The end of days

One thing I know is I’ve been for crap on finishing up captions for the RUNAWAY: Production photos. Sorry about that. And I’ve been equally derelict in documenting the experience of getting the movie made.

This, however, might make up for it a little.

I finally sent off the EPK tapes to Filbert Steps today. It was high time. Now that my masterpiece, The Great Friar Tuck Flood, is complete, I have no further need for the things. Let the New Yorkers have them.

I was going through the tapes last night and today, though, and I came across this. I forgot it was even captured. It’s right before I was going to interview Aaron for the EPK. Justin Remer had the XL-1 rolling, and the little scamp suddenly turned it on me as I was taking a moment to just breathe.

It was about 5 pm, I was running on no more than eight hours of sleep over the past three to four days, and I was feeling more than a little verklempt over the fast-approaching end to my RUNAWAY production adventure. Within hours, I would write my “It’s a wrap” post. Within a couple more hours, I would have the “significant emotional episode” I talk about in the video. But that, of course, is a story in itself. More infamous than famous, and will be mercifully left, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, decaying along the side of the road, a distant speck on the horizon as I glance over my shoulder.

Anyway, so this is a little clip (a little over a minute) of me talking about the last day of filming. I am certain it will never make it on any “making of video”, but it seems appropriate here. ‘Cause it speaks to my personal experience more vividly and more real than I could ever put into words.

So…here it is, folks. You know the drill. Click on the link, get some cheese.

And now, for something completely different…


Think your host is a blog slacker? Tired of the same old depressive rambling…on and on and on and on..? Have you found yourself asking, “When will this TRUE LIFE thing get good? Really good?”

Ah…the answer to that question may be closer than you think! Of course, we have strived toward the progressive in the past, posting links to impressive audio masterpieces composed and performed (with the help of GarageBand) by yours TRUE-ly.

Today, however, this little thing we like to call TRUE LIFE moves beyond the written word. Soars, as Pegasus, leaving mere audio faltering in its wake, the beating of its mighty wings. Yes! Yes…today, TRUE LIFE goes…


I know, I know..! I know what you’re all saying. You’re saying, “What the hell are you talking about, TRUE?!?”



Okay, I’m certain none of you noticed, but I have been in a bit of a funk over the past few days. Yeah..! No kidding! I know….I hide it well.

Anyway, there are 100 things I SHOULD have done last night, but only one thing I wanted to do. That thing was to FINALLY start sifting through the DV footage that I (and others) shot during the RUNAWAY production, ostensibly for what the industry calls an EPK (Elecronic Press Kit). We mortals know them as “behind the scenes” thingys.

See, I am, like, a MONTH late in getting the tapes (I had them in my backpack, and they stowed away to Minnesota when I came home) back to Filbert Steps. Partly, this is because things have been a bit crazy (as you know)…dry-walling, sick, LA, cancer. You know, the usual. Partly, though, it’s because I haven’t wanted to send them off until I had a chance to take a look at the tapes, perhaps even upload them onto a hard drive and take me own stab at editing them in my copious freetime.

So…last night, Lynn and the kids were at church. I was all alone at home. AND…because I was a superstar cleaner on Tuesday, our office is now spic-n-span, quite the enjoyable place to bide one’s time, as a matter of fact. And that’s what I decided to do.

There I am, sittin’. I play a round of Klondike. Yawn..! Then I click on Safari, thinking I might do a little Internet surfing. …Like I never do THAT! Then I turned and saw the little stack of DV tapes sitting on the shelf behind me. OF COURSE!!!

I grabbed them, shuffling them greedily. I coveted each individual tape, as a pirate fawns over buried treasure that was long lost, now found.

“But there’s one problem,” I told Elvis (the dog). He pricked up his ears and wagged his tail, as if he really cared what I was saying. “There is 16 hours of footage here. I’ve got, like…” I checked the clock. “…Two.”

And there was one other problem, in the form of a little affliction we suffer from around here called NOT ENOUGH HARD DRIVE SPACE! Damned frugality! I shoulda gone for the 80GB hard drive when I bought this darn iMac. But nooOOOoooOOoooo…!

Finally, I came upon one particular tape. It was titled simply: “Flood”.

Ah ha! I almost forgot! My little “documentary” footage about last day of shooting, when the Friar Tuck (the place we were staying) got flooded to high heaven from heavy rains the night before. Of course! I really wanted to edit that together into…something. Why not start tonight? See how far I get.

That was 7:30 pm. Lynn finally got up and grumbled at me to go to bed at…er…well…4:30. …am.

