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1. |
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Fade in:
SCENE 1: EXT. - 10,000 Steps
Action
Just before daybreak the Man closes his front
door to turn and greet the morning. Late
Spring chill gently lingers in the dark. Securing
his home, Man turns to engage in the routine
and ritual before his morning run. In this
moment, where the world is still in slumber is
where he finds freedom. He loosens tight
calves and cold hamstrings with counter
tension and anticipation. Walking to the side
walk he starts his timer and takes off. As his
pace picks up and breath comes quicker the
initial surge of endorphins kicks in. Without
the burden of responsibility that manifests in
the physical form of house keys, work ID’s and
a cell phone he sets forth on a well worn route.
Even within the parameters of familiarity
random element will manifest. This time of
year angry arms of burgeoning blackberry
bushes extend into walkways. Random rabbits
hastily consuming the last nibble of their night
startle with fright and instinctively flee for
shelter. Familiar landmarks that define
suburban life flow past. Workers starting their
own day streak past in their cars. Father Sun
gently emerges from dark and lightens the
horizon. At the top of the hill the path
converges, road meets trees, trees frame the
sky. Entering Suburban Utopia his stride
expands and pace builds. As he enters the last
loop pace quickens and builds to a sprint.
Reaching to stop the timer, he is celebrated for
his accomplishment. Winded and sweat soaked,
he walks the remaining steps home.
Shot - LS/Pov
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2. |
Liquids of the Morning
02:40
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Fade in:
SCENE 2: INT. - LIQUIDS OF THE MORNING
Action
Hand reaches in and turns a spigot, tests tepid water. Enters
and focuses on cascade of water, steam rises all around. Down
the stairs, into the kitchen - hot viscous liquid courses and
splatters into the coffee pot. Water is poured into a pan, and
lopes into a slow boil - oats are poured in and stirred. Coffee
and juice cups are filled than drained. Dishpan fills and covers
dishes with an expanse of frothy bubbles. Up the stairs to the
bathroom sink where another faucet is released and flows.
Lather for shaving is released and expands. Rinsed razor
releases the decay. Out of sight, out of mind. Toothpaste
squeezed, brushed than washed away. Cups are filled with
liquids and swallowed whole. Clothes cover, shoes secured.
Wallet which hold validation and fiat is stashed. Badge is hung
around the neck like a limp noose. Subsistence to sustain is
packed. Canisters are filled and stowed. The door opens
inviting me to trudge through another day.
Shot - CU/Pov
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3. |
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Fade in:
SCENE 3: EXT. - Drive In
Action
Garage Door fills the Frame. Gentle vibration shivers upon start.
Wipers flick from side to side, remove condensation. Gravity
gently pulls the car into the street. Pause to say goodbye as the
transmission is pulled into drive. Streets are empty, a new day
has begun. Flowing right into the circles that lead onto a once
ancient path that wended through the woods traversed by the
Twa-wal-kut what seems like an eon ago. The Slavic loggers cut
deep grooves into earth as they drove there rapacious machines
to take the trees from the forest to the mill. Now a paved
modern road, the path leads commuters driving mid sized SUV’s
from manicured cookie cutter McMansions to the highway.
Merging with this modern river, flowing at 65 miles an hour. In
each mobile cell resides another, alone yet traveling with a
purpose to an unknown destination. Experiences aligns and
destinies commingle for a fleeting moment. Each frame
passed reveals a player who is engaged in the movies made by
their own minds. Rehearsing, venting or being distracted by
noise made from radio waves. At the top of a rise, where the sun
glints from Commencement Bay I say:
“Thank you Father Sun for the life you have
given me. Mother Earth for your warm
embrace. Thank you Brother Sea, Wind,
Moon, Stars and the unknown for my life.
For my: strengths, weaknesses, health,
happiness. My loving family, a brilliant
beautiful mate, an interesting eldest, a
happy healthy son, and the fortune that I
have. Thank you for the opportunity to do
what I love to do, today is going to be a
great day.”
Shot - WS/Car Mount
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4. |
Work (Talk and Tension)
07:43
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Fade in:
SCENE 4: INT. - Work (Talk and Tension)
Action
From the noose that hangs around my neck is the magnet that
allows egress. Swipe turns green, code entered outer door
yawns open. Trundle down a long quiet hallway to my domain.
Dangle the magnetic dongle in front of another silent sentinel.
Checkpoint released. Door swings open, lights flicker on.
Machines brought back to life. Identity offered and pass words
verified. Networks reconnected. Calendars checked, tasks
listed. E-mails acknowledged with curt yet professional replies.
Pause to swallow remnants of liquid motivation. Communication
platforms launch missives, commands and questions that fires
and fly around me. Responding to devices that demand
attention - some professional, some personal - each machine
asks for interaction and receives it in their own way. Well
intended questions create tasks for others to complete.
