General Update

I know I began a short story last week, and I intend to continue that as soon as possible. But today I just wanted to provide a brief update.

I’ve spoken here often about improving my own time management. I am constantly working on something, but different projects require different amounts of time. For instance, editing a film, mastering a song, or molding a story are tasks that can be done in a day or a year. A great example that demonstrates this trend is the song that I’ve been working on for the past month. No matter how much I try to recreate the emotion through synthetic instruments on Ableton it has not matched the emotional impact it provided when I first played it on acoustic. I have to practice the song on a real guitar, stay true to the tempo, and learn the same chord progression in the key of Bb major. All the work I’ve put in through Ableton has been wasted, though I have created some unique synthesizers in the process.

Regardless of your aim in the world of creativity, a simple step back allows you to view the reality of accomplishing your goals. I fundamentally disagree with the longing to “get discovered”. Carving out a sustainable career is a result of a relentless effort to master the skills required for a specific profession. Eminem constantly references Dr. Dre for discovering him and exploding his career. Though he no doubt became a breakthrough artist thanks to Dr. Dre, Eminem was the one honed the skills that unlocked his meteoric rise. He needed a platform for what he was selling – but the product was already top quality.

I am trying to quantify the steps that I must take to produce a feature length film that will prove a profitable undertaking. Whether that means making more short films, knocking on doors, or building a large online following, I am game. I am certain I must have a completed script before I can be taken seriously in any avenue. Before that is completed, however, I am attempting to identify daily habits that will continuously bring me closer to my goal.

The two most obvious are daily writing/research specific to the story I am developing. The second obvious step is to educate myself on film financing.

I love wordpress and the audience that I can reach. It is the one task I can complete while I am at work. I also intend to return to creating youtube videos, but I need a more regimented system. Oftentimes I will write a script in a day, film it the following day, then require 2 weeks to edit all of the footage and music together. I’m considering creating videos where the focus is scene analysis on films that I’ve enjoyed. I feel I can come out with one of these each week. The most important aspect of creating youtube videos would be to dedicate no more than 30 minutes each day over the course of a week to create the video.

I am still waiting to find my film “Doctor with the Red Houseware” on Xumo. Once it is featured I will be happy to advertise it. As it stands, I have not released the film for free viewing on youtube. This week I am going to take steps to market the film again and set up for a free release online. I can do this by posting regularly to instagram and creating videos detailing the struggles encountered throughout the production process.

Anyways, hope all is well and to write again tomorrow. I do intend on further exploring the short story I began. It is a story I loved and one that I would consider producing. Because I have many ideas that I love I realize in my lifetime I will be unable to tell them all unless I sacrifice a little of the production quality in order to simply tell them. Have a good day.

Doctor with the Red Houseware – Update

Official Poster for Doctor with the Red Houseware

I’m beyond thrilled to announce Doctor with the Red Houseware – the short film I wrote and directed – has been selected by “Xumo” with the opportunity to reach televisions worldwide. Xumo is a streaming service that is readily available across a variety of devices. If you have a Samsung TV and no cable, it is more than likely the host of television channels that will start playing automatically once you exit Netflix. Though it has been selected, I will celebrate with much more alcohol when it is officially featured and available for viewing.

Xumo is a free streaming service with thousands of movies and over 190 channels of streaming content. It is available in the United States, Canada, France, Germany, the UK, Italy, Spain, Brazil, and Mexico.

I find myself overwhelmed by time. I work 12 hour shifts 3-4 days per week. I have one day off per week with my girlfriend where we watch movies and order pizza. When I am not working I am creating something. Currently I am developing a song that I love.

I have never looked for a job in the film industry but have decided to begin my search following completion of this song. Spending so much time at a job that is unrelated to my areas of interests seems misguided and wasteful. I would love nothing more than to begin work on a feature length script, yet I feel burdened by worry that such an undertaking will be wasteful. If I take the time to write a script I will make damn sure it gets produced. In order to produce a feature length script I am dependent on money that is not in my possession.

The benefits of working in the industry would be numerous as would the drawbacks. For one, I anticipate regular pay for consistent work is difficult to come by. I feel that working as a sound engineer or mixer could perhaps be the most promising, despite my first love of writing. I am concerned jobs of that sort require a degree in the audio production as they deal with the most technical & mathematical aspects of filmmaking. For instance, mixing for a theatrical release requires much more specific sound assignments then a 2.0 stereo mix. I am confident I can mix in surround but until I have a setup at my disposal I cannot prove that.

