my movie deal

[Axanderdeath]

Morning time delusions of grandeur in a park in Montréal


After a shower stepping out in to the cool morning side walk with the sun peaking through the clouds I walk down St. Denis Street and down a side street with nice homey looking brick buildings with peoples bikes locked to the black painted iron gates and I just feel good walking along the path through the mountain down towards the core of down town Montréal.

Last night was horribly hot and I sweated torrents throughout the night in my room, of which I have to keep the window closed do to the smell of garbage from the heap out side in the alleyway below. But now in the morning I am in a good mood again, or feel as though it is possible for me to be in a good mood again.

I sit on a park bench along the path that is under a tree and take a drink of some water from the near by fountain. There is a man standing over by the swing sets pushing a swing, but no one is on the swing, but he is talking and laughing at the swing as he pushes it while I exchange happy-well as long as he’s happy-smiles with passer bys. I am in a good mood of course because I am scheduled to meet a very important film director (not really that important- just a director) about making a film based on one of my stories. It is 9 o’clock in the morning and it is early for me to be up, but I like it, and it feels new and fresh to me with the smell of my shaving cream and my wet hair a breezing in the cool morning wind.

I take out a note book and draw a picture of the man pushing the swing--SAD MAN MISSES CHILD--Is my caption under the drawing. I used to show my drawings like this around and people would laugh at there simple beauty and schizophrenic character. I think I might show it to the director. I am thinking before I even talk to the man, who did not say I was going to have anything to do with the movie, or even if he was going to use my stuff, but still ideas of me being something like the next Jim Jarmsch come popping in to my head. I am going to say this to David Letterman and host Saturday night live.

It is soon after my drawing of the insane man with the frizzed black greasy bum hair that the Director shows up. A fat man in his early 20’s. He has glasses and sweats profusely. He also has a handkerchief which he is constantly wiping his forehead with. He asks me how I am and tells me I clean up nice. I say thank you a little taken a back at the “clean up nice” line but let it slide.

“That night at the bar you were pretty animated. I like your energy.” The director said.

“Yha I got a lot of energy.” I say smiling.

“And the short stories you were trading for beer, Dean, they were interesting!" Taping me on the shoulder. "They gave me some ideas.” He looks at me with a smile that makes me a bit uneasy. “Dean, what do you think about porn?” I smile, but I jot up my inquisitive eyebrow.

“I like it okay I guess.” I have glanced at it from time to time.

“Well, Dean this is the type of work I am in. I make pornographic feature films.” David Lettermen started laughing. I was the butt of a bad Saturday night live skit. “I would like to work with you…”

“How exactly are we talking about here?” I say. He pushed back his glasses; the sweat had been making them slip. I guess the tone in my voice was not really as friendly as it had been to start out. I had no qualms with writing porno movies but I did not even need a credit for that at the end really. I was under the impression that porno movies did not really need a script.

“Well Dean you had so much energy. And you are a good looking man. Err, are you Gay?”

“No, what is it a gay porn? What the hell is this man?! Look I am sorry I don’t want to talk about this any more, okay. I am sorry just I don’t really want to get involved in that type of stuff, not that there is anything wrong with it, but I just am not interested.” I was standing up, but not for any particularly reason. The chubby director with glasses got up and with his hands in front of him saying “easy, now.” But he had nothing to worry about I had no want to hit him-that would have been stupid. He then turned and ran off down one of the side streets.

“Their you go honey” It was the insane man talking to his child. “That’s a good girl. Fucking hell!” Who knows what he thought he was doing, this insane man. I wondered if my drawing's caption was accurate and he had lost a child. Something along those lines maybe. I was not about to ask him at that particular moment he looked a bit aggravated.

I chuckled a bit to my self. What else could I do? I did not really want to get in to the film business anyway, and the porn bizz? No thanks. The Gay porno bizz? Really no thanks. I got up from the bench kind of let down and sad, but things could be worse. I still had a job and a place to live, and with a little luck it was not all in my imagination.


Geoff A. Parsons

[Trevor]

Hi Geoff,

Don't have much time right now, I sent you a PM though....Vast improvement over your other work....even in just the spelling (though still a few too many typos but nonetheless nice work on improving that)...I thought you also did a much better job with the grammar and the format -- I thought using a more traditional way of showing speech was a good choice....doesn't detract at all from the story. I think your descriptions were much better, though I still think you could colour it in a bit more...ie, other than chubby and glasses, what did the director look like? "He turned and ran off." -- Too easy, and too bland describing an exit.

Anyways, gotta run, but just wanted to say this story is a noticeable improvement from your other work.

Trev

[Axanderdeath]

here it is edited a bit...