HOW 'BOUT TACOS?

"Look, man, I've been right where you're at. You know, you can do one of two things. Either surrender to it completely, finally, you know, all that crossroads shit, or you can do what I did and just say fuck it, and turn your back on it and everything else. But you have to take some sort of stand against it."

"Against what, existence?"

"Yeah. I mean look around you. Can you name one person that you are in any way envious of?"

"No, not at all."

"Exactly. That's really where it begins. And yet you yourself are a fuckin miserable wreck. I mean you're fucking worthless. How long do you think you can go on like this? But here's the fucking shit of it, man. It only gets worse. I'm serious, all those anxieties you have, you think they're crippling you now? Wait until you really take a stand. Trust me, man, I know. The truth is, all the evil you could ever imagine is alive and well inside of all of us. It moves around like the weather. I really don't like to call it evil but there's really no other word. Look, you know all of this shit. Under the right circumstances, anything is possible, right? It really doesn't take much of an imagination to conceive of your own mother murdering you."

"Yeah, no."

"But your deal is you like to write. It brings you something. I never really had that. You know, I liked to paint, and I used to make a good living off my paintings, but I could easily live without it. You'd think it would be such a simple thing. You just like to sit and be left alone so you can see what happens. But it's not that easy, is it? To write, to really fuckin' write, man, I don't know. I don't know if it's ever really worth it."

"Yeah, ya know, it's funny, I meet all sorts of writers around here. I read some of their shit and I don't know, I just couldn't imagine anything worse for them to be doing. It's just, it's, I don't know... And some of them are really pretty good but it's like, it just couldn't be more pointless. They're like little moths fluttering around the light."

"Yeah, well, it's a new time, it's a new world. It happens every so often but I don't think it's ever happened like this, not at this level. All those things that used to work, they'll never come close to ever working again. It's over for almost everything, for nearly everyone. Who knows what it's going to be now? But it's gonna have to be something, some sort of energy's gonna have to move in. And never have we had so little to go on. It's hysterical, really, I mean, watching all these people still trying, still thinking what they're doing has a chance. Especially around here, right? But, you know, either way, it's gonna have to be a total surrender. Either way you're gonna have to be braver than you've ever been. There's no gettin' around it, you're gonna have to jump off the bridge. I really think you can do it, brother. I think you might be the one. It's pretty cool to see. It's like the Gods have been grooming you for it all this time. But then I think, you know, you're just too nice of a guy."

"Yeah, I don't know, man... Hey, so where do you wanna go? What about the Thai place?"

"I ate there yesterday."

"The Hop?"

"Yeah, I don't know, I don't really wanna drink."

"How 'bout tacos?"

PAINTING THE NURSERY

"You think it needs another coat?"

"I think it looks good. But what about those white parts over there?"

"No, I was just gonna leave it like that. Hey, when we get on that new insurance, I think I need to talk to somebody."

"We already are."

"No, I mean just me. Now that I'm sober, I'm getting these equations again in my head. Like time and energy. They're sort of like graphs or charts. Like Oklahoma is a graph, like a line on a page."

"You're sober but you got high last night?"

"No, I'm serious."

"Hmmm, don't you think those beams would look amazing painted white?"

"I'm not painting the beams! I'll paint the brick but I'm not painting those beams!"

"Maybe this should be our room? I can't believe I didn't think of that. Don't you think it should be our room?"

"It's too small, the bed would barely fit."

"Really?"

"Hey, if you found a video tape of your parents fucking, wouldn't you watch it?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

"I mean, from way back in the day, like maybe 20 or 30 years ago. You wouldn't watch it? Come on, you'd watch it."

"Don't talk to me."

2 DUDES AND THE CHEF AT THE BAR

CHEF:"Cornhole, dude! You throw the little beanbag through the hole."

DUDE 1: "Oh, yeah yeah yeah."

DUDE 2: "Dude, you're from Oklahoma. Isn't that like chess for you guys?"

DUDE 1: "Oh, man, we would just have Mom get on her hands and knees, naked, and try to get it in her butthole."

CHEF: "Um, okay."

DUDE 2: "Hmmm. Good one, bro."

DUDE 1: "Shit (haha). I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just fuckin' bombin' left and right today... So, hey, where's this bar again?"

DUDE 2: "Chicago, bro."

CHEF: "Yeah, it's right there on Fulton Street."

DUDE 1: "Do they even make much money there?"

CHEF: "Are you kidding? They're probably the best bartenders in the world. Each bartender works their own drink station. They break up all the drinks so each station's designated to certain cocktails. Everything's right there within reach. They don't have to take a step. They have something like 40 different kinds of ice. They're basically chefs really."

DUDE 2: "Molly was in Chicago last weekend. I told her to go but she said there was like a 3 hour wait. She said the line went like all the way down the block."

CHEF: "Hey, I'd wait it that line."

DUDE 1: "How much are the drinks?"

CHEF: "They start around $15. So $15 to say, $40."

DUDE 2: "Hey, what was that bar in Japan you posted yesterday? I looked at the time and it was like over 5 minutes or something."

