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NormDesplum
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For Joey: 1) Are you currently in a serious relationship? A. 2) What was your dream growing up? A. 3) What talent do you wish you had? A. 4) If I bought you a drink what would it be? A. 5) Favorite vegetable? A. 6) What was the last book you read? A. 7) What zodiac sign are you? A. 8) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where. A. 9) Worst Habit? A. 10) If you saw me walking down the street would you offer me a ride? A. 11) What is your favorite sport? A. 12) Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude? A. 13) What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me? A. 14) Worst thing to ever happen to you? A. 15) Tell me one weird fact about you. A. 16) Do you have any pets? A. 17) What if i showed up at your house unexpectedly? A. 18) What was your first impression of me? (hmmm...careful!) A. 19) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? A. 20) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? A. 21) Would you be my crime partner or my conscience? A. 22) What color eyes do you have? A. 23) Ever been arrested? A. 24) Bottle or can soda? A. 25) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? A. 27) What's your favorite place to hang at? A. 28) Do you believe in ghosts? A. 29) Favorite thing to do in your spare time? A. 30) Do you swear a lot? A. 31) Biggest pet peeve? A. 32) In one word, how would you describe yourself? A. 33) Do you believe/appreciate romance? A. 35) Do you believe in God? A. 36) Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you? A. |
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I have a new blog, one that I actually post in. It is located at: http://eugland.blogspot.com If you would, please read, comment, click on a link or two (earn me some advertising revenue and shit). I will be keeping this blog as a personal space, the other is more professional, so... Hope you are all well out there. |
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Well kids, it's been a while since I've bothered to update this silly thing. I still read it every day, so I should do a better job of writing things. The biggest notes are ONE, my phone number has changed to 541 646 2112. This still doesn't do a good job of spelling something cool. ALSO, TWO, I am moving to New York to pursue my graduate education. Cheers kids, I will try and do a better job of keeping this up to snuff. Much love. |
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Again, I'm heading off for greener pastures. Or in this case, smog filled freeways. I'm moving to Los Angeles, and we'll see how that goes. BUT FIRST, I'm off to Amsterdam to work for Cavalia one more time. Informal Survey Red Light district? Good idea? Bad idea? |
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I'm not sure anyone reads this anymore, and for good reason. I've only posted once before and it was a mediocre worthless post. Therefore, this might be a good place to store some ramblings. I've lost someone I care about deeply. The woman I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. And it's for the worst reason of all... that I'm just not right for her. And she's correct about that. I'm not sure that The two of us would ever be able to be completely happy together. She's a wonderful wonderful girl and I've spent the last two nights awake, staring at my wooden ceiling and wondering if life is worth going on without her. If there is something more or something at least equal waiting somewhere else. I still don't know. I guess another sleepless night is around the bend. She matched so many things I desired in a partner. And yet, lacked so many as well. She's not perfect, but she is amazing. I love her still, but I'm not sure I'm capable of giving her what she needs. What she deserves. I want to marry her, I want to plan a life with her, but what can I offer? I'm an abnormal person, and she's looking for a life of stability and normalcy. A house, a church, four kids, two dogs, two cars, and a single income. There are many moments when I think that's what I want, but as soon as I settle into that mindset, something starts itching me. Starts kicking at my temple, and I realize that's not who I am. It's a constant struggle between the life I see others having and the life I know I need. My brother has a steady job, a little house, a big dog, and a stable life. At least at present. He doesn't have constant money flucuations, he has hobbies and fun that happen after his job. It seems like my life is either all or nothing. All I am doing is working or all I am doing is nothing. How do I find that balance? How do I know whether I need to fly to Florida tomorrow with a ring and find Katherine and tell her how much I truly love her and how I want to marry her and be the man she wants me to be. But can I be that man forever? Or will I have a slow burn of resentment that I am not who I feel I should be? She fights with her parents about me, that I do love her. I fight with everyone that she loves me, and that we should be together. That our love was not doomed. Maybe that was something I should have listened to. When I was with Tiffany, I was, ironically, the sort of person Katherine wants now. I did her laundry, I cooked her food, I cleaned her house for her, all because I thought it would make her love me. I helped her with her papers and made study guides for her tests. I brought her flowers almost every single day. When she had to go to California for the summer, I threw everything to the wind and followed her there. When she came back