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Lunacy My Life Is Starting Over Again

So this is Vol. 3.

If you've been reading another thread then you'll know volumes 1 and 2. Think of it as having to read The Amazing Spider Man and The Spectacular Spider Man.

Forewarning - this post mostly does not include Sierra, so if you're hoping to read more about her, it's not going to happen in this post. For fuck's sake, everywhere we go, all anybody wants is to talk to her. Doesn't matter if she has dressed up that day as goth girl, or vamp girl, or emo girl, or nerd girl, or preppy girl, or I didn't realize my skirt was this short girl - everybody wants to talk to her and barely even notice I'm with her. Sigh.

I'm basically the dude that's with that chick.

"Is she actually dating him? He's so old."

Sigh.

By the way, Sierra, since I know you'll read this eventually - when we stopped at the wine bar and you were sitting with your friends and the bartender asked you three about doing "wine shots," yeah, that's not a thing. He was just seeing if you three would fall for it. That is why you're currently passed out on the bed mumbling something about France.



Vol. 3


So I was working at a laundromat. Mostly because it was merely a 5 minute drive from my home and it was on the edge of the university campus - let's just say there was plenty to look at. ::ahem::

This might be difficult to believe, but working at a laundromat is not a difficult job, and the pay reflects that fact. Even people who dropped off their shit-stained underpants and whatever else wouldn't expect much. I didn't fold that shit. I chucked it in a bag and called it a day. I watched some who worked there fold it immaculately and not get a dime for a tip. Fuck that. Toss that shit in a bag.

What surprised me most about the job was the condition of women's underwear - jesus fucking christ, women, what is going on down there??!!

They were horrendous. At least with men I knew what I was getting into, but the girly stuff .... gah. It completely ruined the allure of panties for me. The front, the back, just .... no. Please make it go away. I refused to fold or even look at those garments after a while.

Anyway, so I would be drunk off my ass and stoned on any given day because the owners were hyper Christians who believed that the Christian God needed to hear their prayers 24/7 - apparantly Christian God is like totally needy - and they would use that as an excuse to never leave the house unless absolutely necessary. So I was king of the shit castle.

There was a playlist of Christian Rock that was only to be played on the stereo. Yeah, fuck that shit. That went out the window on Day 1. Let's get some Grandaddy up in here!

So one day, I'm more drunk than usual and I had been hitting my GH most of the morning and in walks this punk kid. Fucking swagger to him. Obnoxiously confident. Really annoying.

He sees that I'm reading a collection of Alan Moore's The Swamp Thing. He asks about it, and we get to talking, and we become fast friends.

Every time he came in, it was comics, or movies, or music, or how annoying college kids are, etc.

He shows me his YouTube channel that is a bunch of short films about 3-4 minutes long and they are impressive. He tells me he wants to make a feature length film and asks me if I know anyone who has written something that would work as a "real" movie. I said no but I guess my face gave it away.

Eventually, he calls me one night and he and his friends are down at the local cocktail lounge playing drunk chess and he says I've got to swing by. And so I did. And el vino did flow.

He doesn't drink much. He just likes to watch drunk people act stupid.

So I got drunk even more off my ass and he and his friends drive me and my car home.

So he literally carries me into bed - it was that bad - and I guess he was about to leave but he saw my open closet. Which is stacks and stacks of writing projects.

He is a very organized and OCD person. So he starts reading and organizing.

I woke up a few hours later and see him at my desk reading. I slurred out "Uh, what are you doing?"

"I'm reading. You've got a movie here, dude."

I pass back out and don't wake up for about 12 more hours. When I woke back up, he was gone.

Every little bit of writing in my closet had been organized.

And he had left on my desk the screenplay he was interested in.

On top of that stack of paper, he had left a note which read, "Everyone is going to want to know more about Audrey. She's in everything you write."

He called me that evening to check in on me and make sure I was okay.

Once that was over with, he says, "I guess we should get to work. Tell me about Audrey."
 
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So ... Sierra has decided she's going to play the part of my ex-wife in this movie.

"Sweetie, you are way too young to play this part. It would never work."

"Then we'll use makeup. I know all the lines. You have met like a hundred different girls and they're all stupid and like porn content girls. I actually know this part. I know the lines and I know the part and I know the character. You won't let me play Audrey and I get that but I know the Alison character. I am not asking."