All that said, if you wanna see the fruits of my nine hours of labor, here they are. The movie, which lasts about 6:20, is part one of the saga. I think there is about another 5-6 minutes worth of material I can cull from the remaining footage, but I pretty much just ran out of time. Well, also considering that the whole enchilada would have eaten up about 100MB of storage, I think it was best to break them up, anyway. No one would ever be able to download the thing.

I warn you…it’s kinda dumb. And I threw it all together very quickly and on the fly. And in iMovie, to boot! How consumer software user of me. Yet, hopefully you still get a kick out of it. If I have time this weekend (famous last words), I will try to get the rest of it done. Would be nice to just have it done.

And…of course, it helped lift me out of my funk. Funny how these little projects do that for a guy.

NOTES ABOUT THE FILE: I didn’t know how to do streaming, so be prepared. You’re gonna be downloading the thing. It’s 33MB, so unless you have broadband, I would ease up on your clicker finger. It’s a Quicktime file, so you’ll need that, too. Other than that…enjoy!

Yours TRUE-ly,

Let its fingers do the conquering…

It wasn’t that the world pressed down on him like a weight. To say that would imply it was a passive thing, some lifeless mass. To say that would imply it was simply a slave to gravity, and that it pressed as a result of some blind attraction to the earth below.

For him, it was a very active, very alive thing. The World…with a capital “W”. And everything that was the World gathered together and formed a massive hand that extended down from Heaven. Then it wrapped its fingers around his skull, holding it in its formidable palm. And finally, at times that the World seemed to derive the most perverse joy, it would press down. And squeeze.

“I’m always in control,” the World was saying. “Always have you in the palm of my hand. And I call the shots.”

It was the stuff migraines were made of. But, in fact, it was worse, far worse than that. A migraine would have been a happy relief. In the worst of these incidents, he was brought to his knees.

Inward, the massive fingers would flex, pinching, digging into his scalp. He could feel the pressure building. Hear the blood pounding in his ears, trying to flee his skull. Boom! Boom! Boom! Like a telegraph, a message to the rest of his body. Get ready!

No…not quite like that. It was more sinister. It was an omen. From the World. An impish messenger, announcing the coming of more pressing. It was prophesy…a sign of more bad times to come.

Yes. That’s what he was feeling today. He combed his fingers repeatedly through his hair, trying to find the fingers that belonged to the World. He felt around as if they were some corporeal things, like he could touch them, like he could pry loose their grip from his scalp, if only he could find them.

He had enjoyed no such luck yet. And with no ibuprofen, no aspirin–nothing with a sufficient alcoholic content to smooth it out and take the edge off the pain, he had no choice but to continue searching with his fingers. Keep on probing, keep massaging…and praying.

From a short story I never finished. Can’t even remember what the story was supposed to be about. Just liked this beginning.

Not certain why I posted it here today. Feeling a little ebby. Or is that “flow-y”?

ebb and flow

A series of emails between my good friend, Dean, and me:

From: dean
Subject: sup
Date: November 11, 2004 12:33:16 PM CST
To: bill


To which I replied:

From: bill
Subject: Re: sup
Date: November 12, 2004 9:02:54 AM CST
To: dean

Hey, man! I got mosta yer stuff, but I haven’t had time to finalize. Still in LA till tonight. Then home and into sanity. Will finish this weekend and send to you.

Strange week. Mostly good. Bad news, though, in that Lynn’s cancer has returned–to liver and bones. no REALLY big change in course as of yet, just a disappointment for us.

Anyway…we’ll chat when I get back to THE OTHER SIDE.


And then he wrote:

Oh my God, Bill. I am so very sorry to hear that. If there’s anything the Hyers family can do… i.e. dinner, hang out, clean your house, serve as a distraction, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., let us know. That so sucks. Standing by for whatever. Hard to even think about, let alone value, movie stuff with a specter like that is lurking about.

Tell me how I/we can help.


And then my turn…

Or…one might say that movie stuff is the savior right now. So…I value it.

We decided that I would not return to MN early, as an indicator of how we’re NOT letting this get to us. So…all I say is thanks…I WILL let you know what you can do…but right now it’s to stay strong with us and keep going in life without a sideways glance. ‘Cause that’s what we’re doing. It’s a mere bump in the road–not even a speed bump yet–and we’re treating it as such.

All that said…we’ll talk when I get back. I look forward to going over the compiling of story I’ve been able to muster.



