The Big “L” – 1/12

loser

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more distraught during the writing of a post. I don’t know that I’ve ever sat down and written feeling so helplessly frustrated.

Yesterday was a failure. An enormous failure. A huge, whopping, capital “L”.

The day began great, with big plans and lofty ambitions. Everything was set and ready, the props were in order, and I even purchased a knock-off “selfie-stick” to help with coverage(Just Leasing was to be filmed on my phone camera, you see).

A few hours into filming, I locked my phone into place on a cheap tripod that is built for such a purpose. The mount simultaneously pressed and held 3 buttons on the side of my phone that led to a full system reset. Not only did I lose all my contacts and settings, but the footage was immediately washed.

It gets worse.

We came close to shooting the scenes over, but doubt entered the minds of the actors, perhaps with good reason – there was an arguably noticeable error in logic for a crucial scene, and tinkering with it affects the rest of the episode.

A long enough discussion led to an inevitable decision to postpone filming until a later date. We broke for lunch at a local taco shop. I brought in my laptop to show Jordan and Catrina, who are also involved in Cheaters Prosper, some of the scenes.

I store the footage on an external, 3 terabyte hard drive that attaches to my computer by a USB chord. When I finally found a particular scene I wanted to show, the external hard drive fell off the table and smacked a metal piece beside my seat, breaking it instantly. I am no longer able to access the hard drive, and it makes a clicking sound when I plug it in.

I can’t tell you how upset I am. I can’t even pinpoint what I am most upset about. The good news is, even if the data from my brand new $139 hard drive is irretrievable, we will only have lost about 5 pages of film, as my brother and friend still have saved copies of the remaining footage.

I don’t believe in blind persistence. I don’t believe in trying to make something work that cannot, nor do I believe in trying to do something you are incapable of doing. I do not like to waste time. I do not like to lose.

But when I deem a pursuit worthy of fighting for, I fucking fight.

So what is the lesson learned today? What is the meaning of all this?

The lesson is simple. Today was a shitty day. Bad things happened. For Spiritual reasons? For failing to be more conscious of sensitive equipment? For no reason?

You will never learn by focusing the factors that led to failure. If you want to be a critic, a hater, or another captain hindsight, go ahead and focus on the aspects of things that influence demise. But in order to find success, you must keep your eyes the actions that breed it.

Verizon saves texts message conversations in cloud storage, and I was able to retrieve the phone numbers of every person I’ve conversed with over the last 90 days. That is sufficient to store the numbers of every person whom I consider an essential part of my life.

There are specialists who have the technology to retrieve data from damaged hard drives. For an external one such as my own, the customer must pay a pretty penny ($500 is a good estimate). Perhaps the company that manufactured my hard drive may be able to help me for a nominal fee.

Or, we could always re-shoot. The actors have their lines down pat, and the only difficulty would be getting the actors to do the 4-5 hour shoot all over again. It would move faster than before thanks to having gone through it once already.

I guess my point is this – you can’t just fold once things go wrong. You can’t allow harsh critiques of your work to convince you’re not cut out for writing. When things go wrong, you must seek out ways to fix them. Errors happen, and they’re part of any game.

I’m afraid to take my next step forward, but in the walk of life the only other option is to retreat. I’m not going to retreat, and I’m not going to stop. I’m going to run until I reach that Goddamn finish line, and if I have to crawl by the time I get there, so be it.

  • Thomas M. Watt

Here Comes Next Stage

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Tempers flare here comes frustration Writers Conference Registration,

Hope I didn’t just waste this year hope I make connections here.

Hope to lay my cards to table hope to interest them in fables.

Tired of these sleepless nights tired of my write sight.

Need to get away from here move to next task a different gear.

Much too long in isolation far too long with no consolation.

Time to make a dime or two a penny or a thousand few.

Let’s get me somewhere find a name move on from here and too next stage.

Sorry fellows but I’ve been thinking, without a fan my work is sinking.

– Thomas M. Watt

The Heart is Shown

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Days pass to nights from nights come new days all the while all the time always growing always age.

Bodies die they decay disappear as souls go stray.

Stomach turning hunger lots foods not cheap what have you got.

Always trying always stressed always striving feel my chest.

It don’t stop beating never does nor do the words that speak to us.

What to say what to hear what to know what to fear.

Days are numbered are they not what good does earth do if it will rot.

Or to roam and fuck a lot find a girl pick a spot make her laugh make her grin get her hot then enter in.

Oops I said that woops I did, well oh well my mood is grim I’m so tired of working hard five hours passed like blah blah blah.

Edit now edit later unless it’s published fuck this paper.

What to say what to do what to think always new never stops my mind it doesn’t, ideas appear like fire coming.

Yada-yada, doodle doo, what’s my structure? It’s this, ‘Fuck you.’

No not the reader apologies I’m speaking of the thought police those who say that there are rules for they’re all wrong I’ll prove it to you.

Find an art of any kind show me rules I’ll show you mine – All that matters for how art goes it what does happen when beings suppose to feel a thing a thought or two, to be projected the thoughts of you.

Oh my goodness don’t you see tell me please it’s not just me, there are no rules no none at all the only thing is reader’s call for what you read if it don’t speak to the one who’s listening you’ve failed a lot you’ve failed it all for all that art is is your heart shown.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Violent Disturbance – Part One

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Gary blew through the front door. He knocked the tall lamp over on his way in.

“Dammit!” He screamed.

He picked up the lamp and swung it against the wall. The white light bulb exploded into bits. He brought it overhead, then slammed it repeatedly into the carpet. Gary tossed the lamp aside.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Asked his wife, Jessica. She was wearing an apron and baking mitts in the kitchen.

Gary stormed into the kitchen, shoved her aside, then heaved open the upper kitchen cabinets.

“Where’s the vodka. Where’s the vodka. Where the FUCK is the FUCKING vodka?”

Jessica put a hand to her chest and backed away towards the kitchen counter. “Honey, you’re scaring me. Please just calm down and tell me what is going on.”

Gary began throwing items from the cabinet out recklessly. A big jug of Folgers coffee beans spilled out onto the floor, followed by two soup cans. A mouse trap clipped his fingers.

“Fuck!” He yelled. He flapped his hand out, but the trap did not release.

Jessica came over to him. “Honey, calm down, let me help you.”

Gary turned his back to her, un-clipped the trap himself, then threw it full speed at the window. A crack sprouted in the glass.

Jessica forced her hands to his cheeks, and turned his head so that he faced her directly. “Honey. Breath. Please just breath.”

Gary threw her hands off, then rushed off to the sofa couch in the living room. He sat down, then rubbed his hands up and down the back of his head. He began shaking forward and back.

Jessica walked over, then sat down some distance removed. “Babe? Will you please just talk to me?”

Gary sat upright, hands to his knees, and began fuming through his nostrils.

Jessica moved next to him, then sat at his side. She took his hand in hers. “Babe? Are you alright?”

Gary shook his head. He stood up, approached the fireplace mantel, then picked up the fire poke. He took it, then stormed through the kitchen and out the house, walking hurriedly with the iron piece outside.

– Thomas M. Watt