Little Bill

So I took a break from screenwriting today (that’s right, you read correctly) and plopped down on the couch to turn off my brain for a few mins. I flipped through the channel guide and saw that The Empire Strikes Back was on. So, I changed the channel, started shuffling about on the couch, kicked off my slippers and pulled the blanket over me when I was startled to hear…

                    DARTH VADER
               No. YO SOY tu padré!

…and laughed my ass off. Turned out I’d changed the channel to HBO Spanish. Hi-larious. High point of the day.

There’s something amazing about the water. If I’m feeling a little off-kilter it always brings me back to center, to my equilibrium. Today I found my center on the beach at Atlantic City.

My best friend Mike and I head over to check it out. Neither of us are horribly crazy gamblers — though I never mind a few hours at the poker tables from time to time — but we just wanted to see what all the fuss is about. I knew that if I wasn’t going to enjoy the kitch of the casinos, which I figured I would after my reaction to Las Vegas, I could find some enjoyment with my camera, the boardwalk, and the beach.

And that’s exactly what I did. I listened to the seagulls. I kept calling them pigeons and Mike kept correcting me. I know they’re not pigeons but I just couldn’t stop getting that word out of my head. I listened to the water crash against the rocks, and wash up the shore. And I met some cool kids.

There’s something rejuvenating about the beach in winter. One day I’ll have to live on the ocean. I can wake up with a cup of coffee or tea (or cocoa!) and listen to the waves, or feel the wind blow the reeds on the dunes and listen to the pigeon-seagulls fly overhead.

And I will never be far from center again.

One of my favorite words is catalyst. I remember being first introduced to it in chemistry class in high school. The teacher taught us that a catalyst is a substance that accelerates a chemical reaction. She went on to explain to us that the catalyst does this while not undergoing any chemical change. At least not a permanent one. Then she went on to explain how that word has been used figuratively in language, as an "agent of change."

Ahh, chemistry. Another word prepurposed for the abstract.

Since when did chemistry become so difficult? Interpersonal chemistry, much unlike scientific chemistry, isn’t as simple as following the steps. When it comes to people there are more factors in which to deal.

Feelings. Emotions are crazy. They sometimes confuse us, or delude us, or confirm that which our heart tells us. This person makes me laugh a whole lot, therefore I’m happy. This person feels like home, I’m comfortable. This person makes me apprehensive and I want to escape.

Rationality. Sometimes we can think a situation to death. Other times we can rush in without planning for the road ahead. I’m happy, therefore I want to be with them. I just got out of a relationship, I can’t just rush back into one, no matter how good I feel. I can’t trust myself.

Intuition. Our gut instinct. Perhaps it’s a sixth sense. Knee-jerk reactions. This person’s just looking for a free ride to New York City. Is she just interested in headshots and a free dinner? I’m inexplicably drawn to this person and cannot explain why I want nothing more than to be around them. I feel smothered! Flee!

I think I’ve long given up the concept of the soul mate. I don’t believe there’s a single person out there who, more than anyone else in the entire world, is meant only for me. I think sometimes the best solution is to find someone with whom you are just most compatible with and build a future; for better or worse, as they’d say. It’d be nice to find someone who manages to bring about a healthy balance between those agents of change. Wow, I really am a Libra, aren’t I?

This is one of the benefits of a small-town life like the kind I’ve left behind. Eventually you run out of choices and have to choose. Or move. Or hope someone moves in. How do you do that in a place like New York? At any point there might be a better match coming around the corner. Literally! At what point do we just think, "Enough! I choose YOU!" and move on to another stage in life?

I’m ready for that next stage in life.

I haven’t written in quite a while. I suppose I haven’t had much to share. No, strike that. I haven’t had much I’ve wanted to share. There are some things that I just don’t write about here. But that’s not the biggest reason for the lack of updates.

I’ve been unable to sleep lately.

My sleep schedule got royally messed up around Christmas, when I was visiting the hometown. Days turned to nights and mornings became items at the end of the day, not the beginning. I was waking around noon (or later) and getting to sleep around four in the morning. The week of New Year was no different.

Getting back to a normal schedule proved impossible with the onset of a very sporadic bronchitis,which I seem to get once a year. So, these last few weeks have found me floundering between being awake and being asleep.

Anyway, I think I’ve finished being sick (or I’m pretty close to it) and my sleep schedule seems to have fallen back on track. Hopefully my life will fall back on track soon too.

