Okay so this next post will probably reveal:

a.) a couple things my wife is embarrassed that are true about me.
b.) something those who know me know but are shocked by when they find out.
c.) a statement that I’ve never really said before and can’t believe I actually believe.

Now that I’ve made this trivial post seem important or revealing of some sort of important or relevant material I’ll state: This is about wrestling, movies,  and “The Rock”.

So much for hype huh? Hey if it works for Michael Bay why not me?

To start with a.) and b.) I’m a rather big wrestling fan. How big? I DVR about four shows a week.  Oh what a world it’d be for me if I was able to be paid to write for wrestling one day. This is not so much a serious goal but a really fun way to tease the wife.

Danger Will Robinson Danger! *Tangent alert*

I’m often confronted by the non wrestling sector of my friends--which strangely is the majority of my friends--with:

“Wrestling is fake. It’s just a soap opera for men. It means nothing!”

“O contrar mon frar” I counter! Yeah we all know it’s fake okay--so is the premise of four turtles that happen to be mutants, ninjas, and now teens but nobody tries to protest my watching that. Let me get this straight I can sit through a Michael Bay flick--with all but the remotest of hint of realism, but wrestling is off limits? I’ve yet to understand their theory on when and when not to suspend disbelief. Most of the ones who say the second statement are women who watch soap operas or shows such as the OC etc etc.  As for the nothing comment-well sometimes art can only be to entertain. That being said there are several instances where wrestling serves as social commentary (see the right to censor & Billy and Chuck etc.)

Interesting side note on Michael Bay--why am I picking on him so much--probably Pearl Harbor--or the Island. I’ve recently read that he’ll be a producer for two new versions of horror classics--A nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th.  My thoughts on what those would be like is a whole new blog in itself.

*End of previous tangent.*

So yes much to my wife’s dismay I watch wrestling a lot. I also read about it--like many who have an interest in something. I’ve read the books of my favorites. When I was young I loved reading the magazines devoted to wrestling. I’ve paid for pay per views-though now it is becoming way too expensive--or maybe I’m more protective of my hard earned money? Another thing I do with a bit more frequency is read stories on the business (who is hurt  and who is leaving etc etc.) Trying to figure out where they’re going with storylines is a fun time for me. It has become increasingly easier to figure out though. Well as I read through some things I come across a story about The Rock who would rather be known as Dwayne Johnson or at the very least Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. It appears he will be taking on a new role. The role of The Tooth Fairy in well The Tooth Fairy--a 20th Century Fox film. Variety reports that the movie is scheduled to begin shooting in August. Leading the way will be Michael Lembeck who was the main man for both The Santa Clause 2: The Mrs. Clause, and The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause. Frightening isn’t it? When it came to the WWE I was never a big fan of the Rock--especially as a face.


Danger Will Robinson Danger! *jargon alert*

In wrestling you have a:
Face: or babyface is a character who is portrayed as heroic. Not everything a face wrestler does must be heroic: faces need only to be cheered by the audience to be effective characters.
Heel: The villain. Heels are portrayed as behaving in an immoral manner, breaking rules or otherwise taking advantage of their opponents outside of the bounds of the rules of the match.

*End jargon alert*

As a heel I think he found his voice--and it’s what lead to his popularity and eventual face turn. He always showed a range and charisma. He could hold a crowd an more importantly move one. I never cheered for his character and was bored by the fans over reaching love for it. He could be funny--boy could he! Further proof was his stints on
SNL. All in all I like The Rock as an actor (this is c.) His charm, talent, and range came through loud and clear in his episodes. I had hope for him. Sure The Rundown sucked but he was entertaining in it. I won’t even go into Doom.

While reading Be Cool (the sequel to Get Shorty) I came across the character of Elliot Wilhelm a gay bodyguard. I kept thinking to myself the Rock would well for lack of a better term rock in this role. I was amazed to find that he would later be tapped for the role. A fan of Get Shorty (the book & the movie) I looked forward to the movie and strangely for hi portrayal. It turns out the movie, the character, and the actor disappointed me. I thought he just may be the next big action star, instead his career has been body slammed by bad family comedies. The Game Plan was the beginning. I mean I get it these famildies are worth some quick and often easy cash--but really nothing else. I also get they all do it. Arnold had Kindergarten Cop and Twins but he was pretty established by then. Stallone too had one with Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot but he was well on into it all then too. It’s a shame with The Rock. He was pegged to be the next Arnold or the next  Stallone  but then so was Vin Diesel. Vinny was no good though. He blasted on to the scene with some action hits and then went into the famildies and now he has vanished(Thankfully). Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has potential and his choice of characters for the most part is interesting--gay bodyguard--an action star who's stricken with amnesia--agent 23 (oh yeah Get Smart!). I hope he can clothesline himself out of the famildy trap.

