Oh pretentiousness
Thy name, academia
Fuck all you and yours
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Showing posts with label bill friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bill friday. Show all posts
Friday, October 19, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Advil and Alcohol Cures Everything
Will you please come to me in my dreams, after three and
before four, when the pain is less and sleep comes best to my sleepless brain?
The pain in my mouth has almost
gone with the sunrise. A root canal on
the horizon, like the dawn. Three Advil
after clammy night sweats, and sleep tries to claim me again.
Will you please come to me in my dreams, after four and
before five, when my thoughts express my hopelessness, and my soul needs its rest?
The pain came back in crashing
waves as the sun appeared without warning.
Gray-pink light from the fetal position, and there is no fucking way...
no fucking way.
Will you please come to me in my dreams, after six and
before seven, when the sun is raw as an exposed and dying nerve?
The pain isn't all in my body, or
in my hanging head. It’s closer to my
soul. And like anyone could tell you, my
soul is dead.
Will you please come to me in my dreams, if I have them,
after eight or nine or ten? When the sun
hangs low and the night comes back, and I’m too tired to feel.
The pain is no more. It has gone the way of my soul. Rest is inevitable, if rest is what it should
be called. Maybe just a break between
struggles... with what’s real.
Will you please come to me in my dreams, when my dreams are
the truth, and my open eyes look at what can’t be so?
A new
pain. What is real. Above the lies.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Monday, July 30, 2012
Shadowboxing
I never hit her, although once she took a swing at me.
I put my arms up, and she bruised herself on one more bony than she.
I never left her, until the day that she left me.
I had patience. The kind that lasts a lifetime. Till there was no more we.
I never loved her, but I thought so when I was too young to see.
Only blinded till I wasn’t any longer. It was just stupidity.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Friday, July 27, 2012
Be
I don’t want to be right now, if being means I care.
If caring means I need to be today.
A future with no past I can bear, or at least look forward to.
Not the need to cease to be today.
I see another day to be, not this one, but somewhere.
To live my deepest need to be someday.
A time of then and there, with you.
Nothing left to be or do, but we.
Or another thing to say.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
(and follow Bill at Expats Post)
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The Screenplay Diary: "Between Love and Orgasms"... Based on a True Story?
Every writer, no matter the genre, will eventually run into (or run over and fall into) that giant sucking sinkhole of creative quicksand... alliterative pun full intended... the, “how close is too close?” question. Mulling this over for a solid five minutes before I began writing today’s entry in The Screenplay Diary, it got me to thinking about something you see in the super short TV trailers for films about to be released (or released straight to DVD).
Something I now call, “the source tag”.
“A true story”… “Based on a true story”... “Inspired by true events”... “From an original concept developed by”... “Stolen from the intellectual property of”... Seriously, where does it end? And where does a writer have to draw the hard line between life informing fiction, and autobiography?
You tell me when you figure it out, because I have no idea.
As with pretty much anything I’ve ever written that has ended up read in public places, the crafting of personal words usually find their way into the light because of very personal experiences. Personal, that is, unless they are the very personal words of some other “character” in the story. And sometimes, a story that’s too close can take on an unanticipated (at least for the viewer) element of extreme Cinema verite.
For the sake of once such character, this Screenplay Diary marks the end of one in particular which has dominated the last several of entries. For all who have been regular readers here, it’s time for you to say goodbye (for now) to the character of Buddy.
INT. WAREHOUSE – Late Afternoon
Buddy sits at his computer in the dispatch office. Robbie enters, and flops into a spare office chair, never looking up from texting. Buddy’s desk phone rings.
BUDDY (on phone)
Yes? Sure... be right there.
(mutters, half in Tagalog)
Ina fucker.
ROBBIE
Who’s that?
BUDDY
Randall.
ROBBIE
The big boss? What’s he want?
BUDDY
He’s going to fire me.
ROBBIE
He can’t do that!
BUDDY
He thinks he can.
