I think I’ve got it! My idea! My story idea! But I’ll just dish out a tiny morsel because I hate ideas that are incomplete. I don’t even know if I like it. I’d feel like the boy who cried wolf. Hell, I already feel ashamed for using exclamation points.

Story goes like this: two friends, one night, a bit of backstory and bickering, some broken romance, and a lone plot device to trigger all the anomalies required in a narrative. “Anomalies” are what I now like to call the-things-that-happen-in-a-story. I guess you can stick to calling them Plot Points, but anomaly has a certain ring to it; a word you’d toss around in a room full of nodding scientists, stroking their chins in applied wisdom.

Here’s a shot, captured from when I was loitering the city for locations that I suspected would look interesting. Not all of them were. But this shot had an emo vibe going for it. Combine this with the song I plan to use in the skit and POW! instant combo; like peanut butter and bananas. It’s a mood setter.

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Exterior locations are a go-go. They’re so liberating compared to interiors. The only problem is the general public: residents, pedestrians, traffic, and oh yeah cops. I was interrupted last night, scouting locations. Somebody must’ve spotted me through their window. Yeesh. Not a big problem; the cop pulled up to me when I strolled across an intersection. He had those fierce, dagger eyes of a dangerous jock. I wished he wore sunglasses, the way most cops do so you can’t really know what they’re thinking when they pull you over for a ticket, if they’re bored or enjoying it, or if they think you’re smokin’ hot jailbait. You just can’t know.

When he confirmed that I was a film student at the nearby CSU Fullerton, he asked what my short film was. I didn’t know what that meant and if he was just killing time, so I told him it was a skit. A what? he asked. A skit, I repeated, and for some reason he said “Thank you” and I said “You’re welcome,” and he spun off with his buddy riding shotgun, who at this time of night, midnight, donned a patch of black sunglasses.

Truth is that I have been bored since Sean and I went on hiatus with Take Zer0; which forced me, coerced me, blackmailed me to be creative week after week, shooting and editing and writing long-ass posts. To anyone who knows what Take Zer0 is and miraculously also happens to read this blog, yes, Take Zer0 is on break. A very tentative break. Our website kind of broke (Sean dropped it, don’t look at me) and that roused us out of a filmmaking trance that forced us to ask an uncomfortably adult question: what are we going to do with our lives? And so, as a creative diversion from our money-making schemes that could inspire an episode of The Honeymooners, I present to you this potential short film, which isn’t even written yet and yes I do feel guilty like the boy who cried wolf for writing this post.

Even the premature thought of a short film inspires me. I meant precisely what I wrote in this Tweet, which is kind of disturbing as I read it (haha). Apparently I have Asperger’s Syndrome, a condition that’s not all bad, but it does make me think of asparagus. If a thief had stolen all my stories and my ability to relate stories, then I would surly be without hope and become a sociopath. Or a journalist. Because without the ability to tell stories–even the crappiest of crappy ones, in a manner as well as I could tell them–it would be as if I were stricken with Scarlett fever all those years ago as an infant, deaf and blind and forever feeling with the fingers for a way to understand the world.