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The stage is set with lamps--yes lamps--everywhere. Actually I'm putting the cart behind the horse here.  You heard me right--I know how the saying goes but  in this case--I actually started at the beginning--when I shouldn't have. The play came first but nothing came of it other than a mild  criticism of theatre and me pondering certain theory of the stage.  So this older lady walks onto the stage that is now filled with lamps.  Lamps.  She talks about old age-of memories.  On and on and on--poorly written--poorly acted--also probably too close to home for me. The character claims to have thought about what it would be like to o through old age….points to the audience and says "as have you".  I've never really let those happen to me. I mean since childhood…when it crept in…it was followed by a menacing fear that filled every part of my being. I've never been one to cope with what fate will bring me in old age. I've always tried to push away any thoughts of  what being old would be away. Plus I was pretty sure that I'd die by 30--tragically a theory confirmed by a gypsy…a Psychic and a witch doctor of sort…the deadline was 28 but clearly that passed on by….I digress…..

I should probably start from the lightning bolt moment…. A bit of background first. There is this small old lay who comes into the store about once a week. She comes in by herself an seems to be a whole mess of cranky ALL THE TIME!  She shuffles slowly in--a shaky--oh come on you know the old people shuffle!  I've never seen her smiling--ever--well until yesterday--but that isn't background.  She yell from the start--once literally with only one foot out of her car. Complains--which is her right--but about everything.

Case in point: She wants a handicapped parking spot. As she arrives a red car pulls into the last one. The old lay pulls instead in the  next space (not handicapped) right next to the one she wanted. I'm working outside--she flags me over. As soon as I'm in ear shot she rants about how she hates red cars, because they're lazy and what not--okay I fibbed.  "Did you see that car? Can you believe that? I hate people like that. I mean they all use those handicap parking spaces an they  don't deserve or need them." It should be noted that at this point a lady with practically a dead leg dragging behind her has exited said red car. As she pulls her leg behind her the old angry lady says "You see! You see. I hate people like that. I hate this place!"

Every time she comes in she is sour dour lean and mean. No matter who help or how hard they try. One time while searching for Toaster Strudels was yelling and yelling. The problem was the yelling was to no one in particular--in fact there was no one over there at that time--who worked for the store.  A woman who worked--restocking the magazines--came up to her and she yelled at her. The magazine lady came over to me and told me about it. I went over and she told me she "wouldn't be shopping here anymore" because "they move the Toaster Strudels " at this point I take two or three steps to the left where they always have been and show them to her. She doesn't thank me only mumbles about the horrible place we run….

Well example of her behavior like this can go on and on---worse treatment can be pointed to but this isn't a railing on her--and  I'm pulling off course the longer I keep on them. But I've often wondered where sudden changes in behavior come from. Near death? Fine drugs? A visit from the karma PO PO? What would the karma PO PO look like? I keep seeing a long dark blue rain slicker--though I'm not sure why. Well the KP (karma PO PO) must've handed her down a big ole sentencing cus she as of late has been real nice--calm almost friendly. Another new thing: compliment for me. But more she was engaging my conversations when I try! Nice. All one can ask for in the "service industry" As of late she has been coming with her grandchildren an her great grandchild. Her interaction with them--from both sides--has been sweet to see. Happy even. It mae me remember how she interacted with people when not yelling

One time real recently (coincidently after seeing the play and therefore the monologue lamps) this:

Me: how are you this morning?
Her: Oh I've been better….you?
Me: I can't complain…I hope everything is okay.
Her: Oh yeah it is. I'm just tire…don't get old…trust me.
Me: I'll try not to
Her: Old and cranky.




And then bam:

Smee: I've just had an apostrophe.
Captain Hook: I think you mean an epiphany.
Smee: No... lightning has just struck my brain.
Captain Hook: Well, that must hurt.