ROBBIE
What are you going to do?
BUDDY
I’ve got peek-chures. Sa aking lock-air.
ROBBIE
In your locker? Pictures of what?
BUDDY
Peek-chures of Randall giving me my job back.
And maybe a raise.
ROBBIE
No really. Pictures of what?
BUDDY
Ang pinakamahusay na hindi mo alam.
Best you don’t know.
Robbie stops texting.
ROBBIE
Seriously, why?
BUDDY
Because then, I would have to kill you...
and the goat.
The desk phone rings again. Buddy answers it.
BUDDY
I'll be right there... Randall.
See you later Buddy. And see you all later too. Next time... a love story.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Saturday, June 23, 2012
The Screenplay Diary: "Between Love and Orgasms"... The Resident
The secondary character in a film can do one (or several) thing(s) to help a screen story come to life... or pull the plug on a story’s failing life-support... quicker than that brilliant soliloquy you’ve already written 100 pages in advance, for your lead character to monologue during the great, big, Shyamalanesque, didn’t-see-it-coming reveal at the end of the final scene. The secondary character can inform the plot, move the story along in both actions and words... especially when the lead characters are stuck hip-deep in some kind of lead character, existential quicksand (like all lead characters tend to be).
The right kind of secondary character, good guy or bad guy, lights the fire... or kicks the ass... of the leads. And a great secondary character, whether it’s Heath Ledger’s The Joker in The Dark Knight, or Ken Jeong’s Leslie Chow inthe Hangover, or even Anthony Michael Hall’s Farmer Ted in Sixteen Candles, the best secondary character is usually a scene stealer.
In The Screenplay Diary, I have introduced one particular secondary character, Buddy. In this entry, Buddy’s last for a while, this secondary character is introduced (with the audience) to his own secondary character. The supporting actor’s “supporting actor”. Kind of like John Cusack’s Bryce... standing side by side with Farmer Ted... in Sixteen Candles.
In “Between Love and Orgasms”, the secondary character of Buddy, best friend and messenger company boss to the script’s main character, Robbie, encounters own best-supporting nemesis in a character known as “The Resident”.
INT. Office – NIGHT.
Robbie and Buddy sit in swivel chairs... Buddy working the dispatch computer, Robbie on his iPhone. The clock on the wall reads “11:49”.
Out of the frame, the loud sound of a large office access door, opening and closing.
A MAN... Black, early thirties, wearing horn rimmed glasses and a cardigan... enters, without speaking. He walks through the frame, straight to the MEN’S ROOM.
ROBBIE
(texting)
Who’s that?
BUDDY
(half in Tagalog)
Ang aking bagong kasama. My new roommate.
ROBBIE
(not looking up)
Where’d ya find him?
BUDDY
He works days... here... in customer service.
At the edge of the frame, the men’s room door squeaks open. The man walks through again. He makes no eye contact with Robbie or Buddy. Out of the frame again, break room kitchen noise is heard... dishes, microwave, a can falling from a soda vending machine.
ROBBIE
(still texting)
Then why is he here... now?
The kitchen sounds go silent. The man carries a bowl of popcorn and a can of soda into the main office area. He gives a blank look at Buddy and Robbie, and then heads to his office cubicle. He sits at the desk, and begins to watch a movie from Netflix on his desktop company computer.
BUDDY
He lives here... now.
The man giggles at something while watching his movie.
ROBBIE
For how long now?
BUDDY
Ng ilang araw... sa isang lingo. About a week.
ROBBIE
When is he leaving?
BUDDY
I didn’t ask.
ROBBIE
Every night?
BUDDY
Every night.
LOUD BELLY LAUGHTER booms from the cubicle.
ROBBIE
So he’s a resident.
Robbie gets up to leave.
BUDDY
Don’t go.
ROBBIE
Why?
BUDDY
Siya ay mabaliw.
ROBBY
(tilts head)
Hmm?
BUDDY
(whispers)
He’s cray-see.
