what will you see?

I haven’t seen you in 15 years.
To think. I bet you look exactly the same.
I find myself slipping back into a daughter role, aching for her father’s attention and approval.

Oh, approval.
God, I wish I was… I was… so much more.
I want to impress you.
To be a statue, shining its significance into your daily brain.
Like a quality stamp not worth much but in a book.
Permanent (which nothing is), all powerful (we all know everything has cracks).

What will you see?
What will you say of me?
What will you want from me?
How will I be?

what do you see?

I feel shame.
Weird, why the fuck shame?
Shame and guilt?
If only I could be something more.
Socially powerful. Socially revered.

What will you see?
What will you say of me?
What will you want from me?
How will I be?

Stupid. He knows this takes time.
Well, not for her and him and her and him?
Things came nimbly, things came quick.
Stop it.
He gets it.

What will you see?
What will you say of me?
What will you want from me?
How will I be?

 

loose yourself

Loose Yourself, Hafiz

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new water-mark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.

Greet Yourself
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
Chatting

While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
You.

Hafiz

who cares

Who gives a fuck?
What for?
What experience do you seek?
It’s been too long.
There’s a gap.
You’re on the other side of it.

Really? Why?
Move on.
You’re late.
You never arrived.
Everything everyone says is true.
Listen to them.

Stop while you’re ahead.
The market is saturated.
Oh my god, there you go again.
Let it go.
That’s not you.

It was a stupid idea, anyway.
It didn’t have legs.
You’re not ready.
That someone else’s idea, that’s already happened.

Forgot that shit, let’s do something fun.
Let’s go out.
Let’s go get a drink.
I wanna binge watch that show.
You have to come with me.
This is better.

how it comes out

on writing Alex Dinelaris
“Writing doesn’t come easy to me. I don’t know what all these other writers are talking about, “Oh, I have this routine or that.” For me, it’s a painful existence. I start with structure. Structure, structure, structure. And then it’s torture for the rest of the time. I wait to the last minute to get things done, the final day, the final hour. It’s awful. When something comes to me I start vacuuming. My wife sees me and thinks, ‘Oh, good, an idea is forming.’
I go to Puerto Rico, rent a hut – and I mean a hut, where there’s nothing. No computers, no internet, no nothing. Where I’m forced to write. It’s eat, shit and write. And that’s where it gets birthed and a first draft is born.”
__
Alexander Dinelaris, writer of Birdman

0 to 60

FADE IN:  two at a coffee shop in front of computers.

She: He said it.

He: He said 0 to 60?

She: Yup.

He: Success came, like, 0 to 60?

She nods energetically. 

She: I think it’s inspirational, you know.

He looks off.

She: Like, it can happen to any of us.

He: I mean…the word ‘preparation’ is coming to mind.

She: You think he was prepared for what was in store?

He looks off.

She: Like. No one is fully–

He: Luck?

She: Stop rationalizing it. Zero to 60 is a great thing, and it happens to someone every day and this time, it’s happening to someone we know. Right here, right now.

He: Yeah…

She: That means it’s doable.

He: Ok.

She: God, your stubborn. Now, finish your sandwich and let’s get on with it.

He nods. 

ball of rubber bands

A group:

“I’m exhausting. I have so much I want to do with my life, it kind of chokes me and then it’s like, I don’t want to even get off the couch.”

“I can’t sleep at night. My mind races on how fast time has gone and the little I’ve accomplished.”

“My goals are simple but they are a lot! If only I had a team of people helping me.”

“How do I pay the rent and do what I love? I’m so tired at the end of the day that the idea of ‘creating’ thereafter makes me want to curl up in a ball and sleep. Or drink wine.”

“I don’t know how to begin. I feel like there’s too much to do and I don’t know how to start. It’s like a ball of rubber bands I need to untangle one by one.”

“It’s not what I want to do.”

“I’m doing this to supplement money, to make a kind of soft income for the future. But it’s taking so long to get off the ground that I’m not creating anymore.”

“It’s like to be an entrepreneur you have to master the areas of your life you can’t hire yet.”

“I have the best of intentions in the morning and then that all washes away by the afternoon.”

Our minds are a powerful thing.
Do more to get more, it says.
Not really. Not at all.
Here’s where the trust comes in.

What if you’re exactly where you’re meant to be?
That you’re right on time, right on schedule?
That the only thing that’s lacking is trust…

What does trust mean to YOU?

 

 

stick to the weather

FADE IN: inside a Lyft car.

She: I’ve never heard of Downey.

He: It’s South-West from there.

She: Uh-huh. How long have you been there?

He: We moved 17 years ago.

She: Oh, you bought a house.

He: No we rent.

He: It’s quiet over there.

She: Ohsure, I’m sure it is.

He: How long have you been in Santa Monica?

She: A year.

He: And before that?

She: I’m from Houston. You?

He: Born and raised in this neighborhood, but we got priced out. Same ol’ story.

She giggles nervously.

She: What’s with this rain, huh?

He: Yeah.

FADE OUT.