Like smee lightning had just struck my brain. I saw her as fragile…as a human…and I realized well that it has to be hard when you get to a point in your life when everything is a dwindling. I saw her scared….and I saw that I probably see her as this or that without a care for the why…only that she was this to me or that to me…. back to the play and back to Lamps…plays should touch you…anger you…move you…etc…and  well I suppose if  I'm honest with myself (which is hard for any of us to actually do.) I probably must admit it worked  on me….it simply took a few times and  an old lady for it to happen…Now why didn't I like the monologue? Well the writing seemed rather boring-the actor was dryer than Father time's butt crack….yep those are true….but are those two the only reasone or is it me?

I listen to radio at night--till I fall asleep--but only because I like to? No probably because I'm afraid of the dark or to be more exact the final darkness….the things you learn about yourself when you aren't trying to.

Well it’s time yet again for another shot o whiskey---a new year’s resolution was to submit as much a possible--while when rejection came my way having a shot and shrugging it off.

This is the interesting  rejection email from a British magazine:

Dear James Evans

I hope that you’re well. I just wanted to say thank you for sending us your work. It’s great to receive your creativity and inspiration. To say thanks in a big way, we’re offering you the chance to subscribe for a limited time for 50% less.
 
Best wishes


So bottoms up!

So today this old guy come into our line today an  spontaneously combusted. It was blamo all fire! Burn! Burn! Crispy tater….okay now really what happened. He crept up on us with stealth--okay he was all movement and shuffling feet. He put up about 4 items….and one ticking time bomb--okay the time bomb--was really a box of flavorite cinnamon and brown sugar instant oatmeal. Which rang up at $2.01--its normal price. He complained that  “it should be  $1.85 no no $1.89 no no $1.85 no something like that.” I go back to check the price--asking him if he got it in the normal place. As opposed to an end cap or etc--he replied no! I check and the label read $2.01. I come back and tell him he nods like it was okay. After paying he walks away in a huff and his wife grills me about the price and I explain. He comes back yelling and waving a sign. He come up to me and yells at me “you want to cheat me! You want to cheat me!” I asked him where he picked up the sign and  he said  around the corner from the cereal-well as the cashier was about to send me to get him his 12 cents--he throws the sign (a square of paper) into my face--I mean what the hell!! Then he grabs it from me and then shoves it on the cashier--takes it back from her goes to a manger and then refuses the money and leaves!

Joann’s apartment is low key almost drab. The room is filled with photos of Joann by herself or photos of her and Charlie. Furniture wise there isn’t much the room being dominated by books and magazines.                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Scene 1
Joann walks onstage holding a paper. She reads it aloud as she prepares. She hurries with nervous excitement. She is wearing a plain but pretty white dress and no makeup. There is a glow about her that she either can’t or refuses to see. On a table in the middle of the room there are several printed pictures, candles and a small lamp. On the floor in front of  it is a matt.

Joann:
The rice is almost finished. That’ll have to take care of “An offering of food.” I hope that was a good call. The paper said bowls of rice are used in most offerings so I think we should be fine. Oh you know what…

Exits into the kitchen. When she returns she has a bowl of rice and a package of rice cakes. She puts them both on the table.

Joann:
There we go. I hope those rice cakes would be a snack tomorrow but what are a few rice cakes between friends and gods….or goddesses….Lets see the list again.…“Purification. An important part of ritual purification in Hinduism is the bathing of the entire body, particularly in rivers considered holy such as the Ganges” Oh well I took a bath…Use that new dove body wash my mom sent me…I feel pretty purified…Okay what else….“symbols statues or images of the gods or goddesses”…I have print out of those-so check on that.….Rati and someone else….and a ton more if they‘re needed…who would’ve thought there’d be so many? Anyway…a big fat check on that….a small lamp….yep….even candles…because every religion uses candles….okay “many times women perform long hymns“…I think I’ll skip that part….“prayers in Sanskrit“….hmm that can be a problem. I hope they know English.

.
 Joann sits on the matt. She fiddles with the rice bowl, cakes and the photos. Unsurely she looks through the photos,  and then stands up two of them. The first one a bright color filled picture of the Hindu god Ganesh. The other a softer black and white photo of the Goddess Rati.  She searches for her box of matches. Shrugs.  

Joann:
The candle will Just be decoration….garnish even…yeah I like that….sounds nice…hmmm…oh yeah the lamp!

Turns on the lamp.