I guess that's the way it's going to be. Considering she is reading my screenplay while I watch, again, Zach Snyder's cut of Justice League.

:hmm:

Women ... when they put their foot down. If you have half a male brain you do not mess wish that shit.
 
So whatever this fucking volume is. I don't fucking know.

I have deciided to go back to my notes from 2004 and make the changes which are according to our current times.

Some of the writing ... yeah .... they didn't date so well.

Guess how much fun it is to dig through a closet full of old notes from bar napkins, restaurant napkins, paper towels, toilet paper, old print-outs, and trying to remember if this was just shit you heard from Conan O'Brian?

It is like totally awesome!

Fortunately, Sierra has promised me she'll dress up as any character I want to help me. Today? Bride of Frankenstein. She will wake up at some point to work on it.
 
So ... my Paul Westerberg Story.

He was the frontman for a famous Minnesota based band that helped found alternative music in the 90's as much as The Smiths or R.E.M.. They were called The Replacements. They were legendary for being drunk as fuck for all of their performances and would either put on the best show you'd ever seen or the worst. Nothing in-between.

So his sister was a radio DJ. She didn't want to use the name "Westerberg" becuase she didnn't want people to think she was riding her brother's coattails. She went by Mary Lucia. She's fucking awesome.








I still remember the day after Sparklehorse died. She was talking about how she was so excited to talk to Mark and how the interview was not going well and how Mark was shutting down. So she asked him about the album he had made with Daniel Johnston.

His eyes lit up. And he told the story about how his mom called Daniel's mom and that's how those two ended up making an album together - because of their mom's.

Sometimes moms make everything come together.



So back to Paul.

I was a coke dealer at the time. I'm not talking dime bags or eight balls. Poundage,

So I happened into the apartment building where Paul was living.

I was a fan of his, and I had told my wife at the time, "If I ever meet Paul Westerberg, I'm going to ask hie if he's Mary Lucia's brother. Like, wouldn't that be funny? I bet no on has ever asked him that/"

So ... I end up meeting with my dealer in the same apartment building he was living in. And I was coked the fuck up.

So I ask him if he's Mary Lucia's brother. He doesn't say a word.

It gets worse.

So the guy I was going to meet, he lives in the same direction as Paul's house. It's like I'm stalking him.

HE LIVED IN THE APARTMENT RIGHT NEXT DOOR.

So I say to my dealer, "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you lived next to Paul Westerberg?"

"Who?"

So, I'm sorry, Paul. I'm a fucking idiot. Please forgive me.
 
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My kingdom for a horse. Yeah, I fucking know it's Shakespeare.

Mark, you have a new fan who had never heard of you when you were recording. You are not forgotten.



 
So ...

After I got done "cooking" lady friend her veggie hoagies, she pushes me down into the couch and says she has a surprise for me.

She has an incredible voice. We both kind of do, actually, but mine is impressions and hers is singing.

If you really search for it, I did a voiceover for her. I guess I "have a voice for radio."

And I guess she's been working on this one for a long time.

I don't do recordings because that's not my thing.

But this was the song.








On a wave of mutilation ...
 
So ... my stupid cunt whore slut of an ex-wife ... this is for you. I know you read these.

Remember how you were just going back to school? Remember Jason and Scot and Brandon and Will and Mark?

Remember how you would never sleep with anyone else because we were married? You're a lying fucking cheating whore.

I know you still read my posts.

You are a lying cheating phony whore who tried to make up for her miserableness by breaking up with me. Yeah. Because your failure at life was my fault. Not yours. Mine. You are a stupid cunt. You got a fucking Led Zepelin tattoo and thought it was some form of rebellion. All it did was make you look like some other tramp stamp. Meaningless and a fucking moron. How's that doctorate going? I bet it was worth giving up to your stupid friend who convinced you that partying and getting away from me was the most important thing in your life and why you surprised me with a Led Zeppelin tramp stamp, the band I hate more than the world, and you thought it was cool on one of the nights you stayed out until 4am instead of paying attention to our marriage. A Led Zeppelin tattoo was more important to you than our marriage.

So read this. And pet your dog and say I'm an asshole. And forget the fact you cheated on me with so many guys I can't even remember all their names.

It's all about you. Yet you've never done anything wrong.

