Tuesday, August 19, 2008 My doggie dog world POST A COMMENT I was reminded that I could (and should) use this space to talk more about my own life... 'Yawn. I know, I feel your pain. I know so many Chatty-Kathy-motor-mouth-types that just scream: 'me, me, me...'in my head, I'm writing here about topics that actually touch me. So, there might be a greater worldly court of opinion I'm appealing to -- (or not). That's not really for me to decide. 'Anyhoo, can't get these Chatty-Kathy's to stop talking about themselves -- ('most of the time it ain't that interesting). Hence, the hesitation to use this space as only a me-me-me-and-more-me-soapbox (I'll drop in parts of me here and there when something is really bugging me): Here's such a humble snap shot of my world; 'and I gotta say it, this past week has been a doggie filled world... I live in the downtown arts district (N.J.), in a converted loft that's smack in the center of two universities, 'got a huge-ass stadium a few blocks away, City Hall's about six blocks away...'and mostly municipal offices make up my stomping grounds... 'call me the ultimate city dweller. It works, if you can get pass all the traffic sounds; I do, with the help of those electronic wall-of-sound machines when I sleep at night. My summer was going fine, until the doody started to pile up. It was the hot-topic with my roommate...'went something like: Roommate: "Did you see that big pile of Doody, near the tree?" Henry: "How could you miss that mountain? I did a Miss Bucket move (pronounced Boo-kay), so everyone could see me." I performed my re-enactment of me cleaning up our two dogs-daily-doo-doo, using really wide gestures so Granny would see me from three blocks away -- (like in that BBC show 'Keeping up Appearances'). The recent pile-ups are mostly from the new tenants that aren't a bit worried about their dogs carbon do-do prints. 'Why am I the only one cleaning up after my dog? -- I quietly fumed. 'til I woke up one day last week with a brainstorm: one man can make a difference, says I. After a trip to Kinkos I went out at night commando style to wall paper my polite "Please Clean after your Dog" signs ('even has a cool picture to drive that point home). I can't say for sure, but I do think it's made a difference. Speaking of topics that touch me, I wrote here that I just wrapped a screenwriting workshop -- I might look to join a writing group this fall -- or take yet another writing course. Here in this clip, screenwriter Billy Ray talks about that same need to be personally touched. He offers this advice: 'a very simple litmus test about what you should be writing, and what you shouldn't be writing is never, ever write a movie that you yourself would not pay to see. Labels: After Party Babies, feature screeplay, Free Writing Fiction, screenwriting, screenwriting group posted by Henry Cruz at 3:14 AM Sunday, September 23, 2007 it's not forever... POST A COMMENT The lady in red sat back on the hard subway seat; two men -- separately unware of each other -- watched her from across the car. The first man thought about last nights reality television show and the lady in red was like shading for his thoughts, she could fit right in as the girl that most likely to make it to next weeks episode. The other guy was mentally dissecting a night of passion, where a slow motion mind trick played out the removal of the red garment. His naughty thoughts linger on what could be done with the red garment (and then some). This was not unusual for her, she was not unaware of the attention of men, but some days it did go un noticed...or she was immune to the looks -- like a brick wall around a sheltered flower that needed no sunlight to grow. "Beauty is not forever," her mother had told her. "Enjoy it." -- and on night's out she did enjoy it. But, the echo of truth and time (the double T's) are what kept her from thinking this was forever. (* Image: Credit) Labels: Free Writing Fiction posted by Henry Cruz at 3:14 PM Monday, September 10, 2007 The EX...Nightmare(s)... POST A COMMENT 'might be listening to too many sad songs when I write at night...humming: "cradle your head in your hand...just breath..." 'remembering another dream from today: ('don't usually remember much after waking up)...in this one, it was 'bout my ex (my first love). usually, in a nightmare scenario the ex is doing great (or way better off without you)...in this scenario, things were strangely the same)...like a flashback...we were talking like we might get something going (again); and hey, can't hurt that we sat near a bed, (I think), -- looking inviting in the right light. 'we spoke about the good 'ol times...and it felt like the best parts from yesterday could be repeated (but that could a heavy idealistic glimmer of hope)...since we fought all the time. Labels: Free Writing Fiction posted by Henry Cruz at 8:21 PM Tuesday, August 21, 2007 Not Lookin' POST A COMMENT 'Stand up and adjust the jeans. "Did your iron break?" She wonders looking at him. He thinks she's giving him that special look; she's actually offering a wardrobe evaluation. It's something she does, make a mental note of what to avoid. She's thinking that might make the list, but it's retro at the same time. Maybe a 70's moment. He arches his butt and looks straight ahead. Offering his buttocks as a sample of whats on the menu. Labels: Free Writing Fiction posted by Henry Cruz at 7:06 AM     ARCHIVES October 2005 . November 2005 . December 2005 . August 2007 . September 2007 . October 2007 . November 2007 . December 2007 . March 2008 . April 2008 . May 2008 . June 2008 . July 2008 . 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