COUNT ME IN! I’m on your page with the plan for life and living. When I first got your email, I had to sit down and stop everything for a moment. Then, on the radio was this song…

Chumbawamba’s, “Tubthumping”
I get knocked down
but I get up again
your never gonna keep me down

And then I was ready to join you and Lynn in your strategy. It really is the right one. So count me in and I will align my spiritual vibes with that outcome. I learned from a Native American (second hand, anyway) of a form of prayer where you simply FEEL THE FEELING of the outcome you desire – feel the feelings you would have if the desired outcome already existed, and visualize it. It’s believed to be the “prayer” way of opening the doorway to the possibility you desire. This particular tribe believes in this over the begging to God style prayer most of us grew up with, which is focusing on the doorway to the possibility you DON’T want, as opposed to focusing (and manifesting) the possibility you DO want.

Anyway, that’s what I’ll be proudly and confidently doing.

Keep rockin’!



From: bill
Subject: I need to tell you…
Date: November 12, 2004 7:46:09 PM CST
To: dean

I love you, my friend.

This song…this gift. Made my FUCKING WEEK!

It’s my new theme song. It’s me…

Thanks for being in my life. For being a first class friend. For being a gentleman and a scholar.

I have learned sooOoOoOo much this week and made some really cool connections. I look forward to uploading to the Dean Machine sometime next week, okay?

My favorite part…

He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink

He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times

Don’t cry for me
Next door neighbour

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never going to keep me down

So…there you have it, TRUE LIFERS. You know as much as I do.

As I write this, I am sitting at the LA airport and waiting for my red-eye flight, which is scheduled to depart from Gate 22 sometime before the next ice age or fair and tamper-free US presidential election, which ever comes first. 😉

Anyway…I bring this up because at this moment, I am struck by this image…

It’s me…waiting. In a holding pattern for now–a momentary respite. Yet, soon, I will once again be rushing headling through space at break-neck speeds toward home. It is my physical, it is my emotional, it is my spiritual, it is my metaphysical. It is my reality.

…And what am I doing right now? I’m writing.

You know what? For the first time in my life—come what may (and believe me, it feels a little strange to say this, considering the news)–it feels pretty cool.

Our lives, the tides, the world. It will ebb and flow as it sees fit. I am content to let it do so. Yet, every day I will gently nudge it, reminding it, “I have other plans, my friend.”

And so…though it was not my intended purpose for the bird against sun picture in my last post, I guess I was right. It really was about this, my next post.

Musings from the land of Wheaton…

So…here I am. In Pasadena. California. In a few hours, I’ll head over to Bob Gosse’s house to watch a rough cut of RUNAWAY. My first view. Ikes!

Headed over here early because I had a few hours to kill between my Gosse meeting and the meeting I had this morning…a producer of note, who had not much in the way of work, but a bucket load of good advice. …Most of which I really didn’t want to hear, of course.

So, it is interesting that, in this state of mind, the fates have led me to the land of Wheaton–the perennially frustrated artist, always on the verge of re-breaking through. And here, I find myself wandering–both mind and body, not quite able to settle in anywhere in this town, in this day. And as I walk, I puzzle over why there’s a knot in my gut. What it means.

It takes over an hour to understand the what. Somewhere between the Gordon Bierch Brewery and the Second Cup Café it hits me. The feeling is fear.

The why is more complicated. It takes a lot more walking. More walking, in fact, that I have time for, because I need to be at Bob’s house in a little over an hour. So I walk more, and I struggle.

I thumb through my cell phone for numbers. I call home, but no one answers. On one hand, I am relieved, because home is also complicated today—Sydney sick, Lynn tired, emotions running hot. But it’s home. It’s my lifeline. So on the other hand, I’m disappointed when I hear the truncated fifth ring—the bastard ring, the mocking ring. And then the artificial bell sound—“bling! blong!” which in bell means, “No one wants to talk to you here, asshole. Hang up.”

My lifeline is unspooled for the afternoon.

I think to call Debi, but I know she’s in meetings. I think maybe I’ll call Action Jackson. Hell, I even think about calling my mom and dad. Bleep!bleep!bleep! I sift through every name on my phone. No. No. No. Hell, no. No. No. And so on.

Then, of course, a small insight sneaks in. I recognize this insight. I don’t even try to hide the disdain on my face. I hate this bastard. But I can’t make it go away. Actually, I know I need it to stay, but I’m not going to admit it to the little fucker.

It’s part of the why, it tells me. Not all of it, but an element that makes up the why.

“I know,” I say.

