Uncategorized – Page 9 – The Plot Department

After The Mania

“What’s up with Johnny? Don’t ya know he’s got that awful voice when he’s in that terrible mood I mean my God, what’s gonna happen to him? I swear, Margaret, sometimes I wanna take that fucking kid and drown him. Just take that worthless bastard and shove his head in the fucking toilet bowl and then at the very last minute, right before he turns blue, release him. Smack him around and shit. What kind of fucking demon is he? Making a fortune off of wounded souls! Ah shit, he’s at it again. JOHNNY! SHUT THE HELL UP OR I’LL RACE IN THERE AND GIVE YOU A SMACKING!”

Ben kept at it all night, irritating Margaret as she dozed off. Shook her. Trembled in the bed, fearing that Johnny would charge into the bedroom, kitchen knifes displayed like a violent deck of cards. Smash! Right in the neck. No, he wasn’t gonna face that kind of slaughter.

“Will you knock if off, Ben! Please. I wanna get me some shut eye. Can’t a woman get some shut eye around here? Between you and Johnny, I’ll have to rent a hotel room.” She rolled over, grunted, leaving Ben awestruck.

“She never mouths off to me. Wow, she really must be tired. Fine, I’ll make my way through the frigid corridor and sit beside Johnny’s door, pounding on it after ever sharp-piercing decible.”

In the morning, indents on Ben’s back. He slept all weird. Dreamed about Johnny and Margaret having an affair…

No! The italicized words are shit! Total fucking shit! There was a streak of mania riding through my brain on the way home from the gym. They were dangerous. This here is Hollywood nonsense. Something I’ve never experienced before. An affair! Shit in my last relationship, a million years ago, I encouraged my ex-girlfriend to fool around with her band mate. I wanted to watch. Eventually, she broke up with me. Claimed that when it came to love she didn’t “know what it meant anymore.” They did fuck. Must have been good. Now they’re married with a kid, maybe two.

Pregnant With Giants

I feel pregnant with giants. The harder I push, the greater the resistance. Fragments of them fall out. They have strangenames (strange names, strangenames someone has strange names) like Zembrawr and Kendilickan. They all claim to be metrosexual, their behaviors though are asexual. The couch upon where they sit has puncture marks.

At night they keep me up. During the day, I attempt to counsel them but they’re nowhere to be found. Sometimes, a ghoulish fragment pulls me aside. He possesses no eyes. Somehow he sees everything. He tells me about a woman who will appear in my life. We’ll marry. Maybe have kids. When I press for further details, he vanishes.

What remains is emptiness and the next segment of my screenplay–

EXT. LOG CABIN - NIGHT

Damian gasps for air.

Will slides down a rope, lands inches from Damian.

WILL
This shit's crazy! What's in this
wine?

Damian snorts. Picks himself off the ground.

DAMIAN
Grapes.

Will climbs halfway up the rope, swings and shouts--

WILL
Grapes! How I love grapes!

Damian heads inside.

INT. LOG CABIN - NIGHT

On the floor, beside the kitchen sink, Charlie's curled up in
a ball.

Damian kicks him.

DAMIAN
Wake up.

Charlie doesn't budge.

CHARLIE
I'm awake.

DAMIAN
Sit up, then.

CHARLIE
Why?

DAMIAN
I wanna talk.

Charlie opens one eye.

CHARLIE
You wanna talk? That's a new one.
You never wanna talk.

DAMIAN
Why did Kate send you here?

Charlie picks himself off the floor. Rifles through the
cooler.

CHARLIE
Where's the feta cheese?

DAMIAN
Charlie...

CHARLIE
Tell me you two didn't eat the feta
cheese.

DAMIAN
We didn't eat the feta cheese.
Kate promised she wouldn't send
anyone here. What the fuck are you
doing here?

CHARLIE
If you didn't eat the feta, where
the hell is it? I did bring it
didn't I? I remember it in the
basket.

Damian pulls Charlie away from the cooler. Grabs him by the
neck. Pushes him into the wall.

DAMIAN
Was she upset?

CHARLIE
No. Everything was peachy.

Damian pushes Charlie onto the floor. Gives him a swift kick
in the back.

Will rushes in, arms flailing about.

WILL
Yo, Damian you gotta try--

Charlie spits up blood.

DAMIAN
What, Will?

WILL
The swing. You gotta try it.

DAMIAN
Yeah. I will.

Exiting the log cabin, Damian pushes past Will, nearly knocks
the boy over.

WILL
What's with him?

CHARLIE
Everything.

WILL
I'm hungry.

CHARLIE
Well, you can't have feta cheese.

WILL
Yeah, I know. I ate it all.

A Peaceful Solution To Doomsday

According to the Mayans, there are only five days left before the world ends. The behaviors of the last couple of days lead me to believe that some are acting as if this prophecy’s written in stone (well, technically it was written in stone…you get the meaning). I refer specifically to two horrific behaviors: the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre and the shooting at the Newport Beach mall. As if the massacre wasn’t enough, a bomb threat against a Newtown Catholic Church surfaced yesterday afternoon.

