Archive for May, 2006
No time to write much of anything today, so I give you instead,
just in time for too late for Memorial Day, a proxy for the insightful, witty commentary you normally expect from me: Kung Fu Monkey’s John Rogers discusses the term “chickenhawk” and the convenant the U.S. government â€” and all American citizens â€” have with our troops fighting overseas. It’s exactly the kind of impassioned, articulate, persuasive post I hope I have somewhere within me. Go. Read.
Kelsey had been upstairs in the bathroom by herself for quite awhile — probably fifteen minutes or so. It’s not unusual for her to spend that much time in the bathroom, and I wouldn’t have thought much about it if we’d been at home. But we were at her grandmother’s house, and I decided she’s been in there long enough.
Jeff was standing near the foot of the stairs, so I asked him to yell up to Kelsey and make sure she was OK. I stood up and followed behind him just to be sure. We both stood on the stairs as he called in to her:
“You OK in there, Kelsey?”
“I’m doin’ good,” came the muffled voice behind the door. “I’m combing my hair.”
Satisfied that she was fine, I started back down the stairs… but then thought better of it, turned around and went back up to the bathroom.
I knocked on the door and told her I was coming in. She didn’t say anything. I pushed the door open… and the first thing I noticed was the sickening quantity of honey-brown hair in piles on the floor. Then I looked up into her eyes, open wide with fear (that “Oh shit, I’m in trouble” look in them). And at the pair of hair-cutting scissors still in her right hand, still held up near her head.
I’m cutting my hair, she hsd said. Not combing. Cutting.
I don’t remember yelling or screaming or anything of the sort, but I know that Terry was standing in the doorway behind me in a matter of seconds.
“It’s just hair,” I told myself as I picked Kelsey up and hugged her tight to my chest, stroking the ragged mop that remained on her beautiful head. Yes, it was just hair — but I cried as I tried not to think about what else could have happened to a four-year-old alone in a bathroom with a sharp pair of scissors.
(Pictures of her handiwork and the new ‘do after the jump.) Read the rest of this entry »
Thank heavens for common sense: NBC blinked. Aaron Sorkin’s Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip will not air opposite CSI and Grey’s Anatomy when it debuts this fall. They haven’t yet announced where it will air, but let’s all raise a glass of our beverage of choice to NBC for deciding not to cripple the show before it even got its feet under it. (They’ll be throwing an extra episode of Deal or No Deal in that time slot instead — I won’t cry if that gets slaughtered, and I doubt NBC will either, since the extra episode of an established game show likely costs them almost nothing, at least in comparison.)
Don’t worry, this can only help our plans for Sorkinalia.
OK, people, here you go. Proof.
What follows is intended to eventually be a comic book script, though it doesn’t have any of the page or panel breakdowns that format would require. (Actually, right now it would be just as easy to adapt the format of what I’ve got here to comics, movies or TV. Beside the point.) It’s not incredibly detailed in terms of descriptions — I stuck mainly with just moving ahead with the dialogue, becuase that’s how the stories tend to unfold in my head. I didn’t want to kill my momentum because I got stuck on some bit of acting or scene description.
And believe me, I know it’s not fantastic, I know there are some places where people’s reactions to what’s going on aren’t quite right. But hey, it’s a very, very early first draft. This scene would take up six to eight pages in the first issue of my massive opus — and since it’s all introduction, it is inherently spoiler-free.
Caveats done. Enjoy.
Brian sits down at his desk, turns toward me and looks me in the eye: “Holt,” he says. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
“Oh, geez,” I think, assuming there’s some problem with one of the recent myriad architectural changes we’ve made to the system that’s causing him headaches with the stuff he’s working on. “What’d I do?”
“I’m making an executive decision about your life. I know it’s not really any of my business and not my place to make this decision, but… you’re going to stop writing about writing,” he says. “If you put the effort into actually writing something that you put into writing about writing…”
I cut him off: “Yeah, I know, B., I’ve heard that before. Many times, as a matter of fact. I’ve lost track of how many times Terry’s told me that. And c’mon, I’ve been writing some lately, I’ve wrote one scene the other night and then —”
“Good. So post it.”
“I — I can’t. It’d give too much away — that scene I wrote was way late in the story, it gives away too much of the —”
“Bullshit. Post it.”
“No, seriously, I can’t —”
“Then post some character sketches. Post anything. Show that you’re actually doing something and not just talking about doing something.”
It was at that point that I gave in.
So while I still don’t think I’ll be posting those scenes I wrote the other night — they really and truly give away the big ending and some major plot points — Brian’s executive decision will be enacted. I’ll start
trying writing some bits and pieces of stories that I can actually post here. I make no guarantees about their quality just yet, but at least it’ll be proof that I’m gravitating more toward the “Do” than the “Do Not.”