Scene 2 act 1

He's woken up by a harsh ray of sunshine. His eyes open. We pan out to see him sleeping on a busy city street's bus bench. He's down town. There's people passing him. In Both directions. He makes his way into a sitting position. He yawns.... pats his hands around. And when he can't find what he's looking for his eye widen and he begins to panic...


He imidietly reaches into his bag thats stashed under the bench... his eyes widen again as he gets a grip on his camera.

"You ain't much! but you're all I got" Right as he say's this he hears his stomach growling... he looks both way thinking of something to eat.

"You're all I got... we have to finish this project together. Before we're allowed to eat."

He takes out a cigarette and a prescription bottle full of pills.. The smile he had staring into the lens of his own camera is over come with the face of a desperate addict. he takes two pills before he stands up and starts his day...

Scene 1 act 1

It was something I needed to do... It was something I needed to do. I needed to do everything. This is so overwhelming.
You gotta start writing more. It'll help with the spelling.

Yeah...


The scene should start off with him walking home....
It's still night out, dawn in coming. He walks through the streets. He watches the cleaning cars clean the streets. Everything is dirty, he's dirty too.

He keeps walking, mean while he drinks a mickey of cheap bourbon.

"Pussy" The scream comes from behind the dumpster. It scares him, but in his drunken stupor he decides to take out his trusty old camera. An old lil relbel with a 50 mm on it. He sneaks behind the dumpster and snaps a photo.

It's dark... the image is blurry, but it's perfect. It's exacly what he needed to finish his work.
The subject an elderly lunatic looking for cans that can talk back to her continues her search without even noticing.
He keeps moving. The day is just beginning to break as he gets to his special place. The Sun is just starting to show his face in the horizon as he sets up the tripod ....

He takes the pictures of the sunrise...

"What'er you doing you bum?"  she asked him. The same woman from the dumpster.

"How's you find me?" he asks. He knows what she's going to say...

"Shut up you fuck face!"

They both just stand there in the sunset and stare. 

sex on a north sask beach ...

What the characters are thinking is easy. We're preset. It's fate. Imagine eating your favorite meal every time for the first time. Dream about having that all the time.

What are the characters thinking, it depends on the them of the story. The story has it's sweet spot. It's not a big deal .... at first. You need to entice the reader. Essentially you have to make them want to hear the story. Suspense, patients helps. ....

Wanna give someone something?  Give them a long drawn out blow job ....

So she let go and just watched ... like a single woman that's watched every law and order

Logic loves me... things that are meant to happen to me all the time. I'm not a failure, I'm a fuck up. There is a difference. Not many people understand that they are all fuck ups. We're not suppose to be here, we're a freak of nature... Why?
Well it started out as a sexual act between celestial entities.. They were young and hardy. Both potent and energetic. They fucked vigorously but they were using condoms. It was how it was done. Preventing any kind of biological exchange was  their way of avoiding the circumstances of life.

One night 15 billion years ago the contraceptive broke and all hell busted loose. The two were caught red handed by fate, fucking. This may have seemed a failure in hind sight but it wasn't. Fate knew they were destined to fuck up and that's why they weren't failures.
They had a baby. It's name was the universe. They stood along side it and watched it grow. They did everything in their power to protect it from failure. That of course caused more fuck ups... which were definite examples of fate playing her part. Failure was never an option until, until of course one of the two celestial entities decided to change. It wasn't that he no longer wanted to be there, it was that he could feel himself harden.
That was the only feeling he despised and he would have done anything to get rid of it. Fate offered him one way out and he took it. It was to fail his partner and leave their universe.
Now this was a failure and not a fuck up but not because of him.. it was because of fate. She knew about the way he was going to behave. It was all happening in her small lil universe in front of her. It was this microcosm of actions that she could relate too..
 She watched the tiny reflections of herself in the matter in front of her. She knew that she would never be recognized by the tiny bodies of material and chemical composites that were floating around in her universe. 

Logic is for the pope

There is so many ways to love. There isn't that many actually.. there is only one. When you love yourself you indulge in other.s.. when you love others they indulge in you. You love others by loving yourself and looking to yourself for the solutions to the problems in your life. If you look to others you'll avoid everything.

I fell in love with this woman a while back...I fell in love with her selfishly though. She was my soul mate.. but I wasn't destined to stay the way I was. Souls change. Peoples hearts don't. Heart is a much more reliable fabric in which one should invest their live. It's funny though because the heart is a vehicle for the soul. Most people don't let themselves take control of their heart. There needs to be more control over everything.. so most people just let there soul stay in their head.

There is many ways to love... but there is only one way to indulge the heart and that's to let it feel. The hear isn't numb. The soul can't feel. So it's scared of hurting it's self since it doesn't know when or if it's hurt, logically it assumes that it's wounded and shouldn't take any risks..
Heart and soul need to join or you're nothing but a fake.

couple shakes like that

Too much of a good thing can cripple you. Imagine not sleeping for a week... Imagine not eating either. Well maybe like a wink ... and a couple shakes or something.

Life was easier in the States, everything was less expensive. I didn't know what I was going back home, I just was. Things weren't going well for me living in Wisconsin. So I drove to Alabama.

The week before I left my life was a series of flops... busts. Well I guess if I look back correctly there was also spring break in Montreal.

"What happened to you in Montreal?" She asked me, she was fucking hot too. Long blonde hair. Taller then me, skinny. The two of us met before spring break, she was an American guest on the international student bus to Michigan. It was a ski trip the first I'd ever been on.

