Early Morning Dynamite

Nothing better than waking up to Stone Temple Pilots' CORE. I just checked in on my buddy Michaels blog: Bad News From Outer Space.com and it made me realize that I hadn't posted shit in a very long time. My Bad! I don't necessarily have to write anything perfect, this is The Writer's Block, afterall- and just the internal ramblings of a disgruntled writer. I'd like to incorporate some images along the way...once I figure it out. why have computers become so unintuitive?- or maybe, just maybe it's just me? It's possible! .... Okay so there's my first ever image for you masses. I'm sure you'll forgive my random placement until I figure this whole thing out. --- So, last night I stayed up and made about 4 new postcards... I would post THEM, but my scanner doesn't seem to want to import the images into photoshop at the moment.

I'll get better at this, the first pages are generally like the first pancakes of the batch. But at least I'm back on the saddle again. Thanks again Mike, Bill and Rob for the inspiration.

Nocturna: The Midnight Man
(A GRAFFIC NOVEL)


It’s not easy to be creative when you are alone and shy. So I sit here for a while and listen to The Sounds that the new DJ is spinning. It’s fresh and clean and productive and new. I don’t want to be here, I don’t think. Beautiful creative types filter through the bar and I wait for Kevin to show up with the girls.

If she was invisible, I imagine Julie would be here, dancing on the stage. The stage is clear and I just sit there on the couch. Wine drinkers in black dresses stroll by with nary a glance. A Colin Ferrell type came through the door with a Katy Perry type in a satin shirt. Kids with hoods bounce around and get kisses. A lot of the kids here are tattooed. Does that make such a difference? I’m not tattooed myself but the thought crosses my mind, often.

A Greaser and his Betty Paige friends bop by. I am open to invitation but still, only a few smiles. Maybe that should count? Investment in my creative soul. Why then do I feel so bankrupt? I fear it’s the lake of My Hummingbird. I’m wearing the ring we picked out, but it ridiculously gets shifted to my thumb. Does it keep me safe or just hidden from sight? I’m not that cool. Not that cool.

With video camera setting on the table in the off position, I rest my hand on my head, it’s my thoughtful director’s pose. Taking in my surroundings with my flesh-camera. But alas, my body is like a couch potato. Is this really who I am? I’m not in agreement with this, it’s weak. It’s soft. She takes a swig of… what is that? Gin? I’m not in the Nether Lounge am I?

The guy at the door declines one of those Full Throttle beverages from this cute, slim, model girl. She shrugs and goes on dancing, ripped holes in the knees of her stylish jeans. I feel like just a wannabe in my sport coat and T.

My phone’s gone missing and I’m being forced to communicate in other ways now, I guess. It’s been so long.

A girl walks in with a Chihuahua under her arm and it makes me grin at her sense of fashion. If that’s even a word. Well, it is now. It’s an art show after all. It’s all art, isn’t it? Well, it is now. And I’m a consumer of said art, witnessed by the small photograph I purchased from one of the many photographers in the show. Five bucks. It’s a black and white sultry semi-nude. Maybe that’s all I’ll get.

The lyrics desperately spill “Just a little more love, just a little more peace is all it takes to live in harmony” from the speakers. The young, hip, European D.J. has been doing a stellar job. Just stellar.

Hey! I just got to pet the Chihuahua! That’s got to be some kind of good luck. His name, if I caught it right is Ben. I’ve always found it interesting when people name their dogs after human names. So cool. “He’s very shy” quips the dog’s owner as I pat his head, probably a little more heavy-handed that he’s used to. He’s just a little Chihuahua after all. “Yeah, just like me” I answer making the best of my communicative efforts. Not much dialogue after that. What am I?

Robert Downey Jr. at age 50 goes by, tattooed and covered in the soot of a thousand cigarettes. But he’s got friends there. Everyone seems to know everyone, they knuckle at the door. Jeff lives about a block away from this place and I can come and go with this stamp on my hand—
Whoa! Awesome black boots! You wouldn’t think so but, still eye-catching as all get-out! She caught my eye and made this amazing “he looked into the lens” grimace. So I try not to stare too much, but her fashion tonight is on-point! Even with the fur collar.

The thin girl by the door in the frilly off-white top is what Rob would call Model-Hot. Rebecca Gayheart when she was about 20. She’s the one with the rips in the jeans. That’s so 80’s isn’t it? Well, it’s due for a revival I suppose.

Yep, this must be what I call the Nether Lounge. The place between life and art show. And there’s that gal with the boots and the sweet bob hair cut again. A full cast in here. What I want to know is who’s giving the directions? I look up and check out the crystal chandeliers. Then an unburned candle on the table top. Kevin may not show.