These are just some of my thoughts as I am, as always, pressed for time. Today I will work further on the song, tomorrow I will see my girlfriend, and the following day it’s back to work. Happy Easter and God Bless.

Series Recap & Wasted Time

A week ago I set out to submit my kickstarter campaign for review. I wanted to have a link to the pre-launch page as soon as possible. I thought it would be a good idea to use a “series recap” video so that potential backers could rapidly familiarize themselves with the show’s core concepts.

I figured I better make a new series recap video that includes portions of episode 4. But then I realized that I talk about how I make all the music myself on the campaign info page… so I needed to make a new song as well.

From there I realized that ableton live was pretty limited in the synths they offer. I initially hoped to make a sort of dubstep beat. But to do that I would need a plug-in to create my own synths… so I researched then purchased one.

Next I had to figure out how to use the plug in to create satisfying sounds. I wound up creating a pluck and synth that I’m ok with. I’m very excited to learn more about the plug-in soon.

Long story short, I just wasted a week making a song for a new series recap video all because of that nagging idea I needed a one. I’m pretty disappointed with myself since I’ve been determined to improve my time efficiency. Anyways, the stupid video is below if you’d like to see a visual & audio representation of pissing days away.

Marketing for the Soul

I remade the video I previously spoke about and hope to post it either today or tomorrow. So far the video looks great and the audio sounds crisps. It does not appear unprofessional and I’m excited to edit the material. I have also emailed one of the actors a copy of the current script and am excited to receive her feedback this afternoon.

It’s easy to become bogged down when we monitor trends in art, music, and fiction. When you involve yourself in these industries you see first hand just how much “success” and “fame” are used interchangeably. There is always a craft involved in performance and it can feel disheartening to see how much marketing plays a role. A major idea that comes to mind for me is ghost-writing – when a celebrity or musician employs another person to write their material for them without receiving the credit. The “big name” will draw the audience, the ghost writer will keep them in their seats.

It’s important to know why your medium of choice appeals to you. If fame is your ultimate goal then their are far simpler avenues to “success”. Come out with some controversial opinions and your personality will be more widely recognized. Appeal to the lower nature – or vices – of man and you will broaden your audience. I recently heard someone state that the music industry had at some point transformed to push songs for people who hate music and I can’t stop thinking about that. In the early 2000’s there was an influx of reality show television. There is currently a show called “The Masked Singer” about celebrities dressed in mascot-type costumes while the audience (or judges?) try to guess who they are. Shows such as this cause me to view an alien invasion from a fresh perspective.

Only we, the artists, get to decide how we approach and deliver our material. There are endless formulas, trends, and market research that can guide the choices we make. Ultimately, it’s up to us to decide which shape we would like to take. When I think of the persons and things that interest me I find I have an eclectic mix of influences that are marked more by their distinctiveness then by their adherence to a common structure. The appeal to mass audiences doesn’t weigh on my reception of them. The appeal to my own individual beliefs and values, however, does.

As I begin editing my short, meaningless video today I keep all of these thoughts in mind. On the one hand I am creating the videos in order to expand my audience – so it is admittedly a form of marketing. But I refuse to create videos with the cliche appearance of so many other YouTube style Vlogs. There is no “golden rule” that requires me to make a thumbnail where I smile like a dumbass and point my thumb at a yoyo in a toaster. There is no necessity for me to ask the audience to “punch that like button.”

I can make the video any way in which I damn well please. The end result will be a reflection of myself, my values, and my abilities as a creator. This understanding enables me to export videos for marketing purposes without selling out my love of meaningful production.

In simpler terms, I’m making another short youtube video.

Have a great day and may the creative fire ignite your spirit.

Translation of the Intuition

One of the most captivating stories about art for me has always been a short monologue from the television show Lost. In fact, it was after watching this show that I decided I wanted to become a writer myself. The story comes from Season 1, Episode 13:

In summary, the character of John Locke informs another character that the artist Michelangelo would regularly contemplate the art piece he was going to create before he ever began his work.

