What's new?

My first screenplay was approved by the Northwest Screen-Writers Guild. Now I start pitching it to agents and producers that come to town.

Whoooo-hooooo!

"The Regular Guy," is about a broken man who tries to give others a second chance. In the process can he restore himself?

The image at the right... it just makes me happy, so there you go!

I worry...

I worry...

I worry that my cool, aloof nature is disappearing into an NPR haze of concern.

I worry that my ability to identify with both Republicans and Democrats on some issues may leave me and I'll become one of those Lyndon LaRouche wackos.

I worry that my hatred of the intolerant masses may lead my to becoming a silent leader of my own intolerant masses.

I worry that I can't tell if passing the 40 year mark is the half way point, or closer to a third of the way through.

And then all at once I stop worrying. I look into the face of God, into the face of a child, into the eyes of my true love, or I tear up, in laughter, having watched "Family Guy."

And then... I wonder, which is real, the laughter or the worry .

I wonder...

a guy gets possessed, and...

I'm writing this story about a guy that gets possessed. What do I know about possession?

Well I can't tell you, I'm writing a story about it. You'll have to read it when I'm done.

What I will tell you is this.

It's as if I am running to catch the edge of some truth as I write this story, like something I am afraid to admit to myself or to you.

Or maybe that's how everyone feels. Maybe everyone feels like there is something living inside them, something that must get out.

From The Gospel According to Thomas (Gospel of what? You'll have to go look it up yourself, or maybe you're living it)

"Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you have will save you. If you do not have that within you, what you do not have within you [will] kill you."

Maybe that's everyone, everyday, I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see.

Solid as a rock

We are a nation divided. From the health care debate to gay marriage, from years old "race wounds" to faith wars. It seems as though things are not getting any better.

So what would you expect if some young ladies knocked on your door some late Wednesday evening and said they were selling "rock?"

In the 21st century you might expect the worse, but if you live in Seattle, in Arbor Heights, you should expect what's pictured next to these words; rocks.

And maybe that's enough to remind us that the future will be bright. As bright and simple as little girls selling rocks they found, cause its fun.

This is notice, that the light we see now is not a light fading from past glory. The light we see now is coming to us from a simple, bright and hopeful future.

Out run the past

Why no posts lately? More writer's block? Nope. I've been busy writing.

Here's a snippet....


"Abe?" For just a second the silky vibrato of my name hangs in the air. It's the memory of our love hanging there, between us.
It's the tender parts of me I left behind. I did love.

I have to make sure she doesn't come back. I lurch across the dining room table toward her. I grab her wrist, an iron grip.
My training kicks in: ulna and the radius to the humerus. How many pounds of pressure?

"Baby?" I say. Smiling and I shouldn't.

The pulse of her pulse, ripples through my hand. She freaks. I relax my grip and let her slip free. In two strides she is out the door, a natural athlete.

Had writer's block

Who had writer's block for a while?

Me, that's who. I actually don't believe in "writer's block."
That is to say I DIDN'T believe in writer's block.
If someone had said to me they were having trouble writing, I would have said,
"Oh, you mean you're irretrievably lazy?"

But now I get it. If I don't rest, relax and enjoy what I'm doing,
I'm probably going to get "backed up."
So what got me free? Just being able to lay it on the line with the West Seattle Writers' Group.
That's what freed me up. I'm amazed by how often just talking about a problem can have the solution to the problem materialize, just crazy-good!

So... I am re-submitting my "Regular Guy" screenplay to the NWSG.
I am starting a Seattle food blog and I may even update my Facebook page every now and then.

Here's a snippet of something I am working on...

"Water"

All I wanted was a glass of water. I didn't care what my boss was saying, I didn't care what kind of trouble I was in, I was consumed by thirst.

Maybe that was my problem. I was consumed by the trivial. Trivialities like; honor, trust, respect and style.
That was a problem. Sally droned on about the depth of the problem at hand, but all I could think of was water.
Clear, purifying, dreamy, silky and wet.

"John, do you hear me?" Her voice reaches me.
"I hear you, I heard you twice the first time."

I close the door behind me to punctuate my sentence, to give an exclamation point to leaving her office.

I walk towards my desk. Correction, my old desk. I grab the picture of Kara from it. I leave the four years of dust, my coffee cup, my "Hang In There" poster, my past, some office supplies and five packets of Top Ramen Noodles.