to Tacoma, I threw everything to the surf, and followed her back. I did everything for her. In the end, I realized that I started trying to control her and make her into what I wanted her to be, no longer loving her for who she was. In truth, I barely had a life outside my relationship with her. I was, for lack of a better word, obsessed, and all I wanted to do was anything that would make her pay attention to me and show me affection. I know I am capable of being consumed by love and many times over the three months i've been apart from Kat, I've tried to figure out grandiose plans of moving to Florida and sweeping her off her feet. I've been holding myself back because I saw what happened to me with Tiffany, and I saw that it presents a difficult life. To live for someone else can be traumatic. I was going to head to Florida in the second week of May and propose to her. And now, I have to wonder, is that something that would make her happy? Would it make a difference in our lives for the better? What kind of future can I offer her? Can I be the person she needs, she wants, she deserves? Is that what is best for me? Is that what is best for her? I am a flawed person. I can be selfish and self-absorbed. I have projects and dreams I yearn for, and often I spend too much time lost in thought about what it would be like once those dreams have come true, and not enough time thinking about what I need to do to make those dreams come true. I need to spend more time willing to make sacrifices, and doing what might make me uncomfortable. Many times, I'm more willing to go without food than eat in a restauraunt alone. It's crazy. I'm crazy. I complain too much. I want people to be amazed that I have struggled through somehow. That I am John Wayne, and it's a miracle I did what I did. It's stupid, and I need to stop. But I'm a good person too. I try to help people when I can. I smile, I make jokes and try and keep spirits up. I take people out to dinner and buy rounds of beer even when I don't drink. I park way far away from entraces because I know I can walk. I spend hours upon hours trying to create an elfish experience for little girls at Christmas time. I spent all my money making phone calls from Europe. I'm loyal, to a fault. And I have dreams. I just get absorbed sometimes. Sometimes I need a swift kick in the pants to remember to look around me and realize there are other people. It's not something I do on purpose. I just need to remember that other people have needs and desires. Have dreams and wants. Weaknesses and missing socks. It's time that I try expecting nothing and giving everything, and hoping it balances out in the end. I'm sure most of this is just drivel. But it has helped me think. I know I love Katherine. I do. More than any other girl. But, as I told her, perhaps this is a moment where I have been too practical, and have not infused enough excitement and adventure into my life. There is a certain glory to giving oneself over to love. It's a disconnect from reality, and, in a sense, forgives the most insane of plans and ideals. |
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This is the treatment I wrote for a movie I'm calling "Pretzel" Okay, so this is how we roll: Phillip Driver is our protagonist, a disenfranchised recent college graduate forced to return home to his small hometown in rural Texas, live with his parents, and accept a job stocking groceries at the local Tom Thumb. Across the street from the Drivers is a new man in the neighborhood, a class 3 sexual offender, Daniel Johnson, a erstwhile graphic designer. That’s the set up. A winter night, cold and mostly rainy, finds Phil heading home from work, smoking a surreptitious cigarette. He watches a police cruiser move down the street, all lights off, but goes inside. A few minutes later, the police stage a loud raid on the Johnson house, arresting Johnson. Phil is watching from the window, but gets yelled at by his parents, who are, strangely, awake, and seemingly expecting the raid/arrest. Phil acquiesces by heading out the back door, and following the squad car to the station on his bike. He doesn’t own a car. At the station, Phil talks to one of the arresting officers, Miles Coom, who is outside sipping a cup of coffee and wiping down the backseat of the cruiser. The small town nature of Double Oak means Coom recognizes Driver, and they chat about the events of the evening, then Driver heads around the back of the station, and has a quick chat with the aforementioned Mr. Johnson about the details of the evening. Johnson allays the theory of his innocence and the conspiracy against him. Driver, eager to throw a monkey wrench in the process promises help, and in return, Johnson tells Driver about the spare key and necessity of removing the computer inside the Johnson house to outside the Johnson house. As Driver walks away mulling over the requested task, he begins to worry about the notion Johnson might be guilty and removing the computer from the house might be the worst thing he could do. He makes a phone call to his friend Jenny, a New York resident and former college buddy/girlfriend, and they discuss the problem. Driver is convinced to remain an outside observer until he gets home and observes a red glow coming from Johnson’s house (obviously the glow comes from a flashlight and someone snooping/planning evidence inside). Driver takes up residence on his roof in a sleeping bag, hoping to see the individual planting the evidence, though, it is not long before he falls asleep. As dawn rears it’s ugly house, a shutting door wakes Driver up, and he rolls off the roof into a nest of bushes. It’s