Now I cannot verify the authenticity of this story, but I can tell you I spent some time in my younger days reading the journals of Michelangelo and he regularly spoke about interpreting the intuition correctly. He used a different, beautiful word to describe it, but I can’t seem to find that specific word anywhere else today.

I once heard a phrase at a writers convention used to describe the most necessary asset of any writer. The phrase was “You must hear the music.” The speaker stated that if you cannot hear the music, you cannot write. This is to say that story is born from within, possibly a communication with the divine, and cannot be manufactured by the mere understanding of plot devices.

Furthermore, I believe the shared love of writing comes from this introspection and communication with the most innate part of our being. What is up for discussion is whether this communication is with a divine force or with the deepest parts of our subconscious.

I have previously written about the mathematics of writing, which I believe is a more logical and human way to interpret story. What I am writing about today deals more with the creative and spiritual side of the artistic process. Both are integral to the formation of any artistic composition, regardless of the medium. There are songs that are played perfectly that are soulless. There are books and movies that hit every conceivable plot point that fail to leave an emotional impact. The inability to recognize the role of intuition in art is why I believe so many incredible teachers fall short of creating a masterful artistic piece themselves.

The question has existed since the dawn of man, regardless of its external expression. It is a concept we grapple with on a daily basis during our interactions with other, with ourselves, and with the world around us:

“Do I look to the teachings of others to guide my life, or do I rely on the intuition within to direct my path?”

Of course the answer is a balance, but not in the way we typically understand balance. It is not 50/50 but a systemic process in of itself. It is the process of creation.

Before we begin work on our artistic composition, and sometimes before we even know how to work within that medium, we already have a dormant vision of the product we would like to produce.

It is naive to think we can ever ignore the realities of the physical realm.

The job of the artist is to perceive the intuitive vision with as much clarity as possible before applying human mechanics to bring it to the physical realm. A human being is more than it’s consciousness and spirituality. It has a skeleton, muscle, fat and hair. Each of these bodily systems is incredibly detailed and infinitely vast.

The more physical skills we accumulate that apply to our medium the more life we can bring to the existence of our vision.

If we are to take the clip posted above seriously and assume the story is true, we can also take the leap of assumption to interpret what gears were turning in Michelangelo’s head each day.

Not only do we seek to see the vision more clearly but we must prepare ourselves for how we can properly shape it into physical existence. It is one thing to see the curves of our future statue, it is another to know the tools and techniques required to shape those curves in accordance with its envisioned form.

Even with writing, we may start with an image in our minds along with a compelling emotion. It is the writer’s duty to find the words to describe that image precisely and build up the emotional stakes, tension, and payoff to fulfill the movement in the viewer we wish to produce.

The final movement in the viewer should be as close as possible to the movement that originally captivated and impassioned the artist themselves to reproduce that feeling. Our ability to translate the original vision for the impact of others will be the invisible measuring rod that defines the quality of our art.

Mathematics of Writing

The key of “C”

The most popular chord progression in music theory is I – V – vi – IV. In the key of C major, this would translate to C, G, a minor, and F. The number of songs written with this progression is infinite.

There are 7 notes in a major scale. G major and F major are the greatest distance away from C in the key.

So how does this translate to mathematics, and more specifically writing?

It pertains to emotional movements. The more drastic the change in how our main character feels the more captivated the viewer will be.

It is easy to focus on exterior conflict and changes when we are crafting character arcs. What separates quality writing from dull exposition are these movements. The way that I imagine mathematics will become a common topic in the writing community over the next 10 years is that numbers will be applied to these emotions. Let’s create a an imaginary “emotional scale”, in the key of happy.

  1. happy
  2. excited
  3. nervous
  4. upset
  5. angry
  6. sad
  7. overwhelmed

Now we have our key. I would like to think “angry” is the furthest emotion away from “happy.” Let’s create a short practice scene and see how my theory plays out. In the following scene, we will move only 1 step – from happy to excited.

George gazed at the sunrise as he walked his dog and realized the weather was perfect. His phone rang – it was his crush, Tina.

Ok, so we moved one step. Now let’s do it again and move through a few steps in direct, sequential order.

George gazed at the sunrise in awe of the perfect day. His phone rang – it was his crush, Tina. As soon as he answered he felt a lump in his throat and struggled to speak.