The man appears, seemingly from nowhere, staring blankly at Buddy and Robbie.
THE RESIDENT
Anyone want popcorn?
The man heads back to the break room without waiting for an answer.
ROBBIE
I’m outta here.
And I’m outta here... till next time.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The Screenplay Diary: "Between Love and Orgasms"... Just Keep Writing
A couple of days ago, I got an exceptionally nice mention in a blog post written by a very dear friend, in which she mentioned my ongoing efforts at writing a screenplay. After reading the post (and spending another day mulling over the idea that sometimes people recognize you as much for your attempted accomplishments as they do for the ones that you have actually accomplished), I realized that it had be months since I posted my own article on where I am in the process of taking an idea, and turning it into a finished, 100 plus page manifestation of the original spark inside my dimly lit writer’s mind.
My conclusion (after the day of mulling) is that, while life can be life’s own biggest ball and chain, there comes a time in the writer’s life when he just has to take the advice of his 9th grade typing teacher and (thank you Mr. Wanous), “Just keep typing”. There will never be a better time for putting your story on the (computer) screen, than the moments you have right the hell now. It doesn't matter if it’s a few words out of a character’s mouth, scribbled in the margin of a work report from the night job you blame for keeping you from writing in the first place... it doesn't matter if it’s an illegally thumb-typed (remember that texting to yourself while driving is also a finable offense in California) memo on the notepad app on your cell phone. And it sure as hell doesn’t matter if it’s one brilliant plot twist that you have on a wallpaper post-it on your laptop. Script is script. And writing is writing, even when it doesn’t feel anymore like writing than Cheetos feels like food.
“Just keep typing”.
As always, I will leave you with a small portion of the unfinished script of Between Love and Orgasms. In this scene, between Robbie, the main character, and his best Tagalog-speaking, Filipino work friend Buddy (a character I always see being played by the one and only Ken Jeong), Buddy is attempting to explain why the only thing worse than sex with your next-door neighbor’s Russian wife is sex on the internet.
BUDDY
Paano ko ito sinasabi? It's kinda like bragging
about a 3 inch penis in a roomful of porn stars,
and getting away with it... until you decide to
meet for real, and then Ikaw ay fucked sa
pamamagitan ng hindi pa fucked.
ROBBIE
Google translate that one for me please.
BUDDY
You get fucked by not getting fucked.
BUDDY
Paano ko ito sinasabi? It's kinda like bragging
about a 3 inch penis in a roomful of porn stars,
and getting away with it... until you decide to
meet for real, and then Ikaw ay fucked sa
pamamagitan ng hindi pa fucked.
ROBBIE
Google translate that one for me please.
BUDDY
You get fucked by not getting fucked.
So, I'll keep typing... and see you next time.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Bill Friday To Be Inaugural Guest On Expats Radio
It's Always Friday, in cooperation with Expats Media and BlogTalkRadio, presents... "Expats Radio talks with Bill Friday". Hosted by writer and activist and Publisher of Expats Post, Dean Walker, Expats Radio will feature authors and artists seen on the pages of Expats Post.
This Friday, May 11, at 3 p.m. Pacific Time, It's Always Friday's own Bill Friday will appear as the first guest on the inaugural broadcast of Expats Radio, live on BlogTalkRadio. The show will also be taking your phone calls live for Dean and Bill by calling 1 (646) 200-4691 or 1 (646) 200-GO 91.
The program will also be available to hear 24 hours a day at BlogTalkRadio's Expats Media - News and Entertainment page, where you can find links to all things Expats, including Twitter, Facebook, RSS subscription, and how to get Expats Radio for your iPhone from the iTunes store.
See you then.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Sometimes Love Can't Shut Up
A spoken word reflection on love...