Gas station neon sign, orange and white
Winks an eye and it whispers, "Goodnight."
Drunk on the train to Chicago, I feel all right

Half-pint of Dewar’s White Label still half-full
The train lurches left, lurches right
Drunk on the train to Chicago, I feel all right

     I left a New York
     Of gas bills and cigarette burns
     Wasted days of whiskey
     And "As the World Turns"

Train driver, hit the gas, shovel coal, move your ass
We’ve got a schedule to keep
Drunk on the train to Chicago, I fall asleep

     And in my dreams, we’re careening drunk
     Down the streets of my hometown
     The man in the moon is on benzedrine
     Merrily spinning around

Bells ring and lights flicker
Old girlfriends, good liquor
Hold my hand all through the night
Drunk on the train to Chicago,
I feel all right
I feel all right

— Drink Me, Train to Chicago

kelly: what’s up with the phone interview thing???
kelly: this is the second place that’s wanted to do it that way
little bill: i have no idea
kelly: the last phone interview I did, they made me do a freakin’ ROLE PLAY
kelly: over the PHONE
little bill: WOAH
little bill: did you cast magic missile?
kelly: LOL not that kind of role play!
little bill: did you roll 1D20 to see if you got the job?

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little bill: hey, do you mind if i blog snippets of that role play blog chat?
kelly: sure
kelly: go back and read that sentence you just wrote. it’s like, the ultimate!

Continue Reading…

So, this morning I had the exquisite pleasure of waking up to my upstairs neighbor (and landlord’s) three year old daughter seemingly tone-deaf bellowing Jingle Bells. Thanks to that, I had the song stuck in my head all morning.

I do not like Jingle Bells, and I’ll tell you why. When I was in grade school, being part of the school chorus was mandatory up to a certain grade. During one of the years — I honestly couldn’t tell you if it was second grade or fifth — we, along with the school’s orchestra, had to perform a Christmas concert for our families.

One of the songs featured was a montage of Christmas Carols. The twist on it was that the concert’s theme was — Christmas Around the World — or something along those lines. Well, as we went from Feliz Navidad to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in Spanish, we go to Jingle Bells. In faux-Chinese:

Ching-oo pow, Jingle Bells
Ching-oo pow, Jingle Bells
Moogoo gai pan. Jingle all the way
Oh sop gum fun, Oh what fun
Shrimp flie lice, It is to ride
Almond coookieeeeee… Um. Yeah.

Sixty pre-teens singing this. In unison. And then the song went on to other Christmas songs in real languages. Properly translated. Now the strange thing is, I didn’t even remember any of that until this very moment. I actually remembered the "verses."

Now, I’m not really angry at what happened. This was the early eighties. It was two decades from now. But what it has done is revealed to me just how much the world has changed. That performance would never fly in this day and age. Lawsuits would be filed. Democrats would be offended. Republicans would be shouting, “what?! What’s wrong with that?!” (I kid, my few Republican friends…)

It just reminds me that it might be a snail’s pace but progress is moving forward. Though there’s still a part of me that wishes, back then, I could’ve actually raised my voice and said something. Because if it bothers me now, I’m sure it bothered me then… on some level. But what’s an eight year old to do?

It’s another year, and perhaps more awareness acceptance will come to our people. In an election year with a woman and a black man running for president, maybe these issues will be raised. Or maybe they (the sex/race issue) will be disregarded. But you have to admit this, the thought’s crossed your mind. Food for thought, eh?

At this time last year I was preparing for a wild night on the town, while daring to leave a Crazy Christian Internet Girl in my apartment all alone. I went out with Mike and Kate and my awesome roommate Steve.

I started a new job working from home, which took me to Las Vegas.

I’ve loved, I’ve lost, and I’ve loved again. Then I lost again.

I made a film, Went on a date and subsequently got my car towed and I discovered Ninja Mannequin Feet. I rode my bike all the way up and down Brooklyn.

I went swimming. My doctor recommend against getting tested for STDs. I got tested anyway. Clean!

Oh, and I was accused of being an axe-murderer. Okay, not quite. I paid off my college loans.

I quit the working-from-home job and started another one. Felt good about it, too.

I fell in love with my hometown again. And remembered the games we play. Photographed Mike and Karly’s wedding. Photographed Paul and Kari’s wedding.

I met The Slackmistress and her awesome husband BeTheBoy.

I turned thirty. And survived. Bet you didn’t have an opera singer sing you happy birthday. I broke my glasses and fell in love with eggrolls. All in the same blog entry.

I connected with strangers, had a not-so-great Thanksgiving, which was remedied by a nice Christmas. Also, I was reminded that Love IS Possible. Just maybe not for me. Or maybe it is. Much to reflect upon.

Drinks tonight with Mike and Kate!

2008 is upon us.