still hella early, sun barely creeping above the horizon, so Driver makes an exploratory foray into the Johnson house, and finds the place trashed. Driver picks up a little, trying to hide anything that might be damaging, and also takes a laptop computer from the office to his house. Johnson’s bail is denied the following morning. Driver searches through Johnson’s computer, and finds illicit kiddie pictures, girls he recognizes from around the town. While doing this, he notices the police looking through the house across the street. There is a heated discussion on the front porch between a man in a suit and the chief of police, Tom Dewey. Driver follows the suited man to the richer section of town, the one right beyond the trailer park, and sees a meeting of sorts going on in a living room. Outside the house, to the side, there is a girl, Stacy Myers, trying to light a cigarette, without much luck. She’s a pompous high school student, homecoming queen runner up, and something of a favorite for the prom queen runner up spot. Driver, seizing the opportunity, proffers a light for her cigarette, and then proceeds to chat her up. They head inside, Myers leading badboy Driver into the house for some illicit doings, but Driver subtly ditches the chick with a clever ruse about bathrooms, and drops an eave on the convo happening in the formal living room. There are tidbits dropped about the problems encountered with the house and the lack of the evidence. The only firm bit of information Driver can get before he sees Myers looking for him is a name. TJ Thompson. Feigning a “thing”, Driver heads out to some phantom appointment, leaving a wanting Stacy Myers behind. He’s out to find Thompson. A look through the phone book at home lists four T. Thompsons, but no TJ. A few quick phone calls, and Driver finds that TJ lives in the trailer park. A stake out of TJ’s trailer yields the same suited man as at Johnson’s house and the meeting. There is an argument, unfortunately out of earshot of Driver, but one that ends up with a heated exchange between the two men. The suit is yelling about money, so TJ pushes the suit off the porch, and screams something about seeing what problems a big mouth brings up. Driver, though tempted to follow the suit, waits to see what TJ does. TJ gets drunk, drives to the store, and gets more beer. Driver has to avoid the store because he calls in sick for work. Back in the trailer park, TJ proceeds to get completely snookered on cheap beer and passes out. Hiding in the bushes across the way, our hero falls asleep, only to be awakened by the sound of a propane tank exploding, and a trailer burning to the ground. The Volunteer fire department is rather slow to respond, and there are mainly ashes left when water is finally applied to the fire. TJ has been burned to a crisp. Aghast, the neighbors talk quietly amongst themselves and somewhat to Driver about the shadowy figures they saw creeping about the place right before the fire. However, no one talks to the police because the police do not deign to show themselves at the scene. Nervous, Driver calls Jenny as he heads home, and she admonishes him for getting in the middle of a clearly dangerous situation. He expresses his fear to her, and wants to make sure someone outside the town knows something strange is going on. She hangs up on him because she doesn’t want any involvement, afraid the conspiracy will hunt her down. The next day, Driver moseys back to the trailer park and tries to engage some of the residents in conversation, but can’t seem to get anyone to talk about the previous night’s events, that is, except for a little girl who talks about seeing a man in a suit creeping by her window. Her slightly older brother yells at the girl for talking about the man who “totally wasn’t there” the night before. Phillip Driver knows he needs to find the man in the suit, and the last place he saw the suit, that isn’t burnt to the ground, was the Myers residence. SO, Driver heads to the Myers residence and has a run-in with Stacy, who lets on that her parents are out, like always, at some special PTA meeting, where they’ve been like, all month, completely ignoring her. Stacy makes some sexual play for Driver, which Phil deftly ignores, knowing he needs to head to the meeting. The meeting is held in the basement, and while Phil can see a little of what is going on and hear a bit by crouching outside and looking through a small ground level window, he can’t identify all the participants. He knows, however, that the suit is not among those he can see. There are vague mentions of a plan, the need to escalate the plan, to take things to the next level. Some older woman asks when the parents return, when things have to be finished. “Two days.” Who’s watching the kids? “Holt, Jim Holt.” Phil runs home, overwhelmed, and wanting to check the phone book for a Jim Holt. His parents come home shortly after he does, and ask why he’s not at work. He lets on about his investigation into the Johnson affair. There is a heated argument between the parents and the son, and we also find out that Phil has a little sister by the name of Mary who asks why everyone is yelling, and Phil storms out in righteous fury. Upon which time, he runs into his pseudo friend Miles, the police officer. There is short conversation about the girl Miles is seeing, one Marie S. Brown, when a call comes over the radio to be on the look out for Phillip Driver. Miles closes his eyes, and mentions the need for Phil to run. Phil runs, in a panic, and hides in the backyard, and rather quickly, the inside of Johnson’s house. As night falls, Phil sneaks back