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Jul. 1st, 2009


Small part of the script.

Wrote it in like, 5 minutes.  Not that great yet.  In fact, not good at all.  Very basic rough draft.

Open to a young man, early twenites with short black hair standing on a balcony.  Looks somewhat sad.  Lighting is dim and somewhat blue.  Another young man comes in, somewhat taller then the other, with a goatee and a sweater.

Robert: "Raven, can you hear me?"
Raven: "What?  Oh...Hi Robert."
Robert: "What are you doing out here?  It's winter.  Come back inside."
Raven: "Yeah, just give me a second.  I'll be in."

Robert exits through the balcony door.  The camera angels down to the street below.  A black figure, a boy, and a girl all look up at Raven while he looks back at them.  Raven casts one final glance before heading inside.  As he enters, he sees the boy sitting in the lazy chair, legs stretched out over the side.

Raven: "Don't sit like that, Five, you'll break the chair."
Five: "Oh, pardon me for wanting to be comfortable.  But I wouldn't even be sitting here if you'd go and get a damned piano.  Then I could play for you.  I could play sonatas and nocturnes, and then, while you sleep, I could slip a piano wire so cautiously around your throat and tug until the brathing stops."

Raven sits opposite of him, staring the boy down while chewing on a fingernail.  Five smiles sarcastically before walking out of the room, passing right through Robert who enters at the same time.

Robert: "Who you talkin' to, babe?"
Raven: "No one, love.  Just myself again."

Robert smiles at Raven, and sits down next to him on the couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

Robert: "Have you eaten yet today?"
Raven: "No. Why, you cooking?"
Robert: "No, Rose and Tara are."
Raven: "Oh dear, Rose, in the kitchen?  God lord, we all might die tonight."

Robert and Raven share a laugh and head into the kitchen.  The lighting gets warmer and more lively as they enter.  Two ladies, Rose and Tara, and busily cooking.  Tara is looking through a cookbook while Rose slices vegitables on the counter.

Tara: "Hey!  No coming in here until it's done!  Got that?"
Rose: "Yeah, it'll be another fifteen minutes, so shove off, ass bandits!"
Robert: "Young lady, don't make me spank you!"
Rose: "Oooh, daddies going to spank me!  Help mommy!"

Rose runs and hides behind Raven, who moves out of the way as Robert rushes toward them.  He takes Rose, bending her over his knee, and three resounding slaps can be heard, as well as Roses whining and laughter from the others, as the camera pans off.

Open to a small bedroom, focus mainly on the bed.  Two people, Raven and Robert, lay next to each other.  Robert breathes softly in his sleep, but Raven stares blankly at the ceiling, breathing even but deep.  He sighs, leaving the bed to go out onto the balcony again.  Outside, a girl waits for him on the lawn chair.

Crystal: "That was faster then normal.  Usually when you two go at it, you last a bit longer."

Raven sits down opposite of her in another lawn chair.  As the camera view is blocked by the chair, Crystal dissapears, reappearing after a sudden angle change.

Raven: "Sorry the show wasn't to your viewing pleasure tonight, Crystal.  I'll try harder next time."

Crystal smiles coldly at Raven, and once again dissapears as the camera is momentarily blocked by Roberts head.

Robert: "Babe?  What are you doing out here again?  It's like, zero degrees and you're hardly wearing anything.
Raven: "Sorry babe, I just needed some air.  I'll be back in momentarily."

Robert sits down in the chair Crystal had occupied, and Crystal reappears behind Raven, though Robert doesn't seem to notice her.

Robert: "Is something bothering you?  You know you can always tell me, or Tara.  She is your psychiatrist.  Have you taken your meds?"
Raven: "(nods) Yeah, I took it a few hours ago.  It's not that.  I just like the cold.  You know.  Adds mystery to the night."
Robert: "(stands up, moving behind Raven to wrap his arms around the smaller man.  Crystal moans out comically in the background, now sitting on the edge of the balcony, haphazardly swinging her legs over the side.) You sure babe? You've looked alittle down all day.  Is the medication even still working?  Do we have to go get new stuff?"
Raven: "No, babe.  I'm fine, really, I am.  Go back inside.  Go to sleep."

Robert kisses Raven before going back inside, but leaving the door somewhat ajar.  Crystal moans out again, and though the camera is facing her back, it is obvious she is masturbating.  Raven gets up, scoffing, and lightly pushes her.  She curses and falls from the balcony.

Raven: "Maybe falling from the fifth floor will do you some good.  Get you out of my hair for a while."


