The majority of the time, I come in here with direction. I grab a theme and mow my way through the traffic.
Not tonight. I have no fucking clue. But I’m wound up like you wouldn’t believe.
It’s been a while. A long, long time. Too fucking long. I could make up an excuse. Coming back from a drug bender with a life altering epiphany? No. That would be stretching the truth. I love you all too much to mislead. Fuck!
And let me preface with a confession. If I drop an arsenal of F Bombs, it’s only because I lack the necessary blend of talent and dedication that would otherwise masquerade my state of mood…through ingenious wordsmithing…in an intelligent fashion. My somewhat sincere apologies.
And we’ll both pretend you didn’t just sludge your way through a marsh of brilliance.
Where should I begin? If you read these often, I wonder if I have repetitive themes…if I seem to come back to the same place over and over. I don’t re-read once I’m through. Okay, that’s a small stretch. I rarely recall what I put here from one day to the next. That much is true.
I did something bizarre tonight…looking back. Something I did a while ago. This little thing called 20th Mile. I put the trailer…meaning not the short in its entirety…up for sake of reference…
http://homepage.mac.com/winburnsmith/iMovieTheater9.html
It was my second short film. I haven’t seen it in…I don’t know, closing in on 2 years now. If you’ve seen me, read me…you might think what I’m about to spout is a hack. I have a very, very hard time watching myself. I made another short, Harmony Battle in January. And that trailer…
http://homepage.mac.com/winburnsmith/harmonybattle/iMovieTheater4.html
I sent it out to friends, family…whatever. The day I finished editing in January was the last time I saw it. Strange…someone with as much self love as I do having a tough time taking a peek. It’s true. I watched them both tonight. I was stirred up before…but like crazy now.
20th Mile did it.
And I’ll be very forward. I understand that in life, everything is sweeter looking back. Adventures painted immortal. Star-crossed, overthrowing love. Laughter that sheds tears…
Actually, fuck understanding. The grass isn’t always greener. It WAS greener. I had all that and more. And I still have that…it just needs to be found, not sought. Don’t spit because you feel like you have to.
Where was I? Right. 20th Mile. It was a snapshot of times where heart absolutely ruled. And watching it brought me back. I’ll never admit a “golden time” in my life. I don’t believe in it. Actually, it’s fucking wrong…maybe even sinful. Every day, every year…take it for what it’s worth.
But my guts were out that last semester…hit by shots on so many sides. I can’t even begin to explain. So many great…and equally horrible. It’s all inside this 30-minute quickie. And not just that last semester, but all four years. And by all four years, I mean my life.
That’s not saying I let all of this go, but right now, I wonder…where the fuck is it hiding out here? In Los Angeles?
Champaign, Illinois. This safe little thing in the middle of nowhere…cold, flat, dead. I can only recollect my life through feeling…and it was good.
…
I used to go to bed and lie there…two hours after I turned off the lights. My stomach running too hard to go to sleep. This heart pumping something more than blood. Thicker, stronger.
Awfully heart on the sleeve, is it? Do I sound like a flake spouting like that…to you?
Then get fucked. I mean that, sincerely. I’m off…beat…or something. I don’t ache for that need to be cute…or secretive…or subtle. You know, the kind of thing you can only speak when you’re drunk or high. Or like the moment before you are about to lose something that you were too fucking blind to see coming. Something you can’t live without?
You relate? How sad. And what a terrible trick…to lead you on a sinking ship, right before it hits that iceberg.
Shit like that doesn’t occur here. Waiting to speak? Not here, not ever.
Fuck Los Angeles…
Fuck the 405, the 10 and the 101.
Fuck the cancer in the air, the cancer waiting in my lungs.
Fuck the fake starlet whores.
Fuck LA smiles.
Fuck LA “souls.”
Fuck headshots.
Fuck meetings.
Fuck lunches.
Fuck promises.
Fuck fake tits.
Fuck those above me who forget they WERE me.
Fuck you. You never were.
Fuck the coke blowers.
Fuck the cross dressers.
Fuck the Hills.
Fuck the Valleys.
Fuck LAX.
Fuck 360 days of sun.
Fuck the 5 of rain.
Fuck this heartless city and the people in it.
Fuck self-absorbed.
Fuck everyone that has turned me down.
Fuck everyone that will hand me the reigns.
No. Fuck me. A 24 year old who thinks he knows everything…who thinks he has a key to it all and that anyone cares. A stranger, lost. Fucked, fucked, fucked.
Fuck me. This last year…for smiling, laughing, humoring when I didn’t mean it. For tiptoeing…playing it safe. For leaning towards the safety of apologetic. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.
No sleeping tonight. This…shit. This good, fucking shit. Where have I been? Too sweet, too kind...too safe? Where the fuck has it been? Where the fuck have I been?
What do you do when all of a sudden, something hits you and you want to throw a fist through a brick wall. Who do you tell? Who do you talk to? This shit…this shit you’re reading. It’s foolish, it’s irresponsible. It’s sometimes telling too much. Giving too much.
So where are we going today boys and girls? I think it’s coming, no need to write an opus tonight.
I watched that little fucking short. You know what I did when I finished…originally? I sent it out. I showed it around with a stamp. This is me. This is my love. This is everything I can wrap my heart around at this moment in my life. No apologies. Never an apology.
I’m not sure at what point it surfaced out here, but I’ve been afraid. Afraid that every meeting will be my last. That every pitch will be mocked. That my words will be picked apart and chewed up. In short, that everything I aim to do will be a complete misfire. I suppose it’s natural. It’s a dangerous business, putting yourself out there. Some of the offices I was in, and that quick were…intimidating. Or, could be considered as such. I guess I can justify how even a strong state of mind could waver. How even my mind…the mind I tote and strut about these pages can at moments become weak.
And again, fuck me for that. No excuses. I don’t mean to be angry. I don’t mean to be anything other than what I am…and all of a sudden, guilt. Fucking guilt like I did something wrong.
And maybe I am guilty. Guilty of doubting my invincibility. It doesn’t happen often, but still…
Still.
Here we come, full circle. Why the ill-temper? I can’t stand growing up…to learn something every day that I pray I could have known the day before. The world’s greatest tragedy occurs the moment you’re content with yourself, your knowledge, your trip…tragic because it only occurs the moment you die. We hit our stride as our last breath escapes. The last drop of understanding. I want it all…I want it now and forever. Fuck me, but it hurts.
And I think for a little while there, I was in danger of growing out of “this phase.” I was in danger of going into a trance that lasts forever…with no one to snap me out of it.
One of these days, I’ll never say another word. But not today...and no time soon. There’s just too much.