All this trouble 'cause I told the truth. It makes me smile. I haven't smiled in a while. A long while and now I can't stop. And my thirst is gone. My smile gets wider.

The Dining Room

INT. OFFICE, MARK’S CUBICLE, DAY

Mark is seated, typing on his computer.

Phone cradled to his ear.

MARK
(Shouting)
Are you coming to lunch with us?

STEVE(O.C.)
(Shouting)
Naw, you guys go without me, maybe
next time, I got some stuff to
knock down, before I go for food.

MARK
(Talking into phone)
You hear that?
(beat)
Yeah, I’ll see you downstairs.

Mark hangs the phone up and begins typing with both hands.

MARK(CONTINUED)
(Shouting over his shoulder)
You sure?

STEVE(O.C.)
Yeah.

MARK
(Shouting)
Ok.
(Mumbling to himself)
Asshole.

Mark stops typing and grabs his jacket off the edge of the
cubicle.

MARK(CONTINUED)
See ya.

Mark leaves.


INT. OFFICE, STEVE’S CUBICLE, DAY

Mark is standing up with his coat on.

He is facing Steve’s cubicle, arms on his hips and Steve is
leaning back in his chair.


(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 2.



MARK
Lunch, come on.

STEVE
No thanks. I’ll pass this time.

MARK
This is like the twentieth time I
invited you since you started here,
I am going to start to take this
personally.

STEVE
Please don’t, I just don’t go to
lunch as a rule.

MARK
Steve don’t take this the wrong
way, but that’s weird, no offense.

STEVE
None taken.

JOHN(O.C.)
Come on Stevie, come on let’s go,
there’s going to be a line, come
on.

STEVE
Go on, we’ll talk later.

Mark stands still and looks at Steve.

STEVE(CONTINUED)
Go on, go.

Mark turns and leaves.


INT. HOLE IN THE WALL RESTAURANT, DAY

Mark is at the head of a table with five other guys. All
dressed in suite jackets. All in their twentnties to
thirties. Sleeves rolled up.

Everyone has a plate of food in front of them and all are
listening, eating and drinking at the same time.

They are in a rush.

MARK
That guy, there’s is just something
about him, I mean he’s great on the
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 3.


MARK (cont’d)
phone and all, but what’s up with
no lunch?

ONE OF THE GUYS
You better start eating, we are
going to have to go soon.

One of the guys burps.


INT. OFFICE, STEVE’S CUBICLE, DAY

Mark is facing Steve’s cubicle, arms on his hips and Steve
is leaning back in his chair.

MARK
How come you don’t eat with me and
the guys-
(Interrupting himself)
I should have thought of it, you’re
trying to keep kosher.

STEVE
Mark I’m not Jewish.

MARK
No?

STEVE
No.

MARK
Muslim?

STEVE
Nope?

MARK
No.

STEVE
No.

MARK
Then what?

Steve gets up and approaches Mark.

STEVE
Do you really want to know?

Mark takes a couple of steps back.


(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 4.



MARK
Yeah. I want to know.

STEVE
I’ll tell you.

MARK
What?

STEVE
I think eating is an art form, I
think eating is done as a shared
act, like congress. Like a
conversation with joy.

Steve rubs his hand together, like in a prayer.

MARK
What? Like Joy from accounting?

Steve shakes his head.

Steve speaking with great animation.

As he speaks he walks forward and Mark backs up.

STEVE
Like a deep breath after a great
work out. Like walk in the park
just after it rains. Eating is an
experience.
(beat)
Do you know what I mean?

MARK
What?

Mark is staring with his mouth wide open.

STEVE
Are you okay?

MARK
We’re talking about eating food,
right?

Steve takes a seat.

STEVE
I knew I shouldn’t have told you.
(beat)
I drink protein shakes for
breakfast and lunch. And for diner,
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 5.



STEVE (cont’d)
I leave here around four and go to
the market and let the Muse speak
to me.

MARK
What?

STEVE
(Mimicking Mark)
What?
(beat)
We all have something we care about
with a fervor, don’t we? You were a
basket case for week when news
broke about the Sonics move to
Oklahoma.

Mark approaches Steve’s chair.

MARK
I grew up with them. The were like
family.

STEVE
I couldn’t care about a team, but
Saffron Chicken and Goat-cheese in
a caramel reduction.

Steve stares off into space for a few moments.

Mark looks off in the same direction Steve is looking.

MARK
Like if the Sonics went to the
championship?

STEVE
Like if the Sonics won game seven
of the championship after coming
from behind in the series, and
you’re a part of the team.