Joann:
Purified check. Lamp check. Rice check. Okay what did Charlie find for me. Hindu Prayer for Desire. That works. It better. “I mean I hope. Desire did it, Desire does it, I do
not do it. Desire is the doer, I am not the doer. Desire is the agent, I am not the agent. O Desire, here, this oblation to you!” Hmm…now what? Wait…“This prayer is recited to expiate sins committed through lust” This won’t work at all….I haven’t committed any sins through lust. That’s the problem! Charlie you dope! What else is there? “A general prayer” Okay that can work….uhm Rati? Ganesh? Ignore that last prayer thing will ya?  Do over…okay here goes “O gods! All your names [and forms] are to be revered, saluted, and adored.” Especially you Ganesh and uh Rati because I actually know your names but that’s not the only reason…“All of you who have sprung from heaven, and earth, listen here to my invocation.” I uh humbly ask a favor of you any of you….I need a man…I’m tired of being alone…of my mom asking when I‘m going  to bring home a husband…of friends telling me I‘m not a third wheel…of being a third wheel…of it all…I know I’m not much but I can make a man happy….I know I can. So I beg you to help me get a man….preferably Adam from work but I won’t be picky…I want a man…I want to be held…to be touched…Please help me and send me the right one….actually anyone if they’ll Just stick around….I offer you rice. I offer you my adoration and my dedication.
I thank you--

The phone rings.

 Joann:
No way! No way.

The phone continues to ring. She picks it up.
 
Joann(to audience):
It worked? (into phone): Hello! Oh hey Charlie. Nothing. I mean it. Nothing is the matter. What’s up? Oh cool. Yeah we should go out and celebrate it. Tonight? Oh no not tonight. I don’t feel like it tonight. Nothing is wrong. Trust me. Yeah I just got finished doing it a minute before you called...seconds even…yeah I suppose you have nice timing. You can’t pick Hindu prayers though. A prayer to expiate sins committed through lust? Yeah nice pick dork….You bet your gonna make it up to me. You can make it up to me with dinner…just not tonight. I know you want to hear about it. I know. I’ll tell you tomorrow. No I don’t care where we’d be going. I just feel like staying home and eating a crappy microwave dinner with my sad sad self is all. That too much to ask? Charlie! (Laughs) No! (Laughs) Why would you show up her naked? No! You better not (Laughs) Fine. Fine. Keep your clothe on. I don’t need to shower…had to purify myself remember. Very funny. See ya there sweetie.

I met her in July.
Slightly intoxicated
we danced the dance
of the familiar. The old souls
brought together in Capri pants.

She threw a high heel at the bus.
Huffed as it fell off target. The other one a red badge
hung in her hand.
I stared.
It dropped hard a bright intruder on the browned grass.
An act of aggression or frustration I wondered.
“They weren’t mine.” she smiled.

The leaves rustled around our feet.
Flinty-eyed she held my gaze
turned to her feet in the awkwardness at hand
Nice sandals. It was the only thing I could think of.
She curtsied with a grace lost
amongst the cracked sidewalk and ticketed cars

Ignored our moment. She paused mid step
to shift her dress. A soft lacey pink
I pictured her panties. Hidden somewhere beneath her
pompous blue gown. A car honked.
She twisted violently toward the culprit
already gone missed the top of her dress slide down.
An up and down gesture quicker than I could react.

Bell of the ball I asked. A wink and another curtsy
punctuated by a lust filled grind was the only answer.
I saw us mangled between sweaty sheets.
Push gives to pull. I would tear her gown.
She teetered.
I slid my bag to the ground. Swept the bench and flashed
My best game show host smile. It was too toothy. My lips were chapped.
I blew it.
I wanted her.
“You have twenty buck?”
I blinked.
She bent toward me. The top of her breast peeked out of her dress
already ripped. “I’ll yank your jimmy for twenty bucks.”
Two or three more blinks before she walked off.

She talked nonstop. The four of us sat
legs crossed as we sipped rum straight from the bottle.
Why do I always get the ugly one? I’d ask him sometime.

We paired up about twenty minutes ago
she started talking and  hadn’t slowed yet.
when the rest of the party left us to move on to the next spot.

It was 2:30 maybe 3 am. The pot all
smoked long before we ran out of the good vodka.
Freddy found the rum behind a couch. Dusted it off
and pointed the head at Jenna who was waxing
about her tour of Europe. I settled in behind the ugly one.