Am I a piece of art or an artist? How do I show it? Is it time for me to go now? I’ve got some digital footage of the Artwork and some information from some of the artists. I think about going to get Chris.

There’s an amazing Audrey Hepburn print in the gallery, but it’s like eighty bucks. I think I talked to the artist of that piece about graffiti and how it’s mostly political. He was one of those dudes with the fat holes in his ears and lots of tattoos and grime. How can something so sweet come from something so tortured?

Who am I after all, an artist? A cinematographer? A writer? The spider- muse? Cinderella’s Pumpkin spawn? In the gallery I’m a tourist. In the lounge a couch potato. Outside I feel like the Midnight Man with nowhere left to go. I really need to work on that. A little out of order, but I’ve got the will to survive. There’s a media frenzy out there, acid rain from the fallout. Thank you for granting me shelter if only for a moment.


-2-

The aboriginal’s of Australia have something they call dreamtime. I’m supposing that fiction is kind of like that. But Harlan Ellison once gave me a fiction infection and now I’ve got these screenplays to write. To get it all out, you see. In the meantime, I’m being haunted by the “Technoratti”. Trying to learn my own Kung Fu in a post-apocalyptic, Warhol-funded parade of masks.

Mornin’ Rob!


So I had yet another cool Roger exclusive last night in my slumber:

We were on the set of an Alex Bulkley production. It was kind of a short experimental project. Sort of an alien/government abduction/experiment. One of Alex’s asian American actor friends gets pulled naked, ass-first into a lime-green room, gets punched in the face, electrocuted then shot full of L.S.D. and left to trip out in this small room filled with dynamic shadows and an eerie “altered states” soundtrack. The actor was totally down for the real abuse.
About a dozen or so filmmakers we’re on set, or rather just outside the 3-walled box, adding to and capturing the bizarre scene.It was like an off-the-cuff private get-together to make an avant garde film. Everyone was encouraged to light, film, document agree on certain props (like pinecones and leaves and vines on the walls) Alex and I had a long discussion about the sounds to use, with terminology like: “Yeah more powerful than silence, like taking a metal string and pulling it taught till it explodes” We agreed that no “music” should ever be used in film… cause it just dates it and pollutes the purity of the privacy of the scene. The scene was an exclusive event- no outsiders allowed sort of thing. I remember specifically hearing “No Pete Nelsons”. I remember getting Charles on the set and he was learning about lighting and adding some great shadowplay with a ripped up burlap sack.
At one point, Daryl came up to me and complimented my fashion sense. He said that was important. And here I thought I was just dressed normal. We started breaking down the fashion scene of the attending filmmakers. Then Daryl gave me these big, black rubber boots from his trunk. I said: all I need now is some Nazi-pants, no shirt, a pair of welders goggles and a necklace with a skull on the end. We both laughed and agreed that that would be the shiz.
I can only imagine what the finished product looked like, but watching the scenario play out, it was a total success, thanks to mister Bulkley’s ingenuinty. He said he always wanted to make an avant garde film like this in dreamtime because of the liquid state and no one could own the rights- it was a “pure” film. I can only imagine that Rick got all the footage and has edited it on some solitudinal plane of existence, high on the finest ganja for that extra added umph! And kudos to the actor who really got into his role, with a vengeance. He really presented us with some insight into the truest fears of humanity.


From the Nether Planes,




Roger

LIFE IS LIKE A MOTION PICTURE


Life is like a motion picture
on a great big screen.
And you are the director
directing all your scenes.
You write the script,
you cast it too.
And the leading role
The star of your film is—
YOU!

Life is like a motion picture,
a Technicolor dream,
and through your eyes the camera
is projecting scene on scene.
The plot unfolds both night and day.
Sometimes you’re lost,
then you find your way.

So follow your star.
The star you are
in the great big movie of your mind.

--Hime Ilili

LETTERS FROM LIMBO
“Pandora’s Juke Box”

Heart in my mouth, pulse in my head. Mercury rising into the red.

The smell of your skin can light up all the fires in me. Hungry to touch.

Eager to please. Opened my mind, now I’m down on my knees.

Every night I am I burning to make love to you. Oh, what am I dying for.

It’s an affair of the heart. Have a little blind faith it’s an affair of the heart.

When we make love it’s a passionate thing. After all I’ve seen.

You’ve got the power it amazes me still. Find the words to make me better.

I don’t have to look further than your eyes. All that I’m dying for.

And I want to touch you and seize you and make you mine….

It’s an affair of the heart. All that I’m running from. All that I’m dying for.

Pandora’s Box says I was up above it. I believe the dreams make a reason why..

Won’t you come see about me. I’ll be dancing alone. So I find myself.

Love’s strange. Working on the things that tear us apart.

Don’t you forget about me. All that I can’t ignore. All that I’m dying for.