Ahh yes, the long awaited post-Christmas blog entry. It’s taken me a good few days of digestion (read: decompression) to write, but here’s the crazy thing. Nothing happened. Zip, zilch, zero, nada. No drama, no fights. It was nice.

It was also a bit boring. My family doesn’t seem to do anything. Between myself and my father, we had twenty new DVDs to watch. He rented some, I brought ones I’d recently purchased or wanted to see again. Of the five days we were there I don’t even want to tell you how many movies I watched.

Well, actually I will: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Elf, Surf’s Up (All of which feature the lovely future Mrs. Little Bill, Zooey Deschanel), Ratatouille, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, The Bourne Ultimatum, Letters from Iwo Jima and A Christmas Story. TWICE.

My Brothers and I all managed to get out of the house and go out on the town — well, one bar — and get ourselves a bit lit up. Luckily, we were all wise enough to call a parental unit to come pick our drunk asses up. The next day I got my ass out of the house and took some photos of my hometown. I went high tech and low tech. My Canon 40d and my Diana 151. It was brilliant. At some point tonight I’ll try and scan the toy camera photos.

Another year is upon us. Will there be changes? I don’t know. Many of them were actually made already. Some of them by me, some of them to me. All for the better, I’m beginning to believe.

2008 will be the year I become an adult. I’m gonna try my damdest to make that happen and not kill the child within me too. However I seem to have left a little bit of my wide-eyed wonder somewhere else.

This guy says the horse can do.
If he says the horse can do, can do. Can do.

It is Sunday morning. I am lying in my bed, bundled up under my big heavy covers. The sun threatens to shine through the red curtains and blind me, so I close my eyes and listen. To my left, a beautiful Yellow Cat begins purring the moment she notices I am awake. To my right, a black Phoebe shifts, her tail happily batting down on the mattress (and occasionally on my face.)

Still, I listen.

I listen to the wind, blowing through the bare branches in the backyard, rattling the glass in the windows. Pouring in little bits of frosty air in through the cracks where my window unit sits, reminding me to put it away for the season. I listen to the few birds that have remained. I listen to the few leaves that aren’t trapped under the bits of snow that remain staccato across the yard.

I listen to my own breathing; soft and steady.

I take two more deep breaths and I rise. Awake.

Well that basically describes it. I’m doing okay for the most part. A little stress here, a little relief there. Sometimes I feel out of control and in such a whirlwind of activities I forget that I have a home in which to return. Other moments the silence is maddening, along with my restlessness.

All-in-all it’s good. I’m meeting new people, solidifying already important relationships — my best friend just asked me to be his best man — and learning that other friendships are like ping pong: you need two to play, at least if you want an interesting outcome.

We’re nearing the end of the year and 2007 is ramping up to be the year that could’ve been; revisiting past events and wondering where they went wrong, how they could have been avoided or how I would have done it differently. My time was spent focusing less on the here and now, or more importantly, the future and what it will bring and that’s not healthy.

Turning thirty has changed that in a lot of ways, though. I’m seeing my life on a larger scale, and taking steps to ensure that what will come next happens less serendipitously. Perhaps next time hindsight will be blurry, because foresight was 20/20.

How nice would that be?

It’s been a year to the day since we first started talking, and I’m sad to say that we aren’t now. I really wish I knew what happened, and I refuse to spend any more time guessing why one of the most of my very best friends decided to stop. Also, I’ve no interest in resorting to nonsensical dramatics. Still, I miss you horribly.

Lately I’ve noticed I haven’t been taking as many photos as normally. I need to get back on that. I’ve been thinking the same thought every time I pack up my junk and get ready to step out the door, "I probably won’t find something very interesting today. It’ll be fine." and invariably I come across a situation where I needed my camera. Fortunately I have a cameraphone with me but still, it’s not quite the same.

Last week, one morning after a storm, I was crossing Broadway on my way to work. There, off to my left, was a gentleman pulling out his pocket-sized digital camera (why wasn’t that not with me?) and pointed it at the Empire State Building. Big whoop, every tourist takes a photograph of it. Still, I paused to look. The top quarter of the building had a glow to it; the clouds had parted and let a giant beam of light rain down right atop its spire. It was glorious.

That said, I’m carrying any one of my many cameras with me every day this week. Let’s see what comes up.

I’ll leave you with something I came across with my camera phone this weekend…

…perhaps it is possible.

The wind pounds
the branches and leaves

which, in turn
rattle the glass; shake the house

which, in turn
invokes feline leap; a startled yelp

which, in turn
rouses slumbering boy;
alone, in half the bed

which, in turn
makes him yearn
for the rise—

—and fall
of your chest.

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