The Bloody Doors Off

Mamaaa,
Just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger,
Now he’s dead
Mamaaa, life had just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Mama, oooh,
Didn’t mean to make you cry,
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

queen, bohemian rhapsody

I wanted to like that movie. Malek was an inspired choice.

The story left me cold.

Not like Rocketman. That was a great film.

Why am I talking about biiopic movies?

Like anyone’s gonna adapt my life to the screen, large or small.

But I’d be happy if they took my words.

I’ve been in two small festivals this year, gearing up for a third, and was just accepted for a fourth.

And I’ve just applied for another, uh, internship of sorts, to run through July.

I hope I’m not stretching myself too thin.

‘Cuz I’ve gotta get even more serious about making money.

Ugh. This post sucks. I should just delete it.

But I don’t wanna be censoring myself. This is a dumping ground for my thoughts. This is my blog.

It means I’m writing.

Okay, maybe not plays. (Gods, I miss writing plays of any length.) I don’t know why this barely-noticed streams-of-consciousness-blog became so damned important to me.

Instead of finding inspiration for a 10-30 page story, I’m digging about for … What am I searching for?

There’s a purpose to all of this.

Someone’s (or something’s) pulling my strings. A Geppetto to my Pinocchio.

Dammit. I’ve felt this before. Whenever a short play started brewing, I’d find inspiration in music. I haven’t been No, I have been listening to music. Just very particular tracks. That tell their own story.

Back in the late 1990s I had a pen pal from Australia. We met, or rather, she found me, on a Canadian improv group’s website message board. Melissa (aka Mid (her nickname) aka Emma (my nickname for her; long story)) saw a comment I’d left and wrote to me. Asked if I was a fan of the group, who’d recently played in the Australian Fringe.

We were pen pals for years, until one day, we just drifted.

My point is. I originally had the idea of writing a play based on those conversations. I knew how it started (“Hello?”), and how it ended (“Geek.”). And because I didn’t back them up off of the office server (yes, I used my office email account in the beginning), they were wiped clean when I got laid off.

Maybe there’s a story in this blog. Something waiting to be written.

That alone is reason to keep plowing forward.

First rule. Don’t censor.

Second rule. Remember, this is for me. I may have a (albeit tiny) audience, but this is for me.

Third rule. Don’t turn away in fear of tarnishing your reputation. Everyone has dents in their armour.