into his house, and looks in his mother’s cell phone, and sees a phone call was placed to the police and to Nathan Myers, who is listed on the fridge phone tree as the head of the PTA. Also listed in the phone is one Holt. No first name. Phil copies the phone number down, and heads out into the night. Maybe he does something to the house first, to get back at his family in some fashion. Saran wrap on his mother’s toilet, something juvenile like that. From a payphone, he calls Holt, and gets Jim. Phil pretends he is calling from a mortgage brokering company, and actually cons Holt into giving some detailed personal information, including Holt’s address. Heading over to Holt’s address, Phil does some snooping while Holt is sleeping, including looking at Holt and realizing Holt is the Suit, and finds a pair of blonde haired girls locked and gagged in the basement. Then he calls the FBI or some other outside agency, perhaps the Texas Rangers, and the whole thing is wrapped up, as the girls testify it was Holt who kidnapped them and took the pictures, and not Johnson while Holt rolls over on the PTA and all that. So, the ending is a little rushed, and it would behoove the movie to have a plot twist or two, or a subplot. Right now everything is a little linear for my taste, but the basics are there. Thoughts? |
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This is the treatment/step outline for a movie I am thinking of writing. Thoughts on ( Memoirs ) |
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So this is the treatment I wrote for the next screenplay I'm thinking about writing, ( Pretzel ) |
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Reluctantly, I hang up my hat in the singles dance hall again. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I'm sure it was my fault. I hate it when you still love the person who broke up with you. It's so much easier when you hate them. Of course, the hardest part of this situation is knowing that she still loves me, and that the world conspired against us. Her mother conspired against us mainly, and that hurts most. Then, there's the problem that everything might just be a break, and not a break up. Letting time heal wounds and all. But part of me thinks that's just worse. I guess it hurts any way you look at it. In any case, it's back to being a broken man... Whee. |
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For people in the know, I have left Florida, and now, tail between my legs, head back to Seattle to try and form a life. My girlfriend and I are still together, though to say the relationship is strained is putting it lightly. I miss her terribly, and have an overwhelming sense of fear and regret heading into this new year. I'll be back in Seattle on the thirty first, and then, who knows. Keeping on keeping on.
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Verily the world is a strange place. Orlando is a blowhard of a city, and a place I hope to never live again, though, in a sense, I guess it is a good experience to live here now so I know to avoid it in the future. Things are hard here as I look to start a shitty minimum wage job. I guess that is part of the life of an artists. I've committed myself to writing more and writing better, but we'll see if that is something I will be able to keep up with. In addition, I'm looking at starting work as a mortgage broker, but those of you who know my fear of the phone will probably think this is a foolish and pointless endeavor, but perhaps it will be just the ticket off the train of my phobia. In other news, life is okay. It's not amazing, it's not shitty, it's okay. I'd like it to be better, and I work in that direction, but it is what it is. My novel is progressing nicely, I'm about one hundred pages into the rewrite, two hundred and fifty to go. One of my graduate school applications is off, so that means four are left. The next deadline is the thirty first of December, and they are looking for a ten page writing sample. This baffles me. Ten pages to convey my skill as a storyteller in the visual medium of stage or screen. How much can you do in ten pages? I guess that's part of the challenge, though I feel there is too much of a reliance on the abilites of the short writer... but now is not a time to get involved in that particular belief. Play well out there kiddos. |
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Hello friends, I am now in Florida. It is sunny and the air conditioning is on. My phone number is the same if you need to call, and email is the same, but I have no idea what my address is. Much love out there, more on my life laters. peace and love |
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You are The EmperorStability, power, protection, realization; a great person. The Emperor is the great authority figure of the Tarot, so it represents fathers, father-figures and employers. There is a lot of aggression and violence too. The Emperor naturally follows the Empress. Like an infant, he is filled with enthuiasm, energy, aggression. He is direct, guileless and all too often irresistible. Unfortunately, like a baby he can also be a tyrant. Impatient, demanding, controlling. In the best of circumstances, he signifies the leader that everyone wants to follow, sitting on a throne that indicates the solid foundation of an Empire he created, loves and rules with intelligence and enthusiasm. But that throne can also be a trap, a responsibility that has the Emperor feeling restless, bored and discontent. What Tarot Card are You? Take the Test to Find Out. |
