Filed under: stand-up journal | Tags: 30, 30dayscreenplay, April, blog, comedy, days, futile, internet, love, month, NaNoWriMo, national, New York, novel, Orange County, scarce, screenplay, Script Frenzy, writing
Living without Internet.
Other than what should be a complete oxymoron, living without Internet is pretty much the most inconvenient thing I can do to myself. So unfortunately for you, my blog posts have become scarce, and my comedy updates intermittent.
But we’re back, at least for tonight. Since tonight, is a big night. Not only do I have a new video for YouTube (patience…I will post it soon), it’s also April 1st. If there were ever a month that could be anthropomorphically described as a burning pile of whore, April would be said pile.
Why?
Because I’m a bitter, bitter, human being, and I still remember the terrible loss I suffered from last year’s Script Frenzy, a national contest every April where millions of writers join to try to complete a screenplay in 30 days1, duly documented at the original 30dayscreenplay.blogspot.com. Exactly a year ago I began a journey. Thirty days later, I ended up with a magnificent 13 pages. Pathetic. I cried horribly and ate loads of chocolate while watching 27 Dresses.
But that was Orange County. This is New York. Different time, different story. More importantly – less sun, and a nonexistent love life2. This year, I shall so excruciatingly punish Script Frenzy with my furious typing that Script Frenzy won’t know the difference between brass knuckles to the face and its mother’s warm, welcoming teets3.
So go check it out. 30dayscreenplay. The challenge gets taken on for a second season.
—
1Brought to you by the guys who started National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo), where you write a novel in 30 days. Sherlock, I think I sense a pattern here…
2Okay, my love life was always nonexistent. But really, less sun this year, less distractions.
3See what I did there? I’m trying to say I’m going to punish Script Frenzy so bad that brass knuckles will actually seem nice, much like its mother’s warm, welcoming teets. I think Script Frenzy may be a cow.
Filed under: conversations, observations | Tags: biweekly, definition, dick, English, fortnight, genius, hate, love, stupidity
Biweekly is the most retarded word that exists in the English language.
Many of you have argued that it means twice a week, or once every two weeks. As a matter of fact, it means both. Yeah. Exactly. Check it.
So to keep things clear, from now on, I’ll use the word fortnight (fourteen nights – yeah, leave it up to the English language to deprecate perfectly senseful words). Fuck “biweekly.”
Which idiot came up with that idea?
“Hey, here’s a word. It means one thing, but also means something else, and they can both make sense in the same context so the meaning is completely ambiguous.”
“Isn’t that confusing?”
“If by confusing, you mean awesome, then yeah, it’s confusing.”
“You’re a genius! I love you.”
“Thank you. I hate you.”
“What?”
“No, it’s okay. I hate you means I love you too.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Yeah I am.”
Filed under: observations | Tags: desires, experience, life, love, lust, sex, sight, smell, sound, taste, touch
Woman. Immaculate.
I want to see her
Lips.
Nose.
Ears.
And eyes.
What’s on her mind?
I want to touch her
Face.
Hands.
Neck.
And all over.
How does her body feel against mine?
I want to smell her
Sweat.
Hair.
Lust.
And skin.
Where has she been?
I want to hear her
Pleasure.
Pain.
Fears.
And desires.
What? Where? How? When?
I want to taste her
Lips.
Skin.
Sweat.
Pleasure.
Is she sweet?
Of course she is.
She always is.
—
Being curious is what I do. It’s what people everywhere should do. Window. I want to see through it. What’s on the other side? Fabric. I want to touch it. What does it feel like against my fingers? Flower. I want to smell it (granted, not during allergy season). Is it sensational? Music. I want to hear it. Can I drown myself in the harmony? Food. I want to taste it. Will I want to spit it out?