Pressure builds, stress mounts. Meetings start, a new mask is
affixed to my face. Gestures attempt to convey meaning as
words are transformed into datasets travel at light speed to
deadened ears. The discernible reactions to my actions are not
evident, yet I keep giving - be it hope, optimism or feigned
interest. Knowing that my own well has run dry long ago. Every
day we work like this the bar keeps getting lowered. 70% has
become the new 100%. This is how the cruel consistent nature
of entropy devours us whole. By leading us to the soft sandy
path that provided a gradual downhill grade that will ultimately
lead us to our demise. For now, I will keep showing up everyday
and trying to muddle through and celebrate mediocrity as
exemplary. I just hope I can make it through another day.
Shot - WS, OTS, MS
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5. |
Drive Home (Return)
03:36
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Fade in:
SCENE 5: EXT. - Drive Home
Action
Clock ticks off to the end of the contracted day. The exchange
in the blockchain of time for toil is complete. Now released I
engage and escape at terminal velocity. Surface streets stop
and start. My journey begins in a world apart, separated by
class and race. Strip malls feature signs in foreign semiotic
symbols. Commerce gives way to small shabby shacks and
trailer parks. Light industry uncomfortably co-exists with the
denizens of this place. Forced together by the invisible red
lines that create divide. Passing the camps of nomads and
beggars who through a the bureaucratic loophole of being able
to establish up a temporary domicile on the medians of federal
highways have populated the shoals of our roads. I avoid eye
contact with the one on shift waiting for a handout at the
offramp. Forgiving greens help me flow and merge onto the
great man made river. With every one engaged in a journey to
their own destination the unspoken civility and space required to
allow another into the space become contracted. To counteract
this comeuppance I allow more than a few car lengths to
manifest in front of me. This opening is greedily closed by those
who are not able to anticipate the upcoming exchange. Once
this temporal clot loosens, machines are allowed to hurtle
through time and space. Collectively we weave and wend down
the road. Approaching galloping Gertie, the windsock is limp
with defeat. Entering trees I breath deeply and can feel my
blood pressure decrease. Navigating delay unintentionally
caused by NIMBY’s long ago who refused to acknowledge
much less plan to accommodate the rapacious appetite of
suburban sprawl, I exit and flow through the circles to home.
Shot - WS/Car Mount
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6. |
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Fade in:
SCENE 6: INT. - Evening (Twilight of the Day)
Action
Door opens, bag placed down. Greetings announced. Dinner prep
started, meal consumed. Connections reaffirmed though conversation.
Dishes cleared, chores commence. Clean dishes are placed where \
they belong. Dirty dishes that sat soaking in their filth all day long are
rinsed and put into the labor saving machine. Coffee pot cleaned,
locked and loaded for yet another day of satiating my addiction.
Lunches are prepared and stowed. Children are cleaned, stories are
shared and sleep induced. I stealthily sneak out of the room of a
slumbering child. Alarm on, lay down.
Shot - WS/POV
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7. |
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Fade in:
SCENE 7: INT. - Falling Into Dream
Action
Lying on my back. Day decompressed with my partner. Holding
hands, breathing deeply. At home in my body. Feeling the bed
supporting my weight. I detect tension lying way down deep. I
ask why I am still clinging on. Is it anger? Or fear? I choose to
let it go and embrace the experience of the moment. Starting at
the top of my head, I feel what ever is there. An itch draws
attention down my face. Tightness lingers in my clenched jaw,
breath relieves the pressure. The weight of my eyelids
presses down into sockets. Skin is moist and cool. I am unable
to name these sensations and yield only feeling. Once outside
the world of concepts I feel intimate, immediate and alive.
Down my neck I travel past knots and sore spots. Attention
rests on clenched fists and releases like a wave into each
separate finger and resonates in the tips. In my belly I am not
looking for anything special and am open to whatever I may find.
When I do, I don’t do anything about it besides notice what is
there. Attention slides down shoulder blades into my lower
back. I navigate between the stiffness and quivering creakiness.
Passing my pelvis and sliding into my thighs and past broken
knees and landing into aching ankles and resting into ruined
arches. Where I encounter the expanse of space and am
enveloped into the warm embrace of sleep.
FTB
Shot - LS
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The Uncivil Society Seattle, Washington
I do, because I love to do it. I understand that I am a hack musician, a terrible vocalist and a sloppy graphic artist. I don’t care about achieving perfection, because I am happiest while being engaged in the exalted messiness of my creative process. I don’t worry about capturing the perfect take. I am satisfied by the pure joy I derive from expressing myself without filter or restraint. ... more
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