No one’s gotta tell me that. I feel it, like a chill in my bones. That’s not the way I say it to the insight, though. To him, I speak in haughty tones. Like I’m better than it. Even though today I’m not so sure.

“Do you know who I am?” It asks me, really expecting me to answer. If it had a body, I am certain it would be tapping it’s little foot. The way it is, I don’t care. I want to take a freakin’ machete to my own vision of its tapping foot and chop the thing off.

I walk some more, silent. I cross Colorado Boulevard. I keep my eyes pealed. Maybe, just maybe, I will see the Wil, himself.

“Hey, man! I love the web site. ‘Just a Geek’ rocked!” Yada yada yada…

Though we’ve never met, we’d be instant friends. Two guys on the verge in the entertainment industry. And husbands. And fathers. And geeks. And we’d marvel…

“We’ve got, like, everything in common!”

“Except, you were on ‘Star Trek’.”

“Well, yeah. There’s that. And I was a child star.”

“Two things.”

But we decide that stuff ain’t important. What matters is we’re the same NOW. So we become lightning fast friends, and the time between now and the time I need to show up at Bob’s would pass like nothing.

That is, until, Wil notices. You know…that little shit following me around.

Wil leans over. He peers over my shoulder. The thing waves. I can’t see it wave, but I know it’s doing it. And I can feel it smiling. No…grinning. A shit-eating one at that.

“Who’s that?” Wil asks.

I don’t want to tell him. What I want to do is pretend the thing isn’t back there. That it doesn’t exist. Alas, I know it does so exist. I know, in fact, that it’s more real than Wil Wheaton standing in front of me. Because he’s not really standing in front of me—that’s a figment of my imagination. The thing following me is real.

I decide to level with Wil, even though he’s a fantasy figure. He still deserves an explanation, I suppose.

“It’s name is Yougottaworkthisoneoutyourself.”

Wil chuckles: a knowing one. An “I shoulda known” one.

I get it. He’s had one of these little pricks follow him around in the past, too. I mean, hell, I read “Just a Geek.” I know.

So I make Wil go away. He vanishes, though his presence still hangs in the air. And that’s comforting, because I know it’s the real Wil’s energy. Not the energy from some lame hallucination I created out of my sick little head.

And then I turn to Yougottaworkthisoneoutforyourself.

“We need to talk,” I tell it. “I want to know what your game it. I want to know who your working with or working for or what the hell you’re doing here this week, of all weeks!”

I doesn’t say a goddamned word. Smug little jerk.

“What do you guys want?” I ask. “Do you want me to fail? Do you understand that this week…this is the week I need to be up beat, on my game. Do you get that?”

“Of course,” is all it’ll give up.

“Of course. Thanks. That really helps.”

Then it looks at me like I’m some real dumbass.

“You know who else is here.”

I squint my eyes a little. Cock my head to one side. I want to look condescending. Like it’s not making a lick of sense.

Suddenly, I stand up straight. I look around—spin around, more like it. Shit!

Yougottaworkthisoutyourself smiles. He nods.

“No!” I scream.

The cute and well-put together Asian lady walking past shoots me a look somewhere between “poor guy” and “stay the hell away from me”.

“Not Imnotgoodwenough! Not Icantreallydoit! Not Imabigfatloser!”

He nods again.

My shoulders slump.

“What are those guys doing here?!?”

“How should I know,” Yougottaworkitouryourself says. “You’re the one who invited them.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Of course, you did. Remember? When you were walking out of the producer’s office? What did you say to yourself? What was going on inside that head of yours?”

And then I realized he was right. I walked out of that posh Beverly Hills office, and I might as well have been screaming.

Certainly, I felt like I was drowning. At the very least, like I was suddenly over my head. At the deep end of the pool, when all I could do was dog paddle.

I sighed. How? Why would I call those guys? Why..?

I look up. Yougottaworkitoutforyouself’s eye. What do I see in it? A tear, perhaps? With a snidge of understanding? I dash of compassion? His face is soft. And then I realize something.

He’s not the enemy. He’s here to help.

I start to say something, but he holds up his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Just…”

He points toward the Starbucks across the street.

“See that place? You’ve been to one of those before.”

I shoot one of those “don’t be a smartass” looks. He knows damned well… And he said it like he was describing some sort of brothel. Then again, maybe he was.

“You’ve been carrying around that laptop all day. Go put it to some use.”

And then he was gone. Not completely so, as, like Wil, I can feel his presence here. But it’s a comforting one.

And so, I cross the street. I parked my butt in this chair. It’s far from perfect here, but I can get over that. The words…I inhabit the words. And in them, there is quiet, serenity. Calm.

