares blankly off. The music is off his friend's album, a friend he hasn't spent any real time with in a year and a half and whose music video Matt was co-producing. The music acts as a nastolgic trigger, trapping him in his thoughts of college life. He longs for it even though he knows he needs to move onto bigger and better things.

It's late. The time at the bottom of his computer moniter shows 2:40AM. He shouldn't be up this late, he know's it's a bad thing because of experience. Staying up late always manages to have a negative effect on him, making him much more depressed than he actually is or has any right to be. He should know better but some invisible force is bolting him to his seat as it always does.

The little voice in the back of his mind screams at him to get up and go to sleep but his body won't comply. He continues wasting time sifting through "facebook" and the past memories that both the music and old pictures manage to conjure up. It's a bad combination and he should know better.

The music comes to an end and he seems to snap out of it a little. Slowly he gets out of his seat and makes his way reluctantly to the bathroom. He's not completely better yet, but maybe washing the sticky sugar off his hands would be a good start.

Kiss My Ass?

The Following post actually happened:

EXT. NEW YORK STREET. 1PM

Matthew, 22, walks down the street with Natalie, 20. The two of them hold brown paper bags of Chinese food that they recently bought. As they walk down Thompson Street they come across a COMIC BOOK STORE. Matthew, former comic book addict, pauses for a moment.

MATTHEW

Huh, a comic book store.

Natalie, who is decidedly not a comic book fan, goes over and looks at the shop window. The store is colorfully decorated, lots of reds and yellows color the entrance of the shop with streaks of dark green giving it an early 90's graffiti look.

NATALIE

(Seeing the T-Shirts)

Looks kind of cool

Matthew and Natalie walk into the store, its a single room with a few shelves on the walls to hold T-Shirts and comics. The selection lies somewhere in between sparse and sufficiently stocked. Natalie and Matthew proceed to look at the contents in the store, Natalie at T-Shirts, Matt gazing at the covers of comic books. He picks one up, flips through a few of the pages.

MATTHEW

Blackest night?

STORE OWNER

Yea, that's pretty interesting.

the black lanterns are all the heroes

that have been resurrected.

MATTHEW

(Putting the comic back down)

That's cool. I haven't been following for

a while. I left off where they started

introducing all the other colors.

Natalie finishes her browsing of the store and walks over to Matt.

NATALIE

Alrite, I think there's nothing here for me.

MATTHEW

Ok, lets head out then.

They turn and begin to head out of the store.

STORE OWNER

What were you looking for? Because if

we don't have it I can order it for you.

NATALIE

Oh no, I don't really... I was just looking

at the shirts.

STORE OWNER

Oh

(pointing to the shirts near the entrance)

There are shirts over there.

NATALIE

Yea, I saw them. Thanks though.

Natalie makes her way out of the store and looks lovingly at a small kitten near the entrance way. Matt is a little slow to leave, still responding to the store owner's questions.

STORE OWNER

If you think there's anything wrong with

my store I'm going to ask questions. So what

are you looking for?

MATTHEW

Oh, no thanks, we were just browsing today.

STORE OWNER

Well that was just rude.

MATTHEW

(now in the entrance of the store)

OK... Kiss my ass?

Matthew turns and rejoins Natalie, who was waiting outside.

NATALIE

What did he say?

MATTHEW

He said "that was rude"

NATALIE

Really? He really said that?

MATTHEW

Yea! And all I said was "No thanks,

we're just browsing today."

NATALIE

What a dick!

Beat.

NATALIE (Con't)

Imma go back and write a bad review of him.

END

Anyway, here's the bad review:
The Store's Profile
Natalie's Profile

Thompson Street Comics

215 Thompson Street New York NY 10012

Phone: (212)388-1466

Go call them and tell them how much they suck.