“He-hello?” he muttered.

“Oh – I accidentally pocket dialed you. Sorry!” said Tina.

George mustered a fake laugh and said “No problem,” but it was already too late. Tina had hung up. George hurled the phone at the grass and paced in a semi-circle. It was then that he realized his relationship with her was dead and the flowers he had already ordered to her doorstep would go to waste.

Ok, so we have a bit of a story there, but it is entirely predictable and mundane. Now let’s craft a scene that begins and ends with happy but hits emotions randomly along the way.

George took in the sunrise as he inhaled the fresh morning air. His phone rang – it was Tina.

“What is wrong with you?” She said.

George collapsed to a seat on the park bench. “What do you mean?”

“Flowers?” said Tina. “Really, George?”

“I was trying to be a gentleman!” He shouted. George hung up the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He smeared his face and stared out at a couple tossing a Frisbee for there German Shepard. The phone buzzed again – Tina was calling back.

“What?” Said George.

“I was playing with you… there beautiful and honestly I’ve never had any guy do anything like that for me before.”

“Really?” Said George with a smile.

“Yeah. They’re perfect.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I guess.”

“What are you doing later?” said Tina.

George sat back in the park bench and let out a heavy breath. He laughed as the couple ahead struggled to wrestle the Frisbee back.

Not sure about you, but for me the last scene was the most captivating. I feel that this number system will one day be common knowledge for writers and used to grade/review different works of fiction.

In my recent short film, I’m exceptionally proud of the emotional movements that were implemented in the climatic scene. If you don’t want to view the entire episode, feel free to jump to 15:36. I’ve timestamped it in the link below so that it will automatically begin there.

Too Perfect Marriage – Part 7

club

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“What’s your wife doin’?” said the driver.

“That’s not my…” Calvin shook his head. “I don’t know. She’ll be right back, though.”

“You better hope so, fair’s runnin.”

“She’ll be here in a sec, said she would.”

Calvin listened to “Bittersweet Symphony” on his Ipod again, and couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. It’d been so long since the sweet ingredients of love had churned in his gut and been devoured by his heart. Marrying Bridgette was a blemish he’d been trying to paint around, but now that he was certain she was cheating and actively looking to kill him, brushing on a fresh canvas didn’t seem like such a condemn-able idea.

“Give her a call, buddy,” said the driver.

Calvin smeared his forehead. “Don’t know her phone number, believe it or not.”

“Ah, I see. Damn shame, thought you two looked good together. Good times end so fast.”

“You misunderstood. We’re gonna be together for the long run. Trust me.”

The driver adjusted his rear view mirror to catch a glance of Calvin, then sighed and turned away.

Calvin scoffed and shook his head. He tapped his fingers on his knee, then ripped the earbuds out and stuffed the Ipod back into his pocket. He checked the time – five minutes since she’d left. He ran a hand threw his hair, then fluttered his lips with an exhale and crossed his arms.

“Go in there and get her. Doin’ nothing for nobody, just waitin’ here,” said the driver.

“Be patient.”

“Huh?”

Calvin groaned, then whipped out a wad of bills from his pocket. He swatted them in the driver’s hand. “Here,” he said, then stepped out.

He paced toward the club with his head on a swivel. Shea said she’d be right back, but the fact that she hadn’t returned wasn’t a huge call for alarm – chances were, she had some choice words before parting ways with Brody and leaving his dirty dick for good.

Still, Calvin felt uneasy – he was convinced Bridgette and Brody were conspiring to kill him. He could afford to look for Shea, as long as he remained surrounded by others – narcissists murdered, but weren’t the type to ruin their reputations and risk prison time.

Calvin passed by people exiting the club, then made his way through the smokers near the back entrance. He tore the door open and came face to face with Brody.

“H-h-hey, Calvin! I was just looking for you.”

Calvin dropped back a step.

Brody proceeded forward, then swung his arm around Calvin and tugged him away from the club and toward an empty alleyway. “Your wife tells me you’re quite the guitar player-”

“Eat a dick,” said Calvin, throwing Brody’s arm from his shoulders. He turned around. Brody jumped in front of him.

“Easy, guy! … what’s with the constant hard-on for me?”

“Returning yours from my wife.”

The smokers outside raised their eyebrows and moved a little closer.