And I write this. And I know that it’s not the end. Rather, it’s just the start.

Oh where, oh where…

Has that old dog, Bill, gone? Oh, where, Oh where can he be.

Look up in the sky!

It’s a bird.

It’s a plane!

It’s a frog!!


Anyone remember where THAT old nugget comes from? Of course, it’s our old friend…

Anyway, sorry about being incommunacado. I need to get better at letting everyone know what’s going on. In fact, I was reminded of as much by my good friend (and loyal TRUE LIFE readers) Kari, who, during a TEAM TRUE LOVE walking party reminded me (I was lamenting that I wasn’t writing in the blog at that time ’cause I was exhausted from my NY experience)…Well, digging in and doing things, even when you don’t feel like doing them sometimes…that’s life, right? TRUE LIFE?

I hate it when people say things that I don’t want to hear and then they’re right. Chaffs my hide to no end.

BUT, back to what I was saying…

I was doing some re-working on STAGGERFORD AND I kinda got a little job doing some re-write work on another movie that is supposedly filming next summer. A pretty big one, at that–budget definitely in the eight-digit range. So…that was kinda cool. And kinda one of those romantic comedy things.

Okay…stop laughing. Get UP OFF THE FLOOR. I don’t care that, based on my other work, that seems like an oxymoron. If you don’t stop laughing, I’m gonna slug you!

Okay…now that THAT’S over with.

SooOOoOo…I was saying that I had about two weeks to get the work done that I needed to get done on the re-write stuff…but I was sick. Dead dog sick. NDE. Well, alright…not quite that bad. BUT-! It was pretty much–

I’ll bring Underdog down, or my name isn’t Simon Bar Sinister.

made it so I spent about four days of writing time flat on my back and completely out of it. When all was said and done, I had about five days to get the work done that needed to get done. I was still feeling pretty weak, but, as you know…

Here this ring, I do fill, with an Underdog Super Energy Pill.

It was down to the wire, but, once again–

Underdoooog. Yoouuu’re the greaaatest.

Was what I heard.

In truth, the guy is pretty happy with the results so far. I am not sure, but I am thinking there will be other work on the project as well. I will see when I get home.

Ummm…what?!? You say? Home?

Oh, yeah…the reason why I titled this little post what I did in the first place. That’s right…

Here I am: LA

I am out here till next Friday, “taking some meetings”, as they say. We’ll see what happens. Got some meetings set up next week with managers, agents, and whatnot. I will let you know what happens.

Till then, I gotta split. My LA hosts are up and around and want to take me to breakfast. They probably think I am the laziest person on the planet.

The conversation…

“I once was lost, but now I’m found…

Was blind, but now I see.”
I had a great conversation with my friend, Pigger, this morning. And I really needed it. Helped to lift me out of some sour spirits from a pretty sucky day yesterday.

Not only is Pigger a gentleman and a scholar, but he’s also a helluva guy. And on both an interesting plane and journey right now. I am very interested to see where this guy lands.

Anyway, the conversation was good for me on many levels, not the least of which was I was finally able to get out in SOME form, thoughts on a topic that I have been contemplating for quite some time: living in the within versus the without. In other words: living in your head versus living in the world.

The conversation–and my comments–were by no means exhaustive. It all pretty much just scratched the surface, I suppose. But it was a good start. And it means it is a good day because I was finally able to put at least a LITTLE bit of what’s been rolling around in my head into some sort of…form.

And so…I got so excited that I got to finally talk to my friend, Pigger, and have this great conversation, and use iChat/AIM (I never do that)! …I saved it and decided to post it here. Seems only fitting, eh? I mean, what is it, if not TRUE LIFE?


AIM IM with Jonathan Wrenshall
10:41 AM
B: can you hear me now?

J: yes
whats up dude

B: I am a bad friend…that’s what’s up.

J: well…i would say busy…haha

B: Na…I been letting it slide. Sorry for being incommunicado.

J: im not worried…alife….what can you do…one thing at a time

B: Are you working now? school?

J: are you at home now

B: Yeah…got back on monday

J: no working no school

10:45 AM
B: Why don’t you pop down here for a few days? All you gotta pay for is gas.
We would love to have you?
We miss ya.

J: yeah i know…its tricky though…then i have to tell the govt, who is generously paying me, why i went to america…its actually a big deal…i still plan on coming…sometime

B: Ah…I see. Goddamned govt
Are they expecting you to be looking for a job?