This was the way it always was. She was breathing heavy
already. “Do I make you nervous fatty?” I wanted to yell.
I moved in close. Her hair smelled like bubble gum. I was going to fuck her
hard. To teach her a lesson for being the ugly one.

I watched Freddy do the things I should’ve been
pulling her shirt up pinching her big tits.
“At least you have some fat ones.” I said.
She gasped an tried to move away. She would cry now.
I held on tight.

In between necking he’d take a swig of rum or ask “do you ever shut up?”
Which she took in stride each and every time. She was nice enough  
my girl that is. I nuzzled  the back of her neck until she giggled.
“Can I kiss you?” I whispered.

“I know lets all go to melt” she turned toward me. I hated her.
I hated her soft wet blue eyes. I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.
“Why do you have to be so fat?”

tears no longer threatened.
But now they quietly spilled down her red cheeks.
I thought about wiping them softly away.
Instead I buried my hand in her hair and kissed her
tears wet my face. Lips gave way.
She tasted like brownies and cheap rum.

A sweet strangely sticky punch that woke me.
I kissed her feverishly
she let me.  I bit her neck roughly
smacked her thighs
parted for me.

“Were chasing sunrises” she moaned.
A shiver passed through her body.
 I paused my hand between her legs
to let the poetry sink in
the corner I saw Freddy slide into Jenna
still talking about something or other.
Maybe I was the ugly one after all.

Here is another installment of the finished for now play titled Docket #

Enjoy and for any of you who would like to read the finished product (about 30 pages right now) let me know

 

 

(The bailiff goes off.)

 

Defendant:

Bravo! Bravo! I hope you all know that did me no harm. It was rather funny actually. I mean like anyone who watched this wouldn't be rolling on the floor with laughter. Hallelujah it's filled me with hope. It proves this is nothing more than a joke…a prank…sham…a flim flam…when does he slip on the bananna peel?

 

Prosecutor:

Very cute speech, who does write for you? Anyway your honor I believe we are ready for the next witness.

 

Lawyer:

Oh…ok…uhm a Guy Rogers.

 

Defendant:

What let me guess he's gonna come back in with a cap and coat?

 

(Bailiff strides in with a cap and coat over his uniform.)

 

 

Defendant:

I knew it.

 

Prosecutor:

Pay her no mind. Are you Guy Rogers?

 

Bailiff:

Yes I am.

 

Prosecutor:

And what was your initial relationship with the defendant?

 

Bailiff:

Well I was her first real boss at the National Independent paper. For almost three years.

 

Prosecutor:

Yes and how was that? How was she as an employee?

 

Defendant:

Oh well at first she was a great employee. Nice.

 

 

Prosecutor:

And then?

 

Bailiff:

And then well it turned rough.  She began pushing her own stories and ignoring what I told her to do.

 

Prosecutor:

I see. I see. What were those stories?

 

Bailiff:

All sorts of things. Always trying to slant it to favor  some unwed mother or poor victim.

 

Prosecutor:

Baffling, and so did your professional relationship ever go any further than that?

 

Defendant (to her lawyer):

I screwed him a few times and he never stopped bragging.

 

Lawyer:

Interesting.

 

Prosecutor:

Very and can you elaborate Mr. Rogers?

 

Bailiff:

Well yes after she courted me several times I broke down and gave in--

 

Defendant:

Pleaseeee-

 

Bailiff:

I thought she was the one but when it happened her work went down hill.

 

Prosecutor:

How?

 

Bailiff:

Well as I said earlier she began refusing her assignments and she'd come late more often. Another thing is she'd park in my parking space blatantly--

 

Defendant (to lawyer):

He was in the car with me, hell it was his car! This is getting ridiculous.

 

Prosecutor:

And when she got pregnant?

 

Bailiff:

I tried to get her to take time off but she refused. I mean utterly refused.

 

Defendant:

That's my right to--

 

 

Lawyer:

I'll look that up and get back to you.

 

Prosecutor:

And was it yours?

 

Bailiff:

Part of me thinks so but who knows with her.

 

Prosecutor:

Were you surprised that she lost it?

 

Defendant:

Just stop--

 

Bailiff:

Not really. I mean she never rested, and I mean ever.

 

Prosecutor:

And  was the loss her fault?

 

Bailiff:

Well--

 

Defendant:

LA LA LA LA LA I won't hear this anymore. LA LA LA LA LA

 

Prosecutor:

I think it will be best if we continue this later.

 

(The bailiff leaves and she finally stops.)