Sometimes love can’t shut up. It’s a bad habit that love can’t seem to break... not that it ever tried. Love always seems to talk at the worst possible times. Like when other much more deserving emotions wish to say their peace, and walk away. I swear there are times that love, if it was smarter, would save itself the ass-whuppin’, and just move along.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Screenplay Diary: "Between Love and Orgasms"... Taking a Turn for the Words
My favorite story (out of many) about the bringing of story to screen is the story of the 2005 Academy Award nominated film Sideways.
The film was an adaptation of the novel of the same name, written by a relative failure by Hollywood standards (author Rex Pickett), ironically about a man who is a failure as novelist. The story also mirrors Pickett’s life as a quasi-alcoholic in search of success in mid-life, after years of failed attempts to break through to mainstream industry acceptance.
Sometimes lost in the story of the making of Sideways is the tucked-away fact that Pickett’s novel was still unpublished at the time it was being turned into the surprise hit of 2004. Director Alexander Payne “discovered” the story, reading the novel in waiting on a flight from Edinburgh to Los Angeles. But for me, the part of the “lost in the story” story that influences me the most is that a finished, but unsold, story served as an industry “calling card” to get the story of Sideways in the hands of the right person to make Rex Pickett’s words make it to the big screen. Which led me to this conclusion...
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Muth Labben
Today is for counting my wasted yesterdays
Each one neatly lined up, row on dusty row
Every year the same...
Today is for remembering your unborn tomorrows
And the time I sit, because walking is too slow
There is no blame...
Today is for pretending to make sense of the past
From a life ended, with nothing to show
When I speak your name...
Today is for thinking that memories last
But all they do is fade, until they go...
Like every unfinished song to be sung...
About the death of a son.
Copyright © 2012 Bill Friday
Saturday, February 4, 2012
I Am Fucked No More
A reissue of my final column for a soon-to-be deceased internet venue. Please follow the link to the beautiful, new Expats Post, the new home of Friday On Friday, and a whole lineup of talented writers.
For now, here is "I Am Fucked No More".
Epiphany in my time of greatest need
that the shit on which I feed no longer satisfies my empty beggars gut
as it once did
I am whole within myself
and no sorry-ass opinion of my well-chronicled condition
matters now or in the future
as it once did
like before
I’m telling all
from now on
broken gone
I am fucked no more.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Out of a Crowd
I wouldn’t choose you today if I had to.
Out of a crowd, or all alone.
this makes me want to die
Maybe only to save you from some something.
Not for the old, not for the new if I had to.
this teaches me to lie
It’s sad and it’s true.
Good for a chronicle or two.
but only to get by
Because there’s not much else to do.
no more asking why
With you.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Amicus
I have seen the way I see you, forever.
In the now and then, the same
Never worse, only better,
In honesty, not shame…
I have seen the way I see you, forever.
Not your lover, not your brother, in name.
Without end, or beginning,
Only right now today…
As I see you.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Coffee Mandatory
A small example of the stuff that was Friday On Friday (old school). Originally published on a website that shall not be named, here are a few thoughts on coffee, writing, and (if you have a dirty mind) sex. Follow the link buried in the headline to find the coolest new writer's site on the interwebz...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The Screenplay Diary: "Between Love and Orgasms"
After a very intense creative period this past spring and summer, writing a regular weekly column on a website I had written for since January of 2007... and having left that long-term situation rather suddenly... I found my writing, and my blog, absolutely dead in the water. My greatest creative outlet had dwindled to participating in comment threads on Facebook, and starting and stopping maybe three dozen failed "somethings" of a page or less... in a lot of cases much less... in a folder on my laptop.
One idea would come, and another would crowd it out just as fast, and nothing worth posting or publishing. And sometimes, the best thing that can happen to a writer is writer's block.
Monday, October 31, 2011
I Am Fucked No More
Epiphany in my time of greatest need
that the shit on which I feed no longer satisfies my empty beggars gut
as it once did
I am whole within myself
and no sorry-ass opinion of my well-chronicled condition
matters now or in the future
matters now or in the future
as it once did
like before
I’m telling all
from now on
broken gone
I am fucked no more.