J: yes…despite being left and somewhat oscialist in comparison to bushs regime…they still have rules
i think that is the general understanding…but lets get serious

B: I felt bad about blowing off your parents. I hope they were okay. Your mom redid drapes! In the end, I had to go to OK. I was worried about my mom. All VERY last minute.
I felt REALLY bad, in fact.
I guess we will see them on the 6th, though.

J: i will tell you that all concerned parties…ie the family, think that i do nothing all day…which , in the view of general society, is true…but in actuality i do quite a bit…just contrary to the general beliefs and flow of the real world

B: You exist on the metaphysical plane. That’s all you need to say. And you eat a lot of Kraft Dinner, which is keeping an entire industry vibrant in our great land.

10:50 AM
J: yeah she was a little upset about that…not gonna lie to you…haha…but i assume its because she was excited much as i was…

B: Yeah…I know. I got served. Told that I am “this close” to getting into the asshole club. Maybe I’ll send flowers..?
Would she like something like that?

J: hayha./..its true…except for the KD part…i spend so much time with my thoughts and brain…its weird…ok let me give you an example of what i am faced with daily…adn then i will tell you about the flowers…last night i was in the chair reading and chris’ girlfriend came in and said…”oh . something productive.” …oh man…i almost lost it…and so i said “what is so productive about reading?” because i wondered what the difference between sitting and reading and sitting and contemplating or imagining or thinking or whatever was…i do nothing right now…but i do so much more…ok i got that off my chest…i am redeemed….now for flowers
i dont know…im not sure if it was…umm…flower worthy…hahaha…not like that…i dont know…maybe flowers and a nice note…i have no clue basiaclly

10:55 AM
J: its funnyt bill…people need you and your family just as much as you need others…you know?
you have a lot of goodness to offer…as a whole…and in parts

B: I think I’m gonna do that. Your mom and dad are SO MUCH like family to me. Which is probably why I did a brat thing, eh? Anyway…I think it is flower worthy. Just ot let her know I love her. To let her know how much she matters to mer.

J: i think deep down people get excited about 5that

B: Stop now, kid. Yer making me blush.
Thanks, though.

J: hahaha…well no…i mean im just trying to say something true……
its really easy and makes for better conversation…haha

B: So…are you thinking now about perhaps sharing a few of these kernels of wisdom that are popping in your head with the rest of us? Perhaps via…I don’t know…a…blog…or…something?
11:00 AM
B: I read your entry on the “thinking I was going to die” thingy. It was very interesting reading. Pretty brave, as a matter of fact. It made me want to read more of your stuff.

J: hahaha…yeah…but they are toguh…the really good thoughts i get are always so hard to keep…they exist on that outer plane where my memory is dealing with unfamiliar territory making it hard to grasp such thoughts…i try to write most down immediately…but i dont know…and when i write now…i never think its good enough…because i always think i can do better

B: Of course you can do better, dork! We can ALL do better. I feel like I write for shit! But the doing it…that’s what helps me get better.
My hope is that you will try to share even a fraction of what’s going on up there in your head. Otherwise, it feels a little–wrong word, but I will use it nonetheless–selfish?
That’s one of things I know you struggle with…putting it out there. All I can say is come on in, the water’s fine.

J: you know the hardest thing…and this was something iw as gonna ask you about when you came here…i have ideas…and they seem lame but they same that you could use them for the basis of a story…but i dont want my stories to be driven by a central idea like that…i want them to revolve around some sort of philosphical or moral question…or something that is not so tanginble…umm…its hard for me to explain…do you copy ??

B: Yes…but I will wait for your next ballon before I respond.

J: and i think the word selfish, although some mmight say it is a cop-out, describes, deep down, almost any human reaction….
my next balloon was random

11:05 AM
B: Absolutely…re selfish. What I meant was…stingy. These thoughts feel like something you should share.
Anyway…re your point. I’ve done A LOT of thinking about this. It’s gonna be hard to put into typewritten words–so much to say–but I will try. here goes…

J: i mean say i have a story about a bum who lives his life listening to radio contests and calling in to win…over his life he was one tonnes of neat stuff…and almost survives this way…ok…so what…no where is the juice…where is the struggle…what happens on a deeper level…
i know its tough

B: Like you, I have spent A LOT of my live residing almost exclusively in the landscape that is my own mind.
To me, it felt awesome. It was wild and wooly, and somehow safe all at the same time. And it was cacophonous and quit all at the same time.
I mean…quiet.

J: caco what…

B: And I marveled at similar things–these scenarios, I will call them…revolving around some deeper and esoteric question, rather then mere plot. Scenes that commented on…examined the question, rather than always trying to–I don’t know–answer them, or make some sort of tangible statement, etc.