Mark stares at Steve for a few beats.

MARK
Would you make dinner for me?










6.



INT. DINING ROOM, STEVE’S APARTMENT, NIGHT

Unremarkable dining room.

Very small bistro table.

Well lit.

Very masculine.

Both Mark and Steve are seated.

The table is set for formal dining.

STEVE
Are you ready?

MARK
I guess.

STEVE
This is dining and this is food as
art. You can’t prepare for it, but
you do have to be a yes to it or
you get nothing, just like life.
(beat)
You are either ready or you are
not. Are you ready?

MARK
You’re creeping me out.

STEVE
You invited yourself.

Mark takes a deep breath and looks deeply into his water
glass.

Mark takes a drink of water and nods his head.

MARK
I’m ready.

Steve gets up and goes to the kitchen and returns with four
plates.

Two plates are small and each have a single blackberry with
Crème fraîche on them.

The other two plates have one toast point each with a ripe
tomato slices that have been drizzled with honey.



(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 7.



MARK
This is it?

STEVE
Shhhh.
(beat)
Breath. In through your nose and
then out slowly through your mouth,
let the scent of the blackberry
touch you.

Mark unsure of himself, waits and watches.

Steve is as though in a trance, he reaches down, finds his
blackberry, dips it in crème fraîche and slowly sets it on
his lips, he inhales and then brings the blackberry all the
way into his mouth.

Steve slowly chews.

When he is finished chewing he puts both hands on table and
smiles.

Breathes.

And then takes a sip of wine.

STEVE(CONTINUED)
Try it.

Mark reaches for the blackberry.

STEVE(CONTINUED)
Easy. Like you’re touching a
snowflake.

Mark gentle dips the blackberry and pushes it against his
lips.

Mark pushes the blackberry all the way into to his mouth.

A drop of blackberry juice remains on his lips.

Mark pauses breathes in again.

Mark smiles.

MARK
It think I just caught a buzz.

STEVE
Yeah you did.


(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 8.



MARK
You do this every night?

STEVE
How could I not?
(beat)
Pass the next dish and this time
close you eyes.

Steve takes one of the plates from Mark.

He leans back in his chair.

Steve waives his hand over the honey tomato appetizer,
breathes deeply in through his nose and out through his
mouth and then he looks at it.

Steve closes his eyes and puts the food to his lips.

Steve shivers a little.

Mark watches and as Steve begins to shiver he reaches for
his own tomato dish and mimics Steve actions.

Steve finishes his snack and smiles.

Mark lets the honey graze his upper lip and he slides the
snack half way into his mouth.

MARK
(groan)
Mmmmmmmm.

As his bites down on the food in his mouth, he stops
groaning and he sits bolt-up-right as a reaction to the food
and puts both hands on the table to brace himself.

Mark puts both his hands on the table.

Mark leans forward.

Pushes himself up over the table, leans across and
kiss Steve on the lips.

Steve doesn’t kiss back, he is passive, he doesn’t reject
the kiss either.

Mark shrinks back.

MARK
Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-



(CONTINUED)


CONTINUED: 9.



STEVE
(Interrupting)
It’s the the cardamom in the honey,
it does that to every one.
(beat)
My mom’s been in therapy because of
that canapé. It’s the other reason
I dine alone.
(beat)
The inexperienced get kind of
fired up.

MARK
How is this possible?

Steve nods.

STEVE
Joy goes in, joy comes out.

FADE OUT.



Dining Room

By

Raymond Ussery

an original idea .
copyright August 18th, 2008 Raymond Ussery
3617 SW 112th Street
Seattle, WA 98146
206 420 3641

"Fire "

Can I blame my sister?

She is the one who insisted I have a toaster oven, when I was perfectly happy with a toaster.

Every apartment needs a toaster oven.
"Bagels," she said, "and what about little pizzas?"

So I sit here crying at Denny's rubbing my fingers back and forth, blaming her.

I stuck my hand in the toaster oven to grab my already buttered bagel and I started to cry.
Woozy even.

The heat on the back of my hand.
I didn't burn it.

But the heat on the back of my hand.
Had it really been a year since the fire?

Chastity slept.
I had one more cigarette on the porch and then to bed.
And then nothing.

Less then nothing.
The house was gone, she was gone and I was empty.

Now in a Denny's more empty because of the fatty comatose crowd, crying.
Wishing for less memory.

Wishing for more time.