"Eww!! What's that?" She yelled, as I stepped into the hot tub. It was lint from my sock.. I had not rinsed myself off before I hurried to meet up with the girls in the tub. They were all so beautiful. I was only twenty two.
"So what happened in Montreal?"  she asked again. I looked at her with my eyes... I was emotionless and high. She knew that about me, she never cared because she was mess up too.

On her sixteenth birthday she decided to driver her new 4 Runner off the road. No big deal except for her eighteen you wasn't wearing a seat belt. Then found him up ahead a couple dozen meters in the ditch. He was never the same, she blamed herself but she never stopped drinking.

"I was high as fuck in Montreal!" I wasn't lying. I was so tweaking in Quebec I slept with my buddies Roommate, she was seventeen years  older than me.
"So" she was holding my chest when she said it, "what did you do?" I don't think she was expecting me to answer the way I did.

That was one of the first things I did. Losing her put me on the fast track to fucks ville, I was on a one way train. At least with her I went to school. After she broke up with me the only reason I went to school was to meet up with the dude that hustled at pizza hut. We were buddies, he had massive prescription for speed. We talked a lot to each other. He was also the go to dude for weed. His name was Dave and he was my first passenger on the way to get fucked.

cause I'm not taxi driving .. im in prison

Gotta let myself be myself... well there is more to it then that I guess. It's strange finding myself jealous of the people around that mean nothing to my life. My life is getting better, I'm becoming someone that can find out what's going on around him.. but that's mostly because I don't move round much.
That's new, I'm not as exposed to others as I used to be. I'm laying myself on a line.. I'm on the internet, this is the internet.

People can see this, and they do. I let them.

It's nudity for real. I'm naked and ranting that I am real.

The back seat's been empty.

And I did..

Dance floors are usually made of hard wood and good ones are luxurious and clean. My parents owned a dance floor and I can distinctly remember what happened when my father was installing the remnants of the studio dance floor into our living room. Cause the house was going hard wood style.

He wanted me to help him, but I was for sure too young. It was just me and him. I know I hated helping him because I could never do anything right. He was installing hard wood.. It's a process, he gave me a hammer.. It wasn't what I had wanted, I must have been eleven at the time dancing on the concert part of the floor. When I hit in the face with it.

I think I knocked him out. He got hurt, I knocked him in the head with a hammer. It was bleeding and everything. I'm not sure if it served him right, but it was bound to happen.
I remember him sitting on the step next to this pile of hard wood. He was looking at me, his eyes looked desperate. He wanted me to drive with him to the hospital. I was like "fuck that" but he made me anyway. We drove together. It was a unique bonding moment.
He was fine, the doctors put a stitch in it or something. The hospital is where I got my fill of children's literature.

He wanted me to help him and I hit him in the head with a hammer. That's what I did to my dad, he finished the floor alone. I can't recall ever going back to that. But I can remember a birthday party that I had once.
I really had to go to the bathroom....

Who's a freak...

There were those moments when I was a kid that I can still remember.
Having just got back from Europe to my mansion in saint Albert I can recall making thousands of phone calls... Well it felt like thousands. And since I was a kid during the time before caller ID I don't think my best friend and neighbor ever realized it.
The incessant  calling occurred while I waited for him to come back from his vacation. Everyone one in the crescent was on vacation, I just happened to have arrived a week earlier then the rest.
That was my luck. And I was the one phoning an empty house. I had more than one neighboring friend, but this guy was the coolest.
Funny how that works, he was two years younger than most of us but he was the coolest. He had the right stuff. His place was where the party was at. His house had the perfect parents, the sweetest sister and the hottest mom.
There were four of us in the crescent that hung out and it was cool. We were a solid group. Every one of us had a pretty solid life. Mine was the only immigrant family. We were never so solid as a family group. It's a shaky topic I guess.. Well that's what I thought.
Ends up... a few years down the line one of the kids in the hood got a brain tumor and died..
He was the type of fellow that always tried to connect with me. He had the perfect family.  I never could hold that communication shit together, while I was out in the world he used to send me letters that I never returned. I was a dink. I still am. Once a dink always a dink. I've realized that.
I've always wanted that lifestyle. To be that person whose house makes them the go to guy on the block. But that wasn't real either. That kid became an accountant. The third some sort of rig pig..
I'm not envious, they followed their fathers. I haven't done that in anyway outside of the fact that in the eyes of most people I'm pretty much a loser. I didn't get a brain tumor though. But my dad's a dink.
I had a kid... and now I guess I have a chance at giving him a perfect lil pad to brew his social life in. It's my job to do that.. I want a hot wife though,
Guess I'll have to get a couch.

So we eat ourselves

It's tough looking back and finding out why things weren't better for us as Bos'. We were a tough breed of folk but we're cannonballs. There were those moments when we stood up as a family and went to the movies.. that happened once. It was Jurassic Park, there was the water park too... once for sure.
It's easier in a smaller pack to remain stable. Not offend anyone enough to cause a problem. Everyone in my family was sensitive, we're a strange bunch of social animals. It was nice when we could all sit down and talk about how much we were collectively hating on a specific parent.. It was usually my dad who we blamed for everything. He loved playing the victim. He still does.
My father is the prime example of what not to become in life. He knows nothing about what matters in his life because he doesn't know what maters.
Love is all that matters and if a member of the family doesn't understand that blood is what keeps a breed around for generations there is a serious problem.
Immigration is something that's gotta be done in numbers.The families that are going to succeed are going to be able to nurture themselves. They're going to be about quantity over quality...
Everyone will do everything to live in the north American part of the world. We're in control of a bunch of resources. They fuel the economy and create sub divisions of class's of people...
I'm not going to be king. No one who needs to work the night shift will ever be king.
My family must inherently see that...