11:10 AM
B: Cacaphony — it means loud.

J: i just looked it up…thanks..hahahaha
yeah so you know…but i havent been able to break through to somehow add thoses elements…i mean those are ideas…but they are different sort of ideas…and you have to think completely differently

B: One thing I began to realize in my late 20s, though–and I knew it earlier, but it was more like a sliver in my finger kinda of thing–was that it was lonely. It was difficult because I really felt like I had no one to share all of these cool insights with. And further, I realized that because I had created this entire context and almost an entirely new language–no one else could understand what I was trying to say, even if I wanted then to.
Yes…and when you look at my last bubble, you may see a hint of the truth in there, which is this–there IS not way to add in those more…conventional elements. Because you’re talking about apples and oranges.
And then I realized something…

J: i hear that…i dont know if this is what you are getting at…my friend james eluded to this once…being a writer can be very lonely…often times people will lock themselves away for a time and try to pound some stuff out…much like that life of a magician…they grow up having no friends because you have to be a geek and you have to always practice…

11:15 AM
J: realization…a window to the truth

B: Yes…what you’re saying is close, but not quite what my point was. Here it is…what I meant was that it’s all about CONTEXT.

J: i knew it was out of line…but thats waht i was reminded of

B: No…it wasn’t out of line…it was REALLY close! A shade of what I was going to say–which is…
Personally, I came to a realization–I love your “window of truth” statment, because it’s true. I realized that I don’t LIVE in my mind. I live in the world.

J: werid
but neat
and true

B: I have a “life” of some sort in my mind. My consciousness exists there. But why? If not as a means–a tool–to help me exist better in the physical world?

J: well sometimes i just feel like i should stop thinking about everything…everything…everyday occurences….and just let it all happen without question like it seems most others do…but i dont know…i cant completely abandon thought

B: In other words…my mind, and my existence in there, wasn’t the be all and end all–there was more to me than just that. And the tangible me–the only me that I could share with anyone else in any sort of connected context–was existing out there in the physical plane.

11:20 AM
B: No! Don’t do that! That’s not the way.. The trick–you’re making me get ahead of myself–is to live in BOTH worlds.

J: haha…that was probably an out of line comment oagain..haha…but thats what i rolled with

B: My point is that I realized if I didn’t want to be lonely–if I wanted to–
No out of line comments, Jon. There are none of these here. Put it out there, if you are feeling it.
This is pretty freeform.

J: i know there are always points…but i love to blurt out wht the first thing that comes up in my mind because i figure…no matter how relevant or not…you will somewhat understand…haha..i know there are others points usually…hahahaha sorry to make you bounce around so much…haha

B: If I wanted, on some level, to be connected with the rest of the Universe–or the Universe outside of my own head–well, then it was a simple case of “when in Rome, do as the Romans do’>

J: yes!

B: In other words, you live simultaneously in two worlds. You need to speak the language and do the things in your own head that are meaningful to you.
You also need to speak the language and do the things that are meaningful in THE WORLD, if others are going to understand you. And…you can’t forget.

11:25 AM
B: You are ALSO a citizen of the physical universe. THis is your home as much OR MORE than the Universe in your head. For, at least on some level, your conscious self could not live–maybe not even exist!–without your physical self.
So…which one is more important?

J: ok./..two quesstions…do you feel you have a group??? im not gonna explain further…see what you come up with…and why did the narrator brick up fortunato in the cask of amontillado
oops…i didnt wqatnto send that yet

B: In the end, I believe both and neither…I believe they are interconnected. That they feed each other. And because they are as important as each other, they deserve equal time and attention.
I feel like I have server groups.

J: server…like church server…or computer server???

B: And in order to best function in the physical world, there are conventions–the language of words and action–one must follow, at least in some fashion, in order to be comprehended by others (who are also living in two worlds).
I meant several. Sorry.

J: ok…thats cool…i have several…or at least two groups of compoeltely diff friends…but i doubt i could pick more than two to talk about what i want to talk about….you know…like…yes here we go back to kerouac…but he had his group…and i think it ehlped his mind develop….

11:30 AM
B: One of those conventions–one that I found–was the craft of writing. It has structure and it’s kinda rules based, and it sometimes feels like I am fitting a quare peg into a round hole–meaning the thoughts and concepts generated out of me head world into some world-based (and comprehensible) form.

J: i gotcha…i understand what you are saying…but exploring the physical body as compared to the oh so mysterious mind…??