Guarantee of time is a cruel lie
a hate crime against the stupid and the desperate
against me
against yourself
There is now and there is now
yesterday is dead
tomorrow deader
move or be consumed
buried and exhumed and killed again
like before
I’m holding nothing back
from now on
broken gone
I am fucked no more.
To see my end as a beginning
like the blind see darkness clearer in the gray
never once did
till today
No peace no tears no closure
no release from guilt or shame
only what is built on bones that stand
and do not crumble
like before
I’m letting go
from now on
broken gone
I am fucked no more.
Story done and over but unfinished
most or more than that
left unsaid
as it should be
till accounts are closed
till I’m dead
Till then unsatisfied
my fulfillment never closer
never clearer
one day said
Victory won
from now on
broken gone
I am fucked no more.
Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday On Friday - "Friday Rewind"
 |
| Celebrity Deathmatch... Viacom/MTV 2 |
One last blast from Friday’s past, this one the recounting of the classic Broowaha Deathmatch competition of 2008. Follow the links to find the buried treasure of what all us old writers talk about from our rocking chairs on the front porch of the Broo Café.
Next week, part three of the series within a series, “Year Zero”.
Overcoming impossible odds, superior talent, and a roster of incomparable competition, Bill Friday takes the 2008 Broowawa Deathmatch crown.
(Gets handshake from Quentin Tarantino... A lingering hug from Jessica Biel)
"I'd like to thank the Academy... Katrina and Rob, my Starbucks' managers... the California Department of Unemployment..."
(CUE MUSIC)
"... If I forgot anyone... I... um... uh..."
(CUE PETER COYOTE)
(Holds trophy aloft)
"Thank you!"
AND COMMERCIAL IN THREE... TWO... ONE...
Wait... wait for it...
Right there. My dream moment. After three weeks of blood, sweat, toil and tears, the ultimate prize. Victory in the first-annual Broowaha Brackets Deathmatch. Short of winning Jim Rome's annual Smack-Off http://www.smackoff.net/, nothing can compare to the glory, the honor, the swag, that comes with winning the Broo in 2008.
As a student of history, I understand the significance of the underdog overcoming all odds to win the big one - Jimmy Chitwood's Hickory Huskers, Villanova over Georgetown, the Duchy of Grand Fenwick over the United States - all touching in their own special way. But nothing could have made this championship run any sweeter than defeating who I believe is the finest pure writer in all of Broowaha, the legend, El G., who summed up his experience in this competition with these now-famous words:
“The only thing that could make this moment better is my impending, well-earned bowel movement.”
And the only thing that could make this moment better for me is to share it with my friends. So, I would like to thank:
- Glenn T, whose idea this Deathmatch was (wait, the idea for the Deathmatch was... mine. Sorry...). Oh, and our amazingly similar good taste in women, including the jaw-droppingly inspirational Connie Britton.
- Joe Mael, who skillfully played both ends of friendship against the middle and bet the Bill Friday money line, raking in countless tens of dollars at the expense of his friendship with the G.
- Ariel Vardi and Digidave Cohn, for allowing this competition to continue in spite of their better journalistic judgment. Guys, I tip Oscar Madison's cap to both of you.
- El G, for not caving into the horrible pressures of this competition, never compromising your beliefs for the quick brown-nose, and always, always knowing in your writers' heart that when you win that Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay, you will justifiably, completely snub all Broo staff (or at best tell the watching world, "This is for all the Douche-bags...you know who you are!").
- and Jen and Tonic, friend, competitor, muse, the only woman I know who could ever use the words, "Donkey Punch", "Dutch Oven" or "Shocker" in a sentence, and still sound like a lady.
And to all the competitors who made the last year of Broowaha so special, Steven Lane, Ed Attanasio, V, D.E.C., Chris Jones, Morgana, D.L., and the rest of my 153 friends (you know who you are)...
See you next year.
(original content April 9, 2008)
Copyright © 2011 Bill Friday
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