“What? Nooo,” said Brody. “What kind of monster you think-”

“Kind of monster who kills. I know about the gun.”

“What gun?” said Brody, with a chuckle. “Oh, you mean this?” He reached inside the flap of his jacket, withdrew a handgun, then casually pointed it at Calvin. “I like guns, so what.”

“Put that shit away,” Calvin said.

“Easy guy! you really think I would shoot you?”

“Thought Bridgette might cheat with a douche-bag, was right about that.”

Brody smiled. The smokers watched eagerly.

“This attitude of yours is very disheartening,” said Brody.

“I’m leaving with Shea.”

Brody quit smiling. “What?”

“That’s right. You can have Bridgette, she’s all yours. I want Shea.”

Brody scratched his temple and lowered an eyebrow. “But… why?”

“Because when you acted like a pompous ass in the limo she told me to ignore you, and that’s goddamn refreshing after being told ‘stop being an idiot’ for so fucking long. Because when I got my ass kicked by some clown inside she cared more about me being alright than how stupid she looked being the wife of a loser. Because when I say it’s a perfect moment, she makes it better.”

“But Bridgette’s a ten, and they’re both blonde, so…”

Calvin scoffed. “You’re a joke. Get out of my way,” he said, trying to move past.

Brody grabbed him by the arm, then yanked him close and jammed the gun barrel into his abdomen.

Calvin glared at him. “I’m not as funny as you think,” said Brody.

“Move the gun.”

“I’ll start with the trigger.”

Calvin forced his words through gritted teeth. “What kind of idiot kills in public? Look around, we’re surrounded. They’ve got cameras recording this.”

Brody didn’t flinch.

“Why kill me?” Said Calvin. “Take Bridgette, she’s all yours. Let me and Shea walk.”

“Nobody’s trying to kill you,” said Brody.

“Ditch the gun,” said Calvin.

“Problem’s Shea.”

“You don’t give a shit, you don’t even love her.”

“Not that simple.”

“We’ll see, guy,” said Calvin. He shoved Brody then hurried toward the backdoor.

“H-h-hey, buddy!” yelled Brody. “Think you’ve had a few too many!”

Calvin reached for the door, ripped it open, then lost his feet out from under him. Brody had tackled his lower half. The door fell closed, and Calvin found himself wrestling on the pavement.

“You’re not getting back at that guy in there!” said Brody. “Already caused a scene, now you’re embarrassing both of us!”

The onlookers didn’t intervene. Calvin struggled to peel himself free from Brody, who wouldn’t stop yelling.

“I won’t let you fight him! I can’t, you’re not in your right mind!”

Calvin managed to climb on top of Brody, then swallowed up Brody’s face with his palm. “Shut the fuck up!”

“You’re drunk!” said Brody. “Get off me, you’re drunk!”

Calvin reared back then slugged Brody across the face. Blood fired out from his mouth.

“Money don’t buy fists,” Calvin said, then tried to push himself up.

Brody grabbed Calvin’s white button down, then ripped him close and hissed into his ear.

“I’m not the breadwinner bitch.”

“What?”

“Shea’s loaded. Family inheritance.”

Calvin shook his head. “You’re talking out your ass-”

“Nothing to gain by killing you.”

Calvin’s heart raced. “So Shea is-”

“Dead,” said Brody, before taking a peek at his rolex. “Right about… now.” He laughed in his face, blood sputtering from his lips.

“No,” said Calvin. He shook his head, reached into Brody’s jacket, then yanked out the gun. “No!” He stood up and stormed into the club.

To be continued…

  • Thomas M. Watt

CLICK HERE FOR PART 8 – FINALE!

Too Perfect Marriage – Part 6

club

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

“What?”

“The knife,” said Shea. She checked him up and down, then pushed her hand into his chest and walked away.

“Shea wait,” said Calvin. He jogged over to her, then grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “What knife?”

Shea held her phone in one hand, and covered her eyes with the other. “Yes, hello? I could really use a cab, like right now… at Cherry Bumps, downtown. Ok, thank you so much.” She lowered the phone and gulped.

“Shea?”

“Men are liars,” she said. “All of you!” Her eyelids cracked open and tears leaked out.

“Tell me about the knife,” said Calvin.

“Who cares about the knife! How can you be okay with this? With them!”