By the way, I'm sleeping with Sierra tonight, and she's wearing short shorts and a tank top and is wanting it. I bet the guy who you get picked up at the bar who smells like old wet cigars and tells you you're beautiful despite his eyes looking in other directions ... yeah, he's totally into you.



Oh, and while you're working at CVS, I'm working on the movie you decided wasn't worth waiting on. So you move on to CVS.


Click to expand...
 
bleh.
 
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bleh.
 
To anyone seeking out for some kind of sense in this stupid ass miserable world.

When you've caught on to something good ... don't let go.

Don't let go.


 
To anyone who gives one bloody diarrhea shit about this thread.

So, The Narrator / protagonist dies at the end.

I call him The Narrator because you don't learn his name until the very end.

In case you've forgotten, this story takes place over the course of one day. One disastrous day when he tries to make amends with the past and the present kicks him in the balls and it all goes to shit. And he has no one to blame but himself.

I'm not too worried about anyone stealing my idea. One, it's not all that original, just a different spin. Two, someone stole a script I wrote and shared about 10 years ago and made a YouTube movie out of it and received nothing but thousands of hate comments for it because it was so bad - not the script, but the execution. You can't follow through with my ideas without me because they come from a deep dark sad place within my heart. And yes, I'm sort of saying that to be a dick. Also, don't steal other people's ideas unless you're making a joke acknowledge it.

Three ... no one reads this thread anyway.

So he dies. It's unclear how exactly, but it's of his own making. This is the song that plays over the end credits. After the Grandaddy song. I'm all about the irony. He is, after all, The Every Day Amnesiac.




 
I don’t like this ending…. So sad….
I was hoping for something a little more Harold and Maude.

And don’t sell yourself short. This thread has been read.
 
Um ... it really hasn't. Look at how many posts I had in a row where nobody said anything.

I get it. It's not a fun story on the surface.

It's actually a romantic dramatic story that is somewhere between Catcher In They Rye meets The Bell Jar meets Ethan Frome meets the Radiohead Album "Amnesiac" meets the Tindersticks soundtrack album "Trouble Every Day" that will leave the audience not knowing what to think.

These days, most movies or TV will do some SHOCKING TWIST that is just a gimmick, or try to trick you into this or that so that screenrant will "publish" stories about it.

IT'S SHOCKING! THE INTERNET IS SHOCKED! THE INTERNET IS OUTRAGED! FANS ARE FURIOUS! Please look at my site and give me likes! Please?

What I always set out to do, and this script is over 20 years old, was to make a story where you knew how it was going to end from the beginning, but you wanted to know why. The Shape of Water style.

Not a Syhamalan TWIST! Not a "The Internet is OUTRAGED and SHOCKED by what happened to whomever the fuck."

As always, I appreciate your comments quite a lot - moreso than you realize, but it's where I'm going with it. And Sierra agrees with you.

"Michael, this new version is like ... way too dark. No one is going to like this. Why are you going to this place?"

I don't know. But there's trouble every day.

 
EveryDayAmnesiac said:
Um ... it really hasn't. Look at how many posts I had in a row where nobody said anything.

I get it. It's not a fun story on the surface.

It's actually a romantic dramatic story that is somewhere between Catcher In They Rye meets The Bell Jar meets Ethan Frome meets the Radiohead Album "Amnesiac" meets the Tindersticks soundtrack album "Trouble Every Day" that will leave the audience not knowing what to think.

These days, most movies or TV will do some SHOCKING TWIST that is just a gimmick, or try to trick you into this or that so that screenrant will "publish" stories about it.

IT'S SHOCKING! THE INTERNET IS SHOCKED! THE INTERNET IS OUTRAGED! FANS ARE FURIOUS! Please look at my site and give me likes! Please?

What I always set out to do, and this script is over 20 years old, was to make a story where you knew how it was going to end from the beginning, but you wanted to know why. The Shape of Water style.

Not a Syhamalan TWIST! Not a "The Internet is OUTRAGED and SHOCKED by what happened to whomever the fuck."

As always, I appreciate your comments quite a lot - moreso than you realize, but it's where I'm going with it. And Sierra agrees with you.

"Michael, this new version is like ... way too dark. No one is going to like this. Why are you going to this place?"

I don't know. But there's trouble every day.

Click to expand...


Very hard to make a comment
Your material is meant to be read
Not reacted to
Emojis do not convey the right message
I've been posting to myself in a thread for almost a year now
Folks are drawn in but the subject matter is very sensitive and it really is not anyone's place to judge your pain
It is a balancing act between relating your story and not triggering soneone
 
Appreciate the input, as always.