B: In concert with…

J: i understand my body is an agent…but the mind man…i dont understand that at all

B: There are two landscapes. We are explorers of both worlds. And we have..responsibilities..? to both.
And I suggest you don’t understand your body as much as you do your mind right now.

J: traveling is fun…on both planes…yes
whoa…you think so

B: Yes…I do.

J: why is that

B: Maybe “understand” isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s that you’re struggling with how to reconcile them..?
I’ve come to realize that the two worlds will never really match up.

11:35 AM
J: maybe…im with you…im just trying to see the light…maybe its almost like taking your body for granted…and forgetting about it while going off to discover this, almost cliche, idea of gettting insode your mind

B: And there are very few people who can understand the language of my head world (e.g., the same kind of people you were referring to when you said you have groups, but only two people in the group got what you were tyring to say)…
Yeah…that’s pretty much it.

J: thus we ….man…we have to look outward more often…yikes

B: As much as you do inward, I believe.

J: it makes sense…now…since you are part of that kerouacian group…..have you read edgar allen poe…the cask of amontillado…or seen the short moive version perhaps…??

B: And you need to…HELP others–those who are not going to readily understand your head world language–to get what you’re trying to tell them, in the manner that will best be received and comprehended by them, and still –hopefully and at least–contain the core of your original concept/meaning/whatever from your intended message.

J: i am sure there is no other reason then to entertain the reader….but why did he bury that man alive

B: That is, if you give a shit about doing that. I am a writer, so obviously I choose to pay attention to it.
Am I going to show my ignorance when I say I’ve never read it?
But…I do know Poe. it was probably because he was obsessed witht he morbid.
Hey! I got smileys!

J: ok…well it doesnt matter…i know it is just for show…but that is the whole story…all 8 pages of it.

11:40 AM
J: you may be on to something….so tell me…right now…i meant what…are you sitting in your little chair…is elvis hanging out….grey skies out the window….what are you working on?

B: I am actually lounging in bed. Minnie is sleeping next to me. I had a TERRIBLE day yesterday. Really knocked the wind outta me. I really need to get up and start my day (see, I haven’t done that, either!), but I have still been a little shell shocked, I guess.
It’s funny…this conversation has really helped to pick me up. Thanks, man!

J: hahaha…nothing like a single topic debate with controlled sturcture

B: At the moment…as far as writing…I am supposed to be working on a script I am writing for my friend Dean. About reincarnation. reading a fascinating book by a guy named Hans TenDam…
No shit.

J: so when and where is runway coming out…and how can i date ronim tunney

B: See what I mean, though? Following a conventional structure in the physical world, helping the head world somehow.

J: of course you know i mean robin
your good for me

11:45 AM
B: And I used this convention to make a point to you that the only way I coulda done so in head world language would be to go “AAAAAARRRRGGHHHCCKKKKKKKFFHSDJFKSALDJHSLKJHKASJHAKJ!!!!!’ Didja get that??
And you for me, my good friend.
Just call Robin. I am certain her Aussie director boyfriend won’t mind.

J: aussie’s///what do they see in them…i got an accent too eh

B: Anyway…we gotta finish getting the thing edited first. Last word is sometime by the end of the year? A rough cut? We’ll see.

J: shes old anyway…i was really hoping for rachel leigh cook…more my age range
ok…i want to see the debut though…or the playing of it at a festival or something….

B: The producers are taking care of all that. Hiring the best of the best, which is good. But…I won’t know more until Jan/Feb what the trajectory is for the movie.
You GOING to the premiere! All of the Wreshalls, dude!

J: cool

B: Right now, I am focusing on other things. What to do with STAGGERFORD. Getting the next thing done. I have been, for some reason, thinking a lot about the book I 2/3 finished…The Bottomless Pit. I might go back to that. Get it done, finally.

11:50 AM
J: i like the bottomless pit…never read it…but i like the title…and what you told me of the basics….anyway i have to get this day going…get a coffee, shower, get oot and aboot…, maybe write something, and check out the outside world…

B: I DID see, however, a very rough assemblage of scenes a few weeks ago, though. I was very happy. I could see the movie poking out in there. Like a newborn, crowning.
Me, too. hey! I had fun. thanks for talking to me.
J: sweet…
that must be like music for you…
yeah me too…my brain hurts in fact…anyway man…lets do this again…until we will live only through our blogs…hahaha

B: Yeah. See ya. And REALLY think about coming down sometime–hopefully soon. It would be great to do this with beer.
Later, gator…

J: peace!