“I’m not. But my wife and your husband are trying to kill me-”

“They already killed me.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with me? Am I so ugly that every guy has to cheat-”

Calvin grabbed her hands. “Stop. You’re gorgeous… plus you know who The Verve is! And, maybe I’m out of line to say this, but I’ve enjoyed talking with you more tonight than… fuck it, any conversation that I’ve ever had with my wife.”

Shea blinked, and her pupils bounced from Calvin’s eyes to his lips.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.” Shea brushed a blond hair behind her ear. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“Leave, maybe call the cops.”

“Right, because that’s what I meant.” Shea turned around, walked over to the sidewalk, then sat down on the curb.

Calvin hurried over and plopped down beside her.

Shea rubbed her elbows. “Please, don’t offer me your jacket.”

“You want to be alone?”

Shea rocked her head back and let out an exaggerated scoff. “I want a man who won’t cheat. That’s it.”

“I meant me.”

Her head swiveled to him and her eyelids snapped wide open.

“Do you want me, to leave?” said Calvin.

Shea faced the street between her feet and bit into her hand.

“Does that mean yes?” said Calvin.

“If you don’t want to stay, you should go.”

“It doesn’t feel right leaving you.”

Shea smirked.

“What?”

“I’ve enjoyed talking with you, too,” she said.

Calvin grinned.

Shea turned to him, and her words rattled between her teeth. “I called a cab… do you… what about you?” said Shea.

“I’m gonna call the cops. If those two are trying to kill me, they deserve to-”

“You’re an idiot.”

“What? Why?”

“Just don’t offer your jacket,” said Shea.

“You look cold. Take this.”

“I told you I don’t want your-” Shea cut short her protest when she noticed what Calvin held in his hand.

“Wow… you have a sense of humor… too.” Shea ripped the Ipod out from his hand. The song listed was “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve. “Why did you bring an Ipod to a night club?”

“Because I’m a one song kind of guy,” said Calvin.

Shea’s cheeks flushed red. She plugged one of the white earbuds into her ear, raised the second, bit her bottom lip, then handed that earbud to Calvin instead.

He smiled, stuck it in his ear, and they listed to the song together.

“How come you’re not freaking out?” said Shea. “I mean, doesn’t it bother you?”

“It does,” said Calvin. “Just not right now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” He said, then scooted closer. “It should. My wife’s cheating on me, and your husband’s plotting to kill me.”

“So you are freaked out?”

“No,” said Calvin. “Because this moment, right now…”

“…yea?” Shea lost her eyes in his.

“It’s almost perfect.”

Shea bit her lips, then sniffed. “Yeah, I get that.” She laughed. “I mean, obviously it’s not going to be perfect with everything you’re going through. Because of you wife, right?”

“No.”

“Ah, my husband. Maybe if he wasn’t trying to kill you?”

“No. That’s not it..”

Shea folded her arms, shut her mouth and glared down at the pavement. “Oh. I get it. If another girl were here then it would be per-”

Calvin took hold of her jaw and turned her face to his. She shut her eyes and met with his lips, then boomeranged her arm around the back of his neck, tugging him closer and kissing him deeper. They finished kissing, but left their noses squished together.

“Now it’s perfect,” said Calvin.

“So,” Shea said, then gulped. “What now?”

“We leave. Together.”

“For the night?”

“Forever.”

Shea laughed. “That’s…” She quit laughing. “Perfect.”

A yellow cab pulled up and parked by the curb.

Calvin took Shea by the hand, and the two stood.

“What about them? The gun? The murder plot?” said Shea.

“Forget it. They can’t hurt me if I leave.”

Shea’s freckled cheeks lifted from her smile.

“You two ready?” said the cab driver, out the window.

“I’m ready,” said Calvin. “Are you ready?”

“Yea,” said Shea. “I’m ready.”

Calvin opened the door for Shea, whose hands stayed linked together at her waist as she continuously swerved her hips.

“Aren’t you coming?” said Calvin.

“Oh, yeah,” Shea said

“Well… what are you waiting for?”

My moment,” Shea said. “I’m cherishing it.”

“Yo, got a job here guys,” said the cab driver.

“One second,” said Calvin, before returning to Shea. “I’m glad, but we really should get away before your husband tries to kill me.”