Nevertheless, The Narrator dies at the end.

On one hand, it's meant to make the audience appreciate the fact they're alive.

On the other, it's a "meditation" on how the past follows us. You can run from it and hide from it as best you can. It will find you. No matter how many drugs you use, no matter how much you drink, no matter how many people you sleep with, your past is right there waiting to judge you. It's a raging beast coiled and ready to strike at a moment's weakness. If you can't meet it and shut it down, you're fucked.

So ... I'm fucked.

As a wise man once said, "We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us." Yeah, I know, that's from Magnolia.

Bit of a Faulkner ripoff, but it still hits the heart.

I guess what I'm trying to tell in this story is that if you can't make peace with whatever shit happened to you, no matter how horrible it may be, you're just going to make it more horrible. Some people can't stop making their lives more horrible. They just want to pile on the hurt. The Narrator is one of those people.

People who kill themselves, I don't blame them. I don't judge them. Sometimes the struggle is too much. Simple as that. It's difficult to see goodness in this world anymore if you don't know where to look for it.

But yeah. He dies in the end. Under the blanket Audrey made for him.







I still miss you, Mark. And Sierra is in love with your music.
 
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So ... Sierra likes to dig through my stuff to see what she can find.

She happened upon this idea I had for a musical about Batman and Joker.

It was three acts, with Joker introduction and ending, plus Joker introducing and concluding each act.

Each version of Joker was to be a different person. I was to be the final Joker.

I shelved the project when Joker became saturated storywise with his dual / duel and dichotomy with Batman. Although I took from the idea in my other stories, that particular idea was put away.

So ... Sierra finds it. And reads it.

The concept was to never have any two versions of Joker. Every time, he was supposed to be different.

This included female versions of Joker.

No, I did not invent this idea. DC started an alternate universe where Bruce died during the infamous scene, and his father Thomas Wayne became Batman and his mother Martha became Joker. I wish I had invented it, but I didn't. Not by a long shot.

If you really want to talk comics ... let's grab a 24-pack and get started.

Basically, it would be Bruce Wayne being locked up in Arkham Asylum, and Joker welcoming all sorts of his former friends and enemies to talk with him. Riddler, Freeze, Nightwing, Dent, Alfred, Scarecrow, etc.

At the end of the play, it's realized that it's just Bruce as an old man staring into the fireplace at Wayne Manor. Joker won. Bruce cracked.

So we needed seven different Jokers for the play. And it was a musical.

So half the songs were covers, and half originals ... written by me.

Sierra says, "Dude, I didn't know you could write songs! Can I please sing this one at the end?! Please?"

"Um. The play is barely even half written. And you want a part?"

"Yes. I'm the last Joker. Will you please finsih this?!"



This is the song she wants to sing:









And yes, it's creepy. Not an accident.
 
EveryDayAmnesiac said:
So ... Sierra likes to dig through my stuff to see what she can find.

She happened upon this idea I had for a musical about Batman and Joker.

It was three acts, with Joker introduction and ending, plus Joker introducing and concluding each act.

Each version of Joker was to be a different person. I was to be the final Joker.

I shelved the project when Joker became saturated storywise with his dual / duel and dichotomy with Batman. Although I took from the idea in my other stories, that particular idea was put away.

So ... Sierra finds it. And reads it.

The concept was to never have any two versions of Joker. Every time, he was supposed to be different.

This included female versions of Joker.

No, I did not invent this idea. DC started an alternate universe where Bruce died during the infamous scene, and his father Thomas Wayne became Batman and his mother Martha became Joker. I wish I had invented it, but I didn't. Not by a long shot.

If you really want to talk comics ... let's grab a 24-pack and get started.

Basically, it would be Bruce Wayne being locked up in Arkham Asylum, and Joker welcoming all sorts of his former friends and enemies to talk with him. Riddler, Freeze, Nightwing, Dent, Alfred, Scarecrow, etc.

At the end of the play, it's realized that it's just Bruce as an old man staring into the fireplace at Wayne Manor. Joker won. Bruce cracked.

So we needed seven different Jokers for the play. And it was a musical.

So half the songs were covers, and half originals ... written by me.

Sierra says, "Dude, I didn't know you could write songs! Can I please sing this one at the end?! Please?"