DUDE 1: "Oh yeah. That just was for 2 drinks!"

CHEF: "Oh that's nothing. Some drinks at the Avery take them like 8 to 10 minutes to make. But, you know, you've gotta like that sort of thing. You don't go in there to hang out with your friends. And the bartenders don't even take your orders."

DUDE 1: "What, they just get a ticket?"

CHEF: "Yeah, they won't even talk to you. They can't."

DUDE 2: "Hey, I get it. I can appreciate the molecular side of things."

CHEF: "Yeah, I like the science behind it. I like to break things down that way. It forces you to learn the reasons why you're doing something. Most cooks have no idea. They were just taught to do something a certain way but they don't really know why."

DUDE 1: "Yeah, I don't see how they make much money there. Hey, what if you went in there drunk and like ordered a Jager Bomb or something (haha)?"

CHEF: "No, they won't even make a cosmo. I don't even think they have beer. Just what's on the cocktail menu. They don't allow any substitutions."

DUDE 1: "Yeah, but that would be pretty fuckin' funny though (haha), you walk in there all drunk and shit, you know..."

CHEF: "I heard they're hiring."

DUDE 1: "Shit."

CHEF: "Hey, listen, I gotta go. I still gotta get all my orders in."

DUDE 2: "Yeah, you go, get those orders in."

CHEF: "Okay, see you, gentlemen."

DUDE 1: "See ya, brother."

DUDE 2: "Take it easy... So dude, where did you see this picture again?"

DUDE 1: "Oh, man. You don't wanna see it. No one should see it. But all you gotta do is Google headless girl in Syria. It's fucking horrific. She's in this little dress with white stalkings. It must've happened on a day of worship or something. It's weird. There's not much blood on her dress. Just a few little drops here and there."

DUDE 2: "So what, it's like a can of beans up there."

DUDE 1: "Oh, man, it's like an open jar of jelly or something. But you gotta look at her hands. These perfect little hands. She's probably only like 3 or 4 years old. Her father's holding her up. I can hardly talk about it without crying. I don't know, it's almost beautiful, ya know. I can't stop looking at it. I've been looking at it almost every day."

DUDE 2: "What's the expression on her father's face? Like is he like?..."

DUDE 1: "Dude, it's just... I don't know, man. I looked at it again just before I left the house."

DUDE 2: "Why do you do that to yourself?"

DUDE 2: "I don't know."

The Pilot

A well groomed airline pilot (Captain, distinguished looking, late 50s, thick mustache) in a stall in the bathroom. His black rolling suitcase is on the floor beside him, his hat resting upon it. He is leaning against the wall with a hand up over his brow, wincing in anguish.


CAPTION: "I'm just so goddamn fuckin' fucked up!"

UPS MAN

A UPS man (rather handsome, mid 40s, sandy blonde hair, fit, wiry, muscly forearms) driving his big brown truck through an L.A. neighborhood. He's speeding around a corner, shifting gears, leaning into the turn with a half smoked cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

CAPTION: "Yeah, ya know, I just couldn't take it anymore. Remember in Jaws where they keep shooting the shark with those barrels? That's exactly what it felt like. Here I was trying to dive down deep and they just kept harpooning me with these goddamn barrels. Trying to raise a family, ya know, trying to do the right thing while you're trying to be a writer... It's pretty much impossible. I guess I just wasn't enough of a shark. Anyway, I was pretty lucky to get this job. I don't even think about writing anymore."

OLD BEARDED MAN

An old bearded man in loose, matching, soft fiber cotton shirt and pants walking leisurely through a well maintained garden or park. Lots of healthy birds and squirrels, puffy white clouds in an otherwise perfect blue sky. He's wearing sandals and walks with his hands clasped behind his back, a gentle modern monk fully embracing the golden years of his life.

CAPTION: "In all my years living on this planet, I have cultivated only two talents. First of all, from say around my mid twenties on, upon first sight of a woman, I can predict with absolute certainty not only what her pussy looks like but what she herself looks and sounds like if and when she becomes angry. I'm sure you could imagine the value of this. Then I also have this incredible ability to sniff out a fraudulent moment. But then over time I've come to realize that it's really not all that helpful as there are always too many unknowable factors to consider when it comes to people. You just never know what's working upon them at any given time. Yeah, when it's all said and done, I'd say people are simply animals. If you can accept this, there's really nothing more to it."  

HIPSTER DUDES

Two sets of full on hipster dudes, late 20s/early 30s, all 4 men equally ridiculous and obvious in their carefully considered attempts to define themselves through grooming and attire. We are on a sidewalk at dusk in Brooklyn. Two of the men (Set One) are standing outside the door of a dive bar, rolling cigarettes, while the other set (Set Two) has just walked by them, deeply engrossed in conversation.

SET TWO (Either man): "Exactly, dude! It's just like religion. There's no place for truth in anything unless there's discussion and argument,... dissent!"

SET ONE (Either man): "I fuckin' hate hipsters."