Shea laughed, then nodded. She stepped closer, kissed Calvin on the cheek, then giggled as she lowered her head and entered the cab. Calvin came in, shut the door, then held her hand.

“Where to?” said the driver.

They looked to one another. “Anywhere but here,” said Calvin.

“And step on it!” said Shea.

The cab driver shook his head. “You got it folks… hope you ain’t maxed out already.” He started off, and they were on their way.

“Wait!” said Shea.

The driver slammed the brakes.

She turned to Calvin. “The knife!”

“What about it?”

“I have to go back.”

“What? Why?”

Shea reached over him for the handle, shoved the door open, then crawled over his lap, stumbled onto the sidewalk and rushed back toward the nightclub.

“Just wait for me, I’ll be thirty seconds!” She called over her shoulder.

“What’s your wife doin’?” said the driver.

“That’s not my…” Calvin shook his head. “I don’t know. She’ll be right back, though.”

To be continued…

  • Thomas M. Watt

CLICK HERE FOR PART 7!

Oh where do we begin? The rubble or our sins? – Bastille, “Pompeii”

Image

And there I was just sitting there,

Watching fire fall from air.

Vesuvius boomed and did explode,

I sat down and prayed in pose.

Oh my Lord what have I done,

This is the end and no more fun.

God what happened why’d we leave you,

Now my city burns to ruin.

I hope to God they see some day,

I died right here, right where I pray.

– Thomas M. Watt

Lumberjack Sam

At a big business party, all the suits were in full attendance, laughing and drinking and carousing as suits must do. There was one particular employee, however, who wore a big burly beard. He wore suspenders to work everyday, big tall boots, and often times told tales about the trees he’d chopped down, and the ten years he spent living in a cabin on a snowy mountain, seeing nobody and being visited by no one.

They allowed him to work there on the basis that he was simply the best at what he did. He never took breaks, arrived early everyday, and handled every report and procedural conduct like he was born with the innate ability to be good at things. Yet, though they nicknamed him, ‘Lumberjack Sam’, his fellow employees didn’t like him very much. They often spoke of reasons to dismiss him(none pertaining to his ability to work) and always stared smugly at him, as if he was a figure to look down upon for merely the way he dressed and the way he handled other people.

At this particular business party, Lumberjack Sam was sitting in the far back corner, drinking a beer by himself(as usual), when suddenly, he busted out a guitar, made his way to center stage, sat down on a little stool, and started playing a country style tune. Here’s how it went.

“Hello everybody my name is Sam and I am that damn old lumberjack man,

The one who dresses like a pig, beard to big and run down sleeves,

He chops down wood all in his sleep and damn his pits smell like disease,

I just came to tell you all, that I’m too old to deal with yall,

‘Cause life’s too short to live like a fart, too whine and moan then fuckin’ groan,

I came here to tell you today that fuck your troubles I’m goin’ away,

‘Cause I done worked a time or two, and fuck me silly I done better than you,

I did the shit I was supposed too, then checked it twice and gave it to you,

You have these parties where I don’t mean shit, y’all just hope I up and quit,

Well guess what you dumb ignorant sons, I’m the reason this company runs,

Without me you won’t do shit, just talk about some other bitch,

Think of me a time or two, still rememberin’ how I beat you,

That’s when you’ll see just what I do, mean much more than your kiss-ass views,

‘Cause there’s this thing that’s called money, and that shit don’t just grow on trees,

So tell your friends you like ’em all, hell tell yourself you’re extra tall,

But when it comes down to it friends, remember when this company ends,

That I came here and you heard me speak, and did away with all that sheet,

You let me go because, I know, I’m too damn grumpy and fuckin’ old,

But there is this thing at work you do, try it once or a time or two,

‘Cause when you care about political things, you lose the one who actually brings,

The money in into your wallet, ’cause those damn coins don’t just deposit,

I make the cents and I make the dollars, but now I’m gone so don’t be bothered,

Have fun with your drinks and shit, but remember when this company fails,

it’s cause Lumberjack Sam just up and bailed.”

Lumberjack Sam walked off the stage, and was never seen again. Curiously, however, two years later, after the company was bought and every employee was laid off, it came after the purchase by a billionaire wearing tall black boots who had a beard down to his chest.

– Thomas M. Watt