Look my way, never love me. Rain keeps falling down, down, down.

Will you call my name or walk on by? The ghost of yesterday is gaining on me.

Don’t you try and pretend. We’ll win in the end. I am alive. Swallow your pride.

Going to take you apart. I’ll put us back together at heart with song’s of fireflies.

As you walk on by. As you walk on by. And you walk away…

Until the midnight sun. Wheels go round and round in my mind.

Restless hearts sleep alone tonight. If everyone loved and nobody lied.

I’m sending all my love along the wire. Right down the line it’s been you and me.

I’m forever yours, faithfully. And as we lie beneath the stars, you and I…

Circus life under the big world. Through space and time. Nobody died.

Wondering were I am lost without you. All of these feelings I’ve shared.

And being apart ain’t easy on this love affair. I’ve never lived before.

I get the joy of rediscovering you. I’m forever yours, faithfully.

Faithfully I’m still yours. Now that we’re here, it’s so far away.

Promise me just one more night. Then we’ll go our separate ways.

Every second, every moment we’ve got to make it last.

I won’t let go at any price. And I finally start to go away and face the day.

We’ll still be friends someday. I think I’m doing okay. Somebody shake me.

Don’t look back, I’ll be running the other way. So far away. All the mistakes.

Heaven knows what happens now. The person that I am today.

I won’t let go at any price. I need you now like I needed you then.

Someday. In my head. I know nothing of your kind. So sacrifice yourself.

I wanna get next to you. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you too.

I’m gonna learn you my philosophy. The fire in your eyes. Gotta fight to make it through.

I know you want what’s on my mind. I know you like what’s on my mind.

I know it eats you up inside. The fire in your eyes. You take the breath right out of me.

You shouldn’t have my wrong address. You left a hole where my heart should be.

Here I come, I come, I come. Cause I will be the death of you.

You wouldn’t want me to have to hurt you too. I know it eats you up inside.

Falling away from me. Falling away for me. Maybe I’ll wake up for once.

It’s going to be better tomorrow. Beating me down into the ground.

It’s spinning round and round. Nothing can be found. I’m going under.

Blue Monday moon. Soon afternoon Drowning in you. Falling forever.

How does it feel to treat me like you do. When you lay your hands upon me

And you tell me who you are. Tell me now how I should feel. I’ve got to break through.

Those who came before me. From the past until completion. Wondering why.

They tell me how I should feel today. I can’t trust myself anymore. Open up my mind.

I can and I shall obey. If it wasn’t for this misfortune I’d be a heavenly person today.

When your heart grows cold. How does it feel. I won’t be broken again.

Who are you going to trust. This much should make you hollow.

It’s the last seat on the bus. An American cliché’. You’re one of us.

Which one will you follow. Dying again. I’m falling forever. Going under.

Nobody’s real. And the more you dream the less you sleep. You live inside a dream.

You don’t really care about what’s right. Cause nobody’s real anymore.

I swear there’s no way out. Here’s my body to keep you alive. You’re so afraid.

Ultra lamps and horoscopes. Never gonna stop me. Never gonna stop.

Scream if you want it. Cause I want more. Your face, it looks so green.

Tonight I throw myself into the blue. You’re gonna say things you never meant to say.

So bad you wanted it to be. And I wonder about everything forever. In the end.

If anything will ever be this good again. It makes you better. Don’t fall too far away.

And anything I never liked about you is seeping into me. The lessons you taught me.

I used to have something inside. I used to be somebody. No more lies.

What I used to think was me is just a fading memory. Open up my mind.

I’ve been dreaming for so long to find the meaning, to understand. To try again.

What’s that sticking out of the side of my belly? A small reptilian tail? That’s odd. Very odd. I pull on it and hope it doesn’t break off, leaving the rest of the critter inside of me. Slowly, with all the oozing pus comes a four inch long lizard… still alive. I flush the sucker down the toilet and examine the wound for eggs. It’s clean. Thank God. I wonder how long that bastard was lodged in there? I wash out the wound with hydrogen peroxide. It bubbles and foams ferociously. That’s all the bacteria burning off. Pretty fucking gross. I had a lizard burrowing into my gut. …But why?

INDEPENDENT HORROR FILM

Being Shot in Colorado!!!

MAY 15th --- JUNE 15th

NEED

CAST:
Males, age 20 – 40
Females, age 20 – 40

Experience preferred but if you’ve got the talent and determination, please bring photo and resume if available to The Elbo Room at The Ritz downtown Wednesday April 22nd 1pm-5pm.*

ALSO SEEKING:

CREW:
Assistant Director
Associate Producer
Camera Assistant
Sound Recorder
Catering
Still Photographer
Production Assistants

*Spinning entertainment group (719) 440 8185