Why?

The reason for this blog is to keep track of my ideas I have in the shower, since my dry erase board fell and all the markings were washed away in the tub.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Friday, December 19, 2008

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Lightning flashes

I know what is going to happen to George Rain.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

I met this weird man once. I don't think he was the kind of weird that collected human heads and put them in his freezer, no, he was probably the stamp collector type. I don't remember what he said his name was, but I do remember his story about his most priced invention. He raved about how he got a federal grant to develop his product and it only took him 3 percent of the money to finish the project. He thought it would reinvent the cologne industry.

It just smelled like peanut butter to me.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

A Homeless Plea

I know you can see me here today,
I hope I will still be here tomorrow.
If I had a front door, I would invite you in
and I would offer you anything I could.
We would sit and talk enjoying the warmth
of each other's company and the heated room.
See me for what I am,
Poor and hungry,
Bedless and Freezing.
Why don't you see me?! Are you ashamed,
or afraid to see outside your sheltered lives?
A couple quarters means nothing to you after
you bought those two hundred dollar shoes.
Please, just a couple more dollars
and I get to eat today. Just a couple
more dollars and the pain goes
away. Just a couple more
dollars and I can
live to see another
beautiful day.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Privatized Ambulance Services

Names, in chronological order:

City Ambulance Service.
Superior Ambulance Service.
The Best Ambulance Service.
Better than the Best Ambulance Service.
Above the Rest, Even the Best Ambulance Service.
Superior to even the those above the rest Ambulance Service.
Government Run Ambulance Service.

Friday, November 30, 2007

My dreams are cinematic.

(I just awoke from this following dream)

This man works for a drug company, he is more of a lab tech, not very high up in the scheme of things. The owner of the company calls him into his office to tell him he is going to join a top secret project he has been working on. The owner tells him that he must be swore to secrecy and that if he accepted he would one of the most important men in history. The man is confused, why would they select him over some of the other scientist that work for the drug company. The owner said that they did not share his dream and that he felt as though the lab tech would truly understand what he was trying to do. Hesitant the lab tech asked what the project was, but the owner only asked him if he would join again. The lab tech agreed.


There were two other men working on the project with the owner. Both were the most brilliant scientist the lab tech had every met. The scientists call the lab tech "8". Eight was confused, but they informed him that he was the eighth member of the project, so they it only made sense. Eight began asking the other scientist ago the owner. they knew very little about him and told 8 it would be better if he did as well.

Eight's work was little less than testing samples and collecting data. Very little had changed outside of the size of his paycheck, the size and location of the lab he worked in and the occasional nose bleed from the dry air. The owner would come by to see how things were going three times a day, once at 9 a.m., once at 12 p.m. and finally at 4:30 p.m. Eight rarely saw the other two scientists, only when they needed him to run a test or collect the data.

During one of his tests he was to calculate cell replication, so that is what he did. Upon collecting the data the two other scientists probed 8. They were shocked by his discovery, they made him retest the samples 5 times to make sure it yielded the same results. Since 8 did not know the initial cell count of the samples he received, he could not imagine the fantastic nature of the results, but this made him curious.

It seemed that the other two scientists would always come and go from a door that was located within his newly acquired lab. This door was not the primary entry to the lab from the hall. The door was locked.

Eight asked the owner about the results during a 12 p.m. visit. The owner was hesitant, seemly debating in his head what, or how much, he wanted to tell 8. The owner called in the other two scientists. They decided they would tell 8 what he was working on.

The three showed eight into the next room, the previously locked room, but before entering the owner made 8 remember the vow of secrecy he had taken. The room 8 entered was no so dissimilar to the one they had just left, with the exception of the population of lab rats. Eight was less than shocked.

The owner described his vision of future, without disease and war, a Utopian vision.

(Long story short, sorry to ruin the ending, but I am running out of time before I must work)

It turns out that the owner was actually producing chemical weapons AND he was working on cloning humans that would be immune to these weapons, along with diseases that commonly kill humans today. Upon finding out about this eight was also told that he was one of the clones that the owner was experimenting on. During the time in his lab they would fill the room with the chemical weapons that they had been working on. He was actually the eighth clone they had produced for this purpose and all was looking well that he would be the perfect model.

(this isn't quite the way it happened in the dream. there was more of a power struggle between the scientist over the cloning. one of the scientists took the main character under his wing and showed him that he was actually able to clone people-though he was only cloning himself and the other scientists, while they were still trying to clone monkeys. one day he came to find the scientist turned his back on him and all three were locking him out of meetings. this is when he stumbled on the fact that there were multiple copies of the scientists, but the personalities were flipped around.)

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Friday, November 9, 2007

Today's writing

(An early 20’s man sits on a bench smoking a cigarette, with a briefcase on his lap, waiting for the bus. He sits quietly, looking towards the concrete sidewalk. His wardrobe suggests a young professional, but it is not clear what his profession would be.)

Narrator: “I grew up. I think that is how this happened.”

He glances to a man on his cell phone walking and talking about a business deal that will most likely make him his 100th million.

Narrator: “I awake everyday to find the same news on the radio and the same empty fridge slowly starving me to death. I think back to my childhood and see only clear blue skies and bright sunny days. Today, it’s still the same sky and the same sun, but if seems a lot different to me now. The sun is no longer an indication of the amount of play time left, now it is an indication of how long I have before I have to go to bed, then wake up to do it all over again.”

The bus arrives. The camera shows the opposite side of the bus from the one in which the passengers board. In the usual, loud fashion of a bus, it drives off, just to make another stop, but still on the bench is the man.

He man sits with a bit of a smirk on his face, like a teenager who is skipping school and enjoys the rush of doing something bad.

Narrator: “Life was simple then.”

The man opens his mouth and whispers: “Life was simple then.”

He glanced over to see the bus stuck in traffic, not thirty feet from the bench. If he walked quickly, he could easily make it to the bus and to work on time. He stands with briefcase in hand and drops the cigarette to the ground. The man reads the public service announcement on the back of the bus about the increase in the poverty rate. Placing the briefcase on the bench, he walks the opposite direction of the bus.

A moment of fear of what his actions could mean. He hesitates, thinks briefly about going back to get his case and to grab a taxi.

“It’s not worth it.”

Narrator: “Hopefully someone will make a better use of that leather briefcase than I did. I can only hope my boss somehow finds it and sees how many office supplies I have stolen (the narrator laughs). Why did I need to steal thousands of paperclips? It’s not like I had a grand sculptural piece in mind for them.”

He had realized none of this mattered. Yesterday, he realized none of this mattered.

When an event that calls your mortality into question happens, you begin to look different, you begin to see things differently. Such an event happened yesterday for this man.