Raven doesn't like public masturbation.  So he pushes people off of fifth floor balconies to their death.  It's true.



If there was ever a more disgusting thing then leftovers from last night's dinner, I've yet to see it.

And the lights are all dim, the sun hiding behind clouds.  Everything has a blue tint to it, like some movie were secretly everything's disturbing, but the main character has yet to figure it out.

That left-over Texas toast is alive, and shall eat you in revenge for it's fallen brothers!

But I lost my script, so I don't know my lines very well.

It goes something like:

"Are you ever going to put this in the fridge?  It's starting to mold, you know."

I should write a script.  In fact, I shall.  Right now.  I'm writing a movie.

I already know who I'm casting for what, too.

Character Overview:

Raven Darkholme (Shane)
A young man in his early twenties who's dealing with a severe case of depression.  He lives in a small apartment with his boyfriend, and three friends.  He's also somewhat delusional, and hallucinates from time to time.  Writes for a newspaper.

Robert Grehyer (Tommy)
Raven's live-in boyfriend.  Roughly two years older then Raven, Roberto is a rather happy person, though he has some mental issues, and thoughts of suicide/homicide.  Is a bartender.

Tara Flegmatt (Kristine)
One of the girls living with Raven.  She's a year older then Raven, and has issues with being in a romantic relationship.  Sing's perfect soprano, and is a psychiatrist.

Rose Swarlos (Robey)
Another of the girls living with Raven.  She's also a year older then him, and suffers from multiple personality disorder.  She has a large collection of knives, including butcher knives and straight razors.  Likes cats, and is "gainfully unemployed".

Irene Celpho (Cody)
The last room mate at the apartment, Irene suffers acute paranoia and O.C.D., but manages to live her life around that fact.  Know to many as "I.C.", she works as a photographer for the same newspaper Raven works for.

Crystal (Nikki)
One of Raven's hallucinations, who watches all of the room mates shower.  She's rather perverted, and tells Raven to fuck people.

Number 5 (Zach)
The second of Raven's hallucinations, know as "Number Five", or just Five for short.  Laments about the apartments lack of a piano.  Tells Raven to kill people, mostly with piano wire.

The Shadow (Undecided)
The last of Raven's hallucinations, The Shadow does not speak, nor does it move once it shows itself.  IT simply stands, stares and breathes.  Even in broad daylight, it is completely covered in shadows.  Mentally attacks Raven with thoughts of him brutally murdering all the other room mates.


I'll post up the first part of the script when it's done.

Jun. 17th, 2009


Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo

I hate people.  But mostly, I hate needy people.  I hate people who don't seem to be able to do anything for themselves, and need to ask me to do the most simple, mundane things for them, as though they can't handle themselves.

And I hate hypocrites.  Especially the ones who deny their hypocrisy like it's impossible for them to do.  Listen, people, I try and get up their as much as possible.  It's not my fault that driving two hundred miles every single day isn't the most important thing to me.  I do have things I need to do.  I actually do have a pseudo-job now, and that keeps me busy, and besides that, I don't have a license yet.  And I don't see anyone jumping up at the chance to come and visit me, either.  If you think it's so easy for me to jump up and come down there, then I'll just have to assume it's just as easy for you to do it.  Stop bitching and whining at me because I'm not down their every day.  And it wasn't my choice to move back in with my mom.  It was either leave, or live on the street, because my dad had kicked me out.  Don't act like I took the option in some selfish moment of stupidity, because I didn't.  I did it because I like being alive.

And also, I hate lairs.  I hate it when people promise me something, and then don't deliver.  Like my mother, who promised Tommy would be back and spending the summer with me.  And yet, here I am, still alone and miserable, having nothing to do other then to listen to other people whine, bitch, moan and complain about everything in there fucking life. 

Such as:
Kim: "My life is so hard, because I can't lose any weight and my parents figured out I smoke and now I can't, and I don't understand why everything has to be so unfair."  She wouldn't have any trouble losing weight if she'd actually fucking try to every once in a while.  She's not old enough to be smoking anyway, and so I'm not to surprised her parents, who had a close friend die of lung cancer, and who's house has burned down twice already, would dislike her smoking.  Not that unbelievable. 

If you want me to come down, some down here first.  If you want to bitch at me about how much your life sucks, find someone else to whine at, because I'm not taking this shit anymore.  If you're going to fucking lie to me, don't, because I'm not fucking stupid.

I fucking hate life.

