Life At the Shooting Range: Memoires from the Target

I have been absent for about two months from this blog. I'm sure most of you couldn't care less. But in that time I found myself stretching the boundaries of my creativity, fostering a growing love affair (no, not just with myself, asshole), and was threatened for the first time with life-endangering parasites. Kind of like if Han Solo went out on his own and started a film franchise based not on the balancing zen/Enter-the-Dragon-esque charms of the Force but rather the sinister, seductive, and secular route of spacey piracy... (hey, let me write that one down... Lucas fucking NEEDS an idea...) Except my journey was nowhere as exciting as one I would create. So much for life imitating art...

Now, if you are completely new to Casanova Shrugged and are too fucking lazy to skip through the ill-fated IN THE NEWS TODAY segments to get to the heart of what this blog is about, (though I must admit there are some little editorial gems there worth mining), then let me tell you I have just recently finished what I consider to be the greatest project I've ever written. It is a screenplay, a ghost-story set in the 1960's in Dallas, Tx, my current location and hometown (if you must know). I had a deadline that I more-or-less made at the first of May (first WEEK of May is the same thing, kiddies). We have investor interest but, like everything in this God-forsaken industry, we'll see what happens. But this is the real deal, yall. I have put everything I have into this and I'll stand behind it. But that doesn't mean it won't be panned by every company out there. There is, truly, in this industry more than most, no accounting for Taste. But still I throw myself out there like a battered wife that can't stand to lose.

For those interested, here's a small taste of what it's like...



FLASHBACK.
INT. OLD HILTON INN - NIGHT

A young Andrásné Szabó is talking to a friend behind the hotel. The man hands him a name tag that said Bora.
Next, he is in a waiters uniform carrying a case of wine up to a very solid security door. He knocks in a pattern. The door opens and he steps into a dark Bridal Suite. Music is playing and people are populating the shadows as he walks through the sea of writhing bodies to the bar.

ANDRÁSNÉ SZABÓ
(narration)

I remember one night in particular. I barely made it out with my life... It was the first and last time I worked for the Jewel Club. I had picked up a shift from a guy I didn’t know very well. He said it was a VIP party, very secretive. His daughter was getting married and he couldn’t get off work or something... I had to wear his name tag and speak to no one. He said the money would be great so I agreed...

There is another patterned knock on a door. The door opens and Rose enters one of the Bridal Suites from a service entrance. She is wearing a sheer gown with bustier underneath. Her make-up is severe and sensual. The room is dark and smoky. A gorgeous blonde European woman, Madam Belle, smiles and closes the door behind her. She hugs little Rose in the dark haze and slips a pill in her hand.

ROSE DAVIS
What is this?

MADAME BELLE

They’re called Quaalude. It will help, believe me.

Don’t be afraid. These men are all VIP’s, very wealthy. They will take care of you. Just be your beautiful self...

She leans over and kisses the side of Roses’ face a little too tenderly. Rose turns and Belle pats her on the ass.

Men are everywhere touching, breathing, watching everyone and themselves. The pill is starting to take effect. Rose grabs a glass of wine off the waiters tray as he passes by and slams it. We see the waiter is a young Andrásné Szabó. Rose is walking slowly through the suite. Music is playing and couples are dancing close together in the shadows. Rose watches a group of men surround a single girl and start undoing their pants.

Rose pulls a cigarette out of her robe. Just as she’s about to light it a hand appears and strikes a silver lighter.

KEVIN FOWLER
May I?

ROSE DAVIS
Thank you.

She puffs on her cigarette and sees he is a tall lanky man in a gray suit. His hair looks like he has shoe polish in it. She notices a scar over his right cheek but doesn’t let him see her look at it. She slinks next to him. He bends down and kisses her, hard. She pulls away, coy.

ROSE DAVIS (CONT’D)
I’m Rose. I recognize you from the Fairmont. What’s your name?

KEVIN FOWLER
It’s none of your fucking business, cunt.

ROSE DAVIS
Excuse me?

The man shoves her up against the wall by the throat as he feels her up with his other hand. She can’t scream. No one can see that she’s in danger. She struggles for a bit and then kicks him in the balls. He doubles over and lets her go.
He straightens up and storms out of the entrance knocking others over in his haste to get out the door.
Rose runs to the back of the apartment where the madame Eva stands.

MADAME BELLE
Rose?

ROSE DAVIS
Belle, I can’t do it! He tried to strangle me. Help me!

MADAME BELLE
Baby...

She puts her arm around the shivering girl .
The security man Burke walks up and grabs Rose by the wrist. She screams and pulls away.

MADAME BELLE (CONT’D)
She’s just a kid, Burke, for Christ’s sake!

BURKE
Whatever. Tonight she’s an entertainer. And everybody here has to be entertained... At least once...

MADAME BELLE
Let me fix her up. She’ll be along. Go.

She shoos him and he reluctantly walks away.
Belle pulls out a wad of bills from her robe pocket and gives it to Rose.