"Um. The play is barely even half written. And you want a part?"

"Yes. I'm the last Joker. Will you please finsih this?!"



This is the song she wants to sing:









And yes, it's creepy. Not an accident.
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I was always confused by how The Batman was portrayed through the decades
He was suppose to represent what happens when you give into fear, hate and revenge
Was he any better than the villains he preyed upon?
He was never a super hero
He was always a vigilante, even in the 1940s
The Joker was a tormentor but also a victim like The Batman
This was there inescapable link and the reason there could never be a winner
Of course I'm citing comics I read 30+ years ago

The 60s tv show is the best stoner Batman
Does the camp get any better
 
I had some ... sort of ... similar thoughts a while back on this very forum.



EveryDayAmnesiac said:
In all seriousness, I am just sad all the time these days. Except when I'm laughing hysterically at all the sadness. It's maddening.

I was 9 years old when introduced to The Joker. And Joker was fucking cool. I sometimes wonder why I was so drawn to that character before I knew anything about madness / sadness. I was a child, for fuck's sake. When I saw Tim Burton's Batman movie back in 1989, I didn't know anything about Batman or Joker or comics or movies or anything really. But after I saw that movie in the theater, all I could talk about for months was Joker, Joker, Joker. Love that Joker.

Nicholson, Ledger, Phoenix, Hamill, they've all done a great job. Magnificent performances. I recite and imitate their lines all the time. But I still do my own Joker laugh. I generally don't let anyone hear it, but sometimes somebody says something so outrageously surprising and hilarious that I can't help but let it out. Ha ha ha. Hee hee hee.

At what point does laughing become unhealthy? I don't know.

Do Batman and Joker complete each other? Or do they make completion impossible? I don't know. It's interesting that they both have to wear a mask to be a freak. And they are both more comfortable being Batman and Joker than Bruce Wayne and … ???

Batman and Joker are an interesting dichotomy. One could argue that only one of them exists, and that the other is only a figment of imagination, or a dual personality, or a nagging conscience, or a dark desire, or a yearning to be somthing better, or ... whatever the fuck. It's complicated.

All I know is, the more time I spend alone, the more I want to embrace my Joker. Wear a purple coat. Wear clown makeup. Laugh manically. And watch everything go to hell. But I don't know why.

I don't think a virus or a bomb or a natural disaster or a space spore will end humanity. I think it's just simple sadness that will end it. It will be a slow descent, one that's already started, that will bring all sentient life to a point where everyone just gives up. Sadness will end the world. You heard it here first. But like, after you've heard it a million times before. Lol. :lol:

But yeah, sadness. I don't think there's anything more dangerous or lethal or smothering or extinguishing or finalizing (with a nonexistent "God") than sadness.

Maybe it's merely a failure on a planetary level. Or maybe a curse on our solar system. Or maybe it's all around our galaxy. Or maybe it means something more that we can't yet understand. Or maybe it's a fuckup and inherent in our entire fucking universe and crosses all dimensions. I'm drawn across the universe to a guy who literally shot his heart out with a shotgun in a Knoxville alley in 2010. He took a shotgun and shot the bullet through his heart. That is not fucking around. That is not reaching for attention. That is an ending.

I miss you, Mark. I miss you so fucking much. We all do. David and Scott and Jason and John and Brian and Nina and Tom and Thom and Frank and Wayne and Daniel and everyone. Sparklehorse was something all your own. Your music will never be duplicated. Timeless and timely and sad and unsure and questioning and mysterious and … Sparklehorse.

Interstellar, the film, says that love can transcend dimensions of time and space, that it's observable and powerful, so ... can't sadness do the same thing? Hasn't sadness made as much of an impact on your life as love? Why does sadness stick around when we (usually) want it to go away? I say usually because I'm crazy about my sadness. I fucking love what it brings to me. I happily drown in that shit and just want more.

Sadness rules the world as we know it. Not love. That's a shitty thing to think about. But here we are.

It's a sad and beautiful world.
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In the meantime, can you believe they're using a Nirvana song to promote the new Batman movie??!!







No matter how you slice it, Batman is simply a great story ... even the Adam West version. :ko:



It's an interesting but important difference between Joker and Riddler. Riddler is out to prove he's smarter than Batman, but Joker just wants to play. If Batman proves he can't match the Joker's game ... game over.
 
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