Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

COMEBACK : 3 entries found (submission to Longshot Mag)

Last Friday, my good friend and fellow event producer extraordinaire wrote me an email. It was brief. "i really think you should submit something to this...longshotmag.com"

My submission to the new magazine, which is written, edited and printed within 48 hours, was not brief. Though it didn't make it into the print edition (tear), and is not the polished piece of literature I'd generally like to share due to Longshot's 24 hour submission deadline, I figured 'why deprive the world of these 1000 words related to the issue's theme: COMEBACK.' And so, here it is--just as it was submitted to Longshot.

And P.S. Please do be sure to support Longshot. Find Issue 1 here.

COMEBACK : 3 entries found

Come.back.

1. : A sharp retort.

Derek lacked the social graces that get most people through their daily exposure to other humans. If someone, for instance, was in an elevator with Derek and felt compelled by the silence to ask him ‘how’s the weather today?’ Derek might respond ‘You were just outside. Did you exit the building in a giant, weatherproof bubble or are you just an idiot?” Derek didn’t understand the point of small talk or niceties. He didn’t get that telling someone she looked nice wasn’t just a reiteration of what “she should have been able to see herself if she owned a mirror,” but one of those ‘things’ you say to people who expect you, from time to time, to say something pleasant and uplifting. And so it was that Derek remained, more often than not, single.

In the Spring of the same year that Derek had spent the entire Winter reading ‘Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus’ in the hopes of maintaining a relationship for more than a single evening, Derek met a woman. Veronica was lovely and patient and had recently lowered her standards. And Derek, fresh off his read and smitten with Veronica’s shapely physique, thought he might apply his new understanding of women and court her.

“I like you,” he told her one day, though he could not imagine that his constant efforts to undo her blouse had not indicated just that many times over. And Veronica, so impressed by Derek’s expression of sentiment, became prematurely excited and replied, “I like you too Derek. I like you so, so much. Your dark eyes. Your brooding expression. Your non-ironic undertaking of the emo lifestyle. Do you mean that you might be interested in taking things between us a step further?” For which Derek was not prepared with an answer from his recent read.

“Next step? I don’t understand. Is that code in Venus for taking our clothes off and moving to the bedroom? That would be great as I’ve got dinner plans at 8 and am on a bit of a tight schedule.”

To which Veronica had absolutely nothing to say. But then she did.

“Goodbye, Derek. And, in case you’re unclear, in Venus, ‘goodbye’ is code for ‘you need serious counseling and to revisit childhood trauma that has made you the totally insane, detached and sad man you are today.’”

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

If you can't learn, at least you can laugh. The small good that came from last night's 826LA panel.

Last night I attended 826LA's Adult Writing Seminar on Comedy Writing. Did I get a whole lot out of the panel? Possibly not. You get that many egos in a room together who presume that they're just hilaaaarious, it's bound to turn into a panel about who likes the sound of their own voice best. But between wisecracking and a very few sound-bytes of actual advice (including treating ones parents like they're dead and writing below your intelligence level), I did have an opportunity to appreciate panelist Bob Odenkirk's dry wit. He was, undoubtedly, the most amusing on the panel and one couldn't help but to feel slightly inspired by him even if he didn't actually say anything inspiring...per say.

Here, Odenkirk's webisode which was screened at the panel. Enjoy.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Finding zen amidst a sea of slow-ass bitches.


I was going to write about the assh*les driving on the streets of Los Angeles tonight as I returned from my afternoon writing class. About the man at the crowded gas station in Koreatown who slowly cleaned his car windows as I waited to take his place, though his tank had finished filling. About the woman in my class who speaks at a rate so slow that my brain cannot process the meaning of her words, and does so [I believe] in an attempt to seem 'deep.'

But instead, I want to breathe and let it all go. I want to remember the clouds today as they drifted through the sky after the rain, revealing a stunningly blue sky. I want to recall the shadows of pink that hovered above the skyline as the sun was setting this evening as I drove home on the 10. *

* Please note: taking pictures out of one's car window on the freeway is not safe, nor advisable, nor should it be attempted at home. Um, yeah, lesson learned.


Photos: Taken on Jessie B. R.'s Crackberry, 12:45 p and 5:45 p respectively