MADAME BELLE (CONT’D)
Here. Take it, little one. And go. Tonight is not for you.

ROSE DAVIS
Thank you. I’m so sorry.

MADAME BELLE
Go. And don’t come back...

...And that's all you get. I hope it sparked your interest. Of course, I have to save the really good stuff for the film. But you can see the level of intensity. It's OK. It's been registered with the Writer's Guild of America for a week now.

I had some friends come in town a few weeks ago and went out and totally over-did myself. After the binge, I started having strange traveling pains in my abdomen. Now, being the product of a fucked-up childhood I am what I would politely refer to as a total head case when it comes to personal health and safety. Being my mother's son, I am easily the worst hypochondriac that I know, even though I rarely take medication of any sort unless it's homeopathic. I am, in all probability, undiagnosed ADD and depressive yet somehow live my life without chemicals (not including pot, that is) that could very well make my journey less traumatic. I just don't want to get into the habit of taking things and becoming dependent upon them. Which is funny seeing as that snorting $50 worth of cocaine every now and then or inhaling $100 bar tabs at a moments notice seems to be no problem for me whatsoever. Selective boundaries, I choose to call it. But give me a phantom pain and immediately I think either my spleen is rupturing, my appendix is about to explode, or the spiders from the Stephen King film The Mist are eating me from the inside out. Rational thinking from an intelligent creative? Not so much... But the one thing that makes me a great artist is the same thing that stops me in my tracks like a deer in headlights: a vivid and overpowering imagination.

Anyway, about 3 days later I caught a very bad cold, which wouldn't have been a problem had I not made plans to meet my lover in Venice, CA for a few days. I started popping Mexican amoxicillin like Skittles and hoped for the best. Three days later and two days before my departure I knew it was doing NOTHING for me. I took my ass to Primacare and was told that I had a massive viral infection and it was no wonder the anti-biotics weren't working. He put me on STEROIDS to knock out a bad case of bronchitis. He told me to be careful and stay away from sick people because the steroids would wipe out my immune system. The next day the news announced the on-coming threat of swine flu. Fucking great.

Somehow I made it to California without contracting the pig virus. But after another 2 days I still felt like shit. I called my ex DS who is a homeopath and she told me to get on some Arsinica Album. 2 days after that I was able to breathe and enjoyed the rest of my vacation.

When I returned to Dallas I knew that the abdominal pains hadn't subsided and went to see an internist. Ugh. Thus began a 10-day sojourn of icky and embarrassing procedures culminating in a colonoscopy.

Let me say now: Biology is disgusting.

The procedure itself was a walk in the park. It's the GALLON of sodium bicarbonate solution you have to drink in AN HOUR the night before that causes you to shit your guts out until you're passing nothing but water that disturbed me to my core. I thank the Elohim that I'm single- I couldn't imagine the embarrassment of having to do that in a house full of people! Fucking disgusting.

When I came out of the surgery my doctor said I was lucky: he found a large polyp that he removed. If we had waited another 3-4 years to get this procedure done I would surely have developed colon cancer by then. He even had pictures to show me. Ugh. I could have done without the visual aids. (and for all the Japanese in the audience- dude, there is NOTHING sexy about endoscopic video. Yuck.) There were also a series of lesions that looked like someone had taken an Exacto knife and made random cuts in my intestinal wall. So gross. And unexplainable.

The funny part was the anesthesiologist came to me afterwords and, knowing I had told him I took recreational drugs (POT), asked me what other drugs I was taking... He said he had to give me like 3 times what a normal person would have needed. So much for my love of opiates...

When I finally got diagnosed there were no gallstones, no inflamation of the liver, actually all my cholesterol and triglyceride levels were all excellent. He told me it was irritable bowel syndrome caused by...

...wait for it...

..STRESS.

Alert the fucking media. Gee, I just lost a job 3 months ago, I work in the most stressful industry next to waiting tables, and I'm a natural stress-monster. Who would have thought that it would cause my body to eat itself???

Christ on a stick...

But the good thing is I dodged a bullet. So if you guys haven't had it done yet, go in for your forty-thousand mile check-up and get it done. You'll hate it, but it could literally safe your life.

The only negative thing is I got placed on this strange medicine that I have to take with my meals that also puts me into lala land. No wonder, it's kin to Valium. If you're interested, you can read about it here:

Chlordiazepoxide

Some crazy shit. And I can't drink much on it. It totally puts me out after a couple beers. I'm sooo not happy.

So much for modern medicine. The truth is I think I was infected by the government so as to get me on some psychotropic medicine to take my edge off and make me more docile. I have to fight it. I have to find some way to live without this crap zoning me out like Lithium. I need to get healthy, get back into yoga and start some meditation to bring my stress level down. I don't want to be another zombie out there walking around infecting the world with my fuckedupness.

So, for better or worse, I'm back. In black. I have a new project coming up but it won't be a rush job so I'll be posting more or less regularly from now on.

Hope all of you are enjoying the spring. It won't last for much longer here in Dallas.

Love and snickers to you all.



JC