Junkbowl

Occupied (aside)

rinks — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 17:57:51 +0000

So I’ve got school going on, which has effectively drained my free time, and I’ve started a new screenplay, so I’m going to (still) be away for a bit.

Revenant

rinks — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 07:25:36 +0000

La Brea

rinks — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 06:08:36 +0000

Three mammoths, two adults and one child. One of the adults and the child on the bank of the tar pit, the other neck deep in black ooze, it’s trunk extended upward, mouth opened, eyes rolled back to the sky. The pair on the land extended their trunks back like traigically short lengths of rope, expressions of horror on their faces. It was a weird thing to see, this vignette of million-year-old suffering done up in Disney-like melodrama. I was glad I hadn’t seen it as a kid, considering how unsettling I found it as an adult.

Fair

rinks — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 02:43:27 +0000

The prizes, uniformally total crap, were hanging precariously on the wall, away from the balloons and stacks of bottles and baskets with springs hidden in the bottom. 8×11 glossy photocopies in cheap frames of: wrestling stars, confederate flags, varieties of whisky and beer, breasts, cars and trucks; higher up, bootlegged t-shirts: all forms of lazy double entendre and puns that don’t really work, illustrated with cartoon rednecks.

Exhibits

rinks — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 22:49:45 +0000

Items Seized from the Apartment building of Roccio Delevine and Labeled as Evidence in Italy’s “Trial of the Century”

A: Two (2) one-way tickets to Vancouver, Canada in the names of Rocco Scalini and Antony Milar

B: One (1) partially emptied bottle of 1997 Chateau Montegna Chardonnay

C: Three (3) mouthless skiing masks of assorted colors (Red, Green, Blue) found in paper shopping bag in dumpster

D: One (1) Hermes leather satchel

E: One (1) MiniDV cartridge contained in one (1) addressed envelope, bubble-wrapped interior, with postage attached

F: Four (4) casings of .9mm ammunition rounds

G: One (1) sword of Oriental origin

H: One (1) bag of approximately .9 KG containing illicit powdered substance

I: One (1) receipt for purchase of airline tickets, charged to Visa card of Lisa Puccella for total amount of 2,137 USD.

J: One (1) Lenovo ThinkPad laptop computer (damaged)

K: One (1) section of (3) feet nylon cord

L: One (1) partially used roll of silver duct tape

M: One (1) Sony portable television (partially damaged)

N: Seven (7) diamonds of sizes ranging from 1.8 to 2.5 carats

O: Seven (7) cubic zirconias ranging from 1.8 to 2.5 carats

P: One (1) Iridium Satellite portable phone

Q: One (1) handwritten letter from U.S. Ambassador Carl Rutledge

Aphid

rinks — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 07:50:31 +0000

The Great Green War began in the summer, in the Eastern Reaches (known to the giants as the lettuce patch). It was a brutal war of attrition, an orgy of violence and battle that resulted in thousands dead and hundreds of thousands of legs rendered useless.

Sighting

rinks — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 21:25:29 +0000

I ran into Brady Cole today, one of my first celebrity sightings of the summer. It was outside of a Pinkberry on Melrose, me and Stacy were waiting in line, and it was hot as hell out. I heard a voice behind us mutter “excuse me” as he bumped into Stacy, after she said “THE HELL?”. Turned around and saw him, standing right there. The first thing that struck me was how short he was. I’m 5’11, and I could see clear over the top of his head. He was handsome enough, but he looked disheveled- beyond the fasionable hipster disheveled; like, genuinely so. Stacy recognized him too, and said “oh, shit- I’m sorry”. He was behind aviator mirror glasses, three days growth on his face, clothes wrinkled. He just nodded his head and muttered something about the line to the girl who was with him, some girl with bright pink hair who looked maybe a day over eighteen, if that.

He sniffed and rubbed his chin, and she popped a big green bubble of gum. Stacy and I exchanged a glance, I urged her to say something with my eyes. She did.

“You were awesome in Dark Crossing,” was what came out. The two of them just stared at us for a second.

“Oh, thank you.” Sniff. “Really great people on that film, top notch.”

“That scene where you’re just pacing in that room was very intense.”

The girl with him rolled her eyes and took out her iPhone. Tap tap tap tap.

“Yeah, pretty emotional stuff. Very.”

We’d seen Dark Crossing, the recent sex trafficking movie that was pretty much raped by critics as “torture porn”. He was okay in it, if a bit out of his depth. Better suited for TV, but that was his “breakout thing” I guess. I’d read on TMZ that he’d slept with a co-star (maybe the girl with him, couldn’t tell), and that Kate had found out and left him. She’d given a very nasty interview with Vanity Fair the week before the movie came out, which didn’t help matters much.

A couple other people recognized him, muttered to their companions (most of which couldn’t place him, I don’t think). We gave up waiting when the line hadn’t moved in fifteen minutes and headed over to the Korean yogurt ripoff across the street.

Quarantine

rinks — Sat, 31 May 2008 05:49:17 +0000

The floor was a hard, cold ceramic tile, sturdy enough to withstand a human head smacking into it from a five foot nine inch height. There was a dull, sick SMACK and the gasp of a forced exhalation as Patient 8 did just that, and that was the last sound he made.

Two others in the room, Patients 5 and 9, stood trembling against the wall.

Charlie

rinks — Wed, 28 May 2008 20:37:13 +0000

Charlie was moping in the kitchen, dejectedly making a sandwich, if such a thing is possible. He knocked his glass over, sending ice and flat coca-cola all over the table, and almost burst into tears right then and there. It was pretty bad. He mopped up the mess with a handful of paper towels, washed the sticky off his hands, refilled the glass with the last of the coke and tossed the empty bottle into the sink. It bounced off the divider in the center and onto the floor, where it rolled against the table leg.

He took a bite of the sandwich, though he wasn’t hungry at all and was trying to make himself so through sheer force of will. He hadn’t eaten breakfast. Or lunch. Or anything. Five minutes and two more bites later and he was on the phone, pacing, saying

“No, I don’t think so. I mean,” he picked up his sandwich and tossed it to the dog, who gobbled it down greedily, “I mean, you don’t think so. Do you?”

He frowned and rubbed his head.

“Well no, that’s what everyone has been telling me. So I guess that’s, you know, I guess that’s what the deal is. I thought maybe it was just a thing, because it can happen, it does happen, sometimes, like with you and Kate. That was kind of the same deal.”

He listened.

“But I mean couldn’t it be? It’s not like it’s impossible, right? Strange shit happens, people do things and they change their minds or, you know, when they think about it later they–”

Walt woofed. Charlie headed for the patio and almost broke his neck slipping on the coke bottle that had rolled back across the kitchen floor– “FUCK”,

“No, Walt almost… I’m fine.” He slid open the glass door to the patio and went outside, grabbing a cigarette from the pack sitting on the railing, “So I get it. There’s nothing to think about, I can’t do anything, I can’t make a decision about anything or whatever, and shit happens, and it happened, and its over. I know its over. That’s what you think, right?”

Pause.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone thinks I guess, which is kind of fucked up in and of itself, because when it’s other people and they ask me things like that I leave at least, like, a little room for doubt, but whatever.”

Aside on May 27th

rinks — Tue, 27 May 2008 17:32:56 +0000

Back from the three day memorial weekend. I didn’t do any memorializing, but it was a pleasant enough weekend even with the fiasco that was Indy 4 and the sad and not suprising news that the family dog, Molly, aged 14-15 years, died. She was a good pup. Anyway, that’s the 3 day absence, and here we are.