Coeur de L'eau

J'ai tenu compte de tous les sortir de cet enfer que nous avons faits pour nous-mêmes. Je pensais, au début, que je puisse par la dernière, et il serait tout fin rapidement, et vous serez de retour. Mais, oh, combien j'ai été mauvais. Je suis à mon point de rupture à long terme. J'ai atteint le sommet absolu de l'instabilité. Je peux pas durer. Je me donne, au plus, une semaine, peut-être plus, avant de finalement snap complètement. Je suis à peine réussi à me tenir en même temps comme il est. J'ai besoin de vous connaître. J'ai besoin de vous ici. Ne laissez jamais de moi. Je ne vous laisserai pas.

Je mourrais pour vous, et vous seul. Je vais vivre pour vous et vous seul. Jusqu'à mon dernier battre les cœurs, de sorte qu'elle doit être.

May. 6th, 2009


The Moral Gray Area

I miss you so much.  I wish everyone around here would leave me alone until you get back.  I can't stand being with them and knowing that you're not there.  All there words flow out of their mouths, and in one ear and out the next.  My focus drifts, and my already amazing ability to completely not care about them is growing at an alarming rate.  They seem to drift away from me, and I both love and resent them for it.  I'm being redundant, but I don't care.  If they try to hang out with me, I make up excuses to avoid them.  If they leave me alone for to long, I call them  bad friend for having ignored me.  My mind is split worse then ever, and I need you here to make sense of anything and everything.  

And so I drift.  I float ever so gently from friend to friend, and end conversations before they ever begin, as to avoid talking to the person I'd just sought out for company.  I like the quiet now, but at night I need music.  I need noise.  I need it to be loud, so as to muffle out the chaotic sounds of your non-existence within my room.  When you left, it's like a black hole opened up in the space you once occupied in my life.  And it sucks everything in.  Colors (I fear I'm going color blind without you here.  Sometimes everything takes on a dreary shade of gray), people, life, fun, everything just spirals into the void of the space you no longer occupy.  

Everything feels like it's just taking up space and time in my life, and is meaningless.  People, games, even music only manages to hold my interest for a moment or two before I completely stop caring and move on to the next thing that manages to entertain me for a moment or two.  You kept me occupied.  You amused me, held my interest like no one and nothing has ever been able to.  And now with that comparison, everything else just doesn't feel right.  Like it's something I shouldn't do.

And I cry alot more, too.  Not that I'd ever tell you that one the phone.  The words just seem to fit better coming from my figners then they do my mouth.  I cry even more on those nights where I just barely get a moment to talk to you, or we don't talk at all.  Hell, I'd even perfer you arguing and bickering with me about some random nonsensical crap then not hearing from you.

I cry so much now, it's impossible to keep eyeliner on for more then an hour or two before I have to redo the whole thing or look like a runny mess for the rest of the day.  And the tears just come, without warning.  No sobbing, no hysterical weeping like I did on Halloween, or on the day you left, just random tears that start falling and don't stop for minutes at a time.  Sometimes I don't even notice, they just come and it takes someone else going "Shane, you're crying again" before I'll even notice that my eyes and cheeks are wet and salty.

"Together forever."
May not even death do us part.

"Sweet screams and hollow dreams."
Moonbeams and bat-wings, my love.

"Remember, remember, September 21."
There's nothing that rhymes with that!

I love you, babe.
"I love you too."

And I miss you alot.
"I miss you too."


I hate it when the goodbye comes at the end.


Writer's Block: Seven Days

Which day of the week do you least look forward to? And which one do you most anticipate?
I least look forward to Wednesday.  Hardest day of the week.  Inbetween two weekends.
I most anticipate Saturday.  No school, which is great.  Lounging around all day.  And sex with Tommy when he's here.

Oh yeeeeeeah.  Saturdays are good.


Writer's Block: Confidences

Who do you think it is easier to talk about your problems with: your friends, your family, or strangers?
Complete strangers.  There is a good chance you'll never have to see them.  Ever again.

Writer's Block: Theme Song

What song would you choose as the theme song for your life?
Tegan & Sara - Superstar
Evanescence - Good Enough


Writer's Block: The Greenest Grass

Who has it easier—men or women? Why or why not?
Men. No periods.  No childbirth.  No make-up (Unless you do wear make-up, that is).  Never having to worry about whether your hair looks utterly perfect, not having to deal with flatirons, hair straighteners and the like.

Men have it way easier.


Writer's Block: Witness Protection Name Change

People who enter the Witness Protection Program have to change their names. If you were in that situation, which new name would you choose?
Aerin Gray.

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