in any scientific test you need a control element. Some constant controllable variable in order to make sure that what you are testing isn’t being influenced by anything else.
In my case i just now realized that Starbucks is the controlled environment. It’s the same. Here or NYC. the general feel of the place is the same. Same green and earth tone design. Same light wood furniture. Same coffee. The only thing that varies is the customers and the people working here. And sitting at this particular Starbucks on this particular Sunday writing my script as the 5’ oclock throng of people comes in i find myself surrounded by people i’d just as soon have vanish. This doesn’t happen to me at Starbucks in NYC, Vancouver, LA...the people that go there tend to be creatives like myself looking for a good cup of coffee and a place to plop down their laptops and go about the business of being creative. But here....it’s all these preppy fuckers with their girlfriends and their seemingly never ending stream of banal conversation. They are all drinking pink colored frapuccinos. or there hunched over in front of a plethora of Dells, Thinkpads, Gateways, and other similarly loathsome PC laptops working on spreadsheets or chatting it up on skype with these enormous tele-marketer style headphones with mics. And all of the men have cell phones clipped to their belts like some slightly pudgy parody of an out of costume batman who’s kept the utility belt. It is now officially too full of people i can’t stomach to be surrounded by. Off i go.
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honestly. i wonder.
is there such a thing as truth.
honesty.
sincerity?
love.
i really thought i’d figured it out.
but you see my exgf has this blog.
which i shouldnt read but i do.
because a part of me is desperate to understand something more.
and the only conclusion i’ve come to is.
she didn’t have a clue who she was.
and as such i was with a question mark for 5 years.
how can that be. how can you have a relationship with question mark? with a “maybe this is who i am.”
it scares me.
and this alone part scares me.
I’ve never had roommates.
i managed to get through 5 years of college without every having one.
i never lived in a dorm.
the closest thing to a roommate was the year i lived with my ex-gf.
but now, due to circumstance for the next 6-7 weeks i am rooming with an old friend of mine.
and frankly there is nothing as fucking awkward and awful as walking around feeling isolated and alone and having to deal with the roommate and his fucking girlfriend whom i only kind of like. i don’t disklike her. but i certainly don’t want her around all the fucking time. she’s here even when he isn’t. She’ll come over to watch TV or use his computer.
i mean seriously!
and most nights i get to hear the chorus of her porn star moaning and the sound of my friends hand slapping her rather plentiful ass.
right now i desperately crave to be around people that i feel connected with.
nothing feels that way right now.
except perhaps my sister. who more and more feels like my twin. she gets me. but she is also not here right now.
i’m working on an idea. an idea that is so full of pitfalls it could be awful but which also has the potential to be quite good..i think.
it’s a script.
and the idea revolves around and old concept: time travel.
i wonder how those star trek writers would feel when they would sit around and think ...ok lets do another time travel story.
i mean it seems like such a seemingly rich and endless literary device and yet it brings about such a sea of paradoxes and problems. i will admit though that it is delightful to be writing again. to have my head grappling with these sorts of problems.
I feel such a profound sense of alone.
I ache to feel connected.
i long for the naiveness of my youthful infatuations.
i want so very much to believe again...in those little details.
like love.
beauty.
truth.
joy.
i miss joy.
on good days i feel happy.
but i really do miss the purity of joy.
i think i last felt it walking down the streets of boston with a beautiful woman by my side that i had convinced myself was going to fall in love with me....she didn’t.
this is her in the picture.
i love fragmented pictures.
they somehow manage to tell so much of the story while revealing so very little.
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This is the third blog i’ve started. One lived in my old .mac space before iweb came and changed it all. (i've since migrated this blog to blogger)
a second was a blogger blog that i wrote for one woman whom i use to love. it was our way of communicating all those things that werent said in person.
the primary difference is that this is this first time since i was 19 years old that i truely consider myself i writer.
through a series of live altering events i have been forced to realize that despite my foray into acting, photography, and directing i have never stopped being a writer at heart. and as such i decided a blog in which i would write anything and everything was appropriate.
now i’ll have to figure out how to give it an audience.