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My mom gave me a long lecture this morning about how the whole family thinks I have the most gifts, and am the most talented, and has the ability to go really really far in life. Therefore, I have also been the biggest disappointment to them... Uh... yeah. Great. |
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I have a writing journal for this stuff usually, but I think there isn't much need for two journals for me. Not enough people read either one of them to justify the existence of both. In that regard, there are two posts this evening, contained within this one. First, I have been working at the International Ballet's production of Dracula. Which, although perhaps sounding impressive, is really just a school production with a couple of guest artists. Granted, the main male dancer (playing the part of Harker) is a pretty heavy hitter with some impressive stats on his byline, but, for the most part, the rest of the dancers range in age from 12 to 16 with a few gusts up to 18. They are all Very Serious dancers. At least everyone but the principal. He's a nice guy who helps out everywhere when he can. I acknowledge the rest of the dancers are young and almost stereotypically high school girls capable of little thought other than their own catty little lives (yes, I'm going to get a few notes on that, I don't really believe all girls are like that, I'm just trying to spice up this post a tad), but these girls are absolutely convinced they will be professional dancers. I don't know too much about the professional dance world, but I'm pretty sure it's not significantly different than the theatrical world, and I'm pretty sure living in Seattle and attending the International Ballet School does not guarantee admission into the world of professional ballet. I'm pretty sure that's a pretty big gamble. Now, I'm all for going for your dreams with gusto, I think that's great. I don't really fault the girls for this logic. What's difficult to accept is their take on scholastic endeavors. These girls dance for six hours a day, from noon to six. They skip out on half a day of school, and, from what I understand, there is not much the school district cares to do about it. They just sort of schedule the Absolutely required classes for these girls (and three boys) in the morning, but they don't take a lot of normal stuff. Like Math? Nope. Like English? Yeah, they do that. But only a year of science, a year of math (up through Algebra) and then it's basically just English and History, go dance. Great, if you're going to be a dancer, but what if that doesn't work out? The girl who's hips chronically hurt, perhaps you should think about scaling the dancing down a bit in order to, I don't know, rest and learn a little something. They're pretty universally stupid. They don't know anything about the actual Dracula legend or basic geography. So if my fault isn't really with the girls, who is it with? The parents. Has education become so devalued in this culture? We talk about leaving no child behind, but it just seems we're raising a generation of morons. These parents must see the reality of the professional dance world, and yet, they still lead their children out into the wilderness telling them good luck and leaving them without any of the actual preparation necessary to tackle the new frontiers they will surely encounter. SO, I guess what I'm asking the readers out there, Do smarts have value any longer? In contemporary society, is it okay to be smart? I remember when I went to public school in Texas, you had to work hard to hide smarts. The Smart kids just got the shit kicked out of them. I mean, it was Texas, but is that still the case? I just don't understand it… And, on the other side of things, here's the new play I'm thinking of working on. I'd really like Trystan to give me feedback on whether or not this sounds like something worth pursuing. ( The Gift Giver ) |
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i wrote a long diatribe about the overly serious dancers i am working with, but i lost it. This is a place holder for when i return home. Bool. |
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Hello Friends, I've decided to snowbird it this winter, and head to the sunny shores of Florida. I'll be leaving the gloomy northwest in the early portion of November (like the sixth) and heading down to Oregon for a spell, then off to Orlando. I'll kick it Orange-State style until May when I return, hopefully triumphant, to see The Spinning, and rock the shit out of the theatre world. Much love, the transient |
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First, I found this ad while surfing the web. Lindsay Lohan Accessories & parts at Accstation Lindsay Lohan Sale eBayStores.com/Accstation What does it mean? You can buy parts of Lindsay Lohan, or just like replacement parts for your own Lindsay Lohan? On a second note, I'm torn about where to live and how to live. I have been offered a rent free place to live in Orlando Florida. So, my question to my loyal readers, all two of you, do I partake of this free rent to write books/plays/pay off debt, or do I slog it out in Seattle, and write/perform plays and movies? |
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The fates have it out for me. Fucking bitches. I hate them. I want to meet them in the afterlife, and bitch slap them over and over again, then shove those goddamn scissors in their blind eyesockets. Bitches. |
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Hey guys, Back in seattle and looking for work/money. In particular, hoping Phil can hook me up. |
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