NEEDLING

Things are going just fine. Listening to some fine music on American Routes. This morning, getting up early, procrastinating, not wanting to get on the computer and catch up on yesterday’s backlog. Doing this screenplay training thingy. And I realized yesterday that my Theme and my Logline were both NOT happening, and I had to rethink them. And upon doing so, I was able to write my first Treatment draft. I realized that my lead character had no real goal. There was nothing which moved him forward, and even though that is often the case in real life, in movies with a three act story line, which needs both strong character and worthy action, this is important. Screenwriting 101. I’m forcing my way through it. On my own, trying to get out of this rut. Blablabla.

I’m feeling good this afternoon. Made some home-made pico-de-galo from fresh vegies and herbs. Made lots of it to last me the whole week, so that I don’t have to eat ONLY raw lettuce for lunch. This morning, I got up all depressed and feeling sorry for myself, and what I usually do in these circumstances when I don’t have to go to work, is that I go to my local bar / cafe / coffee shop / diner for a cup of coffee and some American breakfast or just a cup of coffee or something... and this morning, I realized that I no longer drink coffee, eat meat or dairy products, nor do I indulge in refined or processed foods! What The Fuck! Where the hell does one go for an herbal tea and a cup of freshly cut fruit, a place where one can hang out, shill, and write in one’s daynotes? Nowhere, that’s where you go. Such a place does not exist. So I got in my car, went to Target, bought a kettle – I’ve been meaning to do this for weeks – then drove on to the local organic convenient store co-op. I was shopping, looking at all the vegetables, the canned beans, and so forth, and noting that the prices are really high. I still picked a half honey melon, some celery stalks – which I’m just realizing I forgot to add in my pico-de-galo – some totally natural almond butter made from raw almonds and nothing else – I love the stuff – and a couple of caffeine-free teas. I walked up to the counter feeling a little out of place. All the other customers are granola types. Scraggly beards, unshaved arm-pits, long hair, halucegenic t-shits, and so forth. So I don’t look so out of place with my sandals, worn shorts, wife-beater, and opened paisley button-up shirt. Still, for some reason I didn’t feel completely at ease. I got up to the register, starting to feel as if I didn’t belong at all, I even grabbed a worthless magazine off the rack – which I never do – for some reason. She asked me if I was a member. I said no.

“What does that mean, to be a member?”
“You get a discount.”
“Oh yeah? What do I do?”
“It’s fifteen dollars a year, or a seventy dollar lifetime membership.”
“Okay.”
“You can just pay me, or any other cashier, or save your receipts till the extra you’re paying as a non-member adds up to the annual fee.”
“Okay.”
“Are you new in the neighborhood?”
“No... I’ve been here a while... I’ve just turned vegan.”
“Same thing.”

More than ten years ago, I used to live two blocks away from that store. And it’s been that long since I’ve walked in there. I lived in a big house with lots of roommates. There was one named Brandon who we all made fun of. He had long hair, was very thin, didn’t eat any meat, was short, and always had some beans cooking on the stove. We were real asses to this poor guy. I think back about him now, more than ten years later, closer to fifteen years, when I’m myself going vegan, and how it’s difficult in this world of fast-food, refined foods, an onslaught of nonstop advertising, and the F.D.A. with their lobbied food pyramids, to eat properly... I think back and wonder if he’s still a vegan, if he still thinks back to those days when we all lived in what I’ve come to call: The Hell Hole. I lived there eleven months. I turned twenty there. I discovered all kinds of drugs there. I became an alcoholic there. This place was a major turning point for me. I wrote a screenplay about it many years ago. It’s very badly written, and hopefully, nobody will ever read it.

It was a weird feeling with that cashier. I was almost shaking. She was smiling at me with her face without any make-up whatsoever. It was the first time I verbalized what I am doing. “I just turned vegan.” It was a real big relief. Like I’d just admitted that I am an alcoholic... except better.