Let’s just say the Mayans are correct. Come with me on a hopefully fictional journey where what we know, our roads, our loved ones, our running sneakers, our childhood dog’s tombstone, our most hated buildings burn to total smithereens by some supernatural force Friday mid-breakfast. The days that precede this so-called obliteration of what is, could go in many directions. It could be business as usual. Head to the office, drop your kids off at soccer practice, bake those delicious sugar cookies, attend your reading clubs. It could be filled with the continuance of utter hate and rage. More gun violence. Bombs explode at every street corner. Mothers are raped. Fathers are murdered. Children are kidnapped and tortured. Mass suicides.

I propose a totally different response. Bury your guns. Snip the wires to your homemade bombs. Lock your cutlery drawer. Most importantly, go inward. That’s right, GO INWARD. Go beyond meditation. Reflect on the person you are/wish to be. Feel that heartbreak that you continue to deny. Instead of acting out against the person who broke your heart, cry your eyes out. Punch a pillow. Jump up and down till you feel lighter. Feel…

Should all this sound fluffy to you, talk to someone. You have nobody in your life, call a helpline. There are people out there that do wish to help.

Below is a fragment of how I dealt with my terror yesterday. It’s a video I wrote, directed and edited all in five hours.

P.S. This video is satirical. It’s my hope, should Congress vote against extended unemployment benefits, nobody kills themselves in response.

Toni Collette

My shrine for Toni Collette exists solely in my mind. As the day passes, the thought of working with her arrives at least fifteen different times. She makes the subtlest movements that after a quick examination scream, “I am this character. I’ve always been this character and will die this character.” Regardless of the role, regardless of the absurdity, she breathes honesty.

Using Toni as a muse, I sketched out a story for a film that is so personal. It delineates my discomfort in romance and with family. I’d be delighted if she played the female lead. Who knows?

The below excerpt is not (I underlined the word not so that if this happens to be read on opposite day, it’s clear that this is not) from the story; it’s a continuation of the script titled Descent.

INT. STORE - DAY

BELLA, a shaking octogenarian, dusts the register. She
looks over at Charlie who is sifting through the ladies'
dresses.

BELLA
It's a nice selection here, isn't
it?

CHARLIE
Sure is. My wife...

BELLA
Try something on. We got dressing
rooms, ya know?

Bella canes her way over to Charlie. After examining a
dress, she violently pushes it away.

CHARLIE
Thank you but I'm...

BELLA
I think you'd look excellent in
red. Ah, I saw a nice red dress
here yesterday. Where's the damn
thing. Oops, pardon my language.
I used to never curse until my
husband died. You married?

CHARLIE
Not yet.

BELLA
Well, be patient. Someday you'll
find a man of your own.

CHARLIE
Oh, I get it! You think I'm a
woman because I'm...

BELLA
You're a beautiful woman. There's
no reason why you shouldn't be
married.

CHARLIE
Well, okay.

BELLA
Well, I speak the truth. Ah, okay
here's the dress.

Bella holds the dress up against Charlie's body.

INT. LOG CABIN - EVENING

Will downs his glass of wine.

WILL
More, please.

Charlie wearing a red dress refills Will's glass.

CHARLIE
That's a ton of wine for a boy your
age.

WILL
Did I ask for a commentary?

CHARLIE
No?

WILL
Then step away, woman.

Shivers run down Charlie's back as he steps away.

In the corner, Damian whittles a stick and hums.

CHARLIE
How long do I have to wear this?

WILL
Until either you leave or truly
morph into a woman.

DAMIAN
Knowing Charlie, he'll fall in love
with the dress but never leave nor
morph into a woman.

Damian and Will chuckle.

WILL
Woman, refill his glass.

Charlie refills Damian's glass.

Damian joins Will at the table. He hands Will the whittled
stick.

DAMIAN
What do you think?

WILL
That should do. I'll test it.

DAMIAN
On what?

Will tosses the whittled wood at Charlie's back.

CHARLIE
Fucking prick!

WILL
Exactly!

Damian and Will roar in wild laughter.

BEGIN DREAM SEQUENCE

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY

It's clearly winter. Everyone's bundled up in warm clothing
including Kate and Charlie.

Kate fishes in her pocket. Pulls out a quarter. Hands it to
Charlie.

KATE
That's all I got.

CHARLIE
I'm jonesing for a smoke, Kate.
What the hell will I do with a
quarter?

KATE
Buy gum. Kill the boy.

CHARLIE
Will?

KATE
No. Not Will.

CHARLIE
Then who?

Kate points across the street to Damian. He's dressed like
a schoolboy. Sucks his thumb.

A thick rope unravels in the air. It falls to the ground.

THUD

Damian's eyes widen.

END DREAM SEQUENCE

The Whine

It feels like forever since my last post. Life’s been rather insane. On December 8th, a letter from Department of Labor came in reminding me that my unemployment benefits could expire on the 30th of this month. My finances are in the hands of congress. This is so fucked up! All I need is one more month.

Last Monday, I visited an organization in New York City called The Actors Fund. This wonderful organization helps actors, filmmakers, writers, dancers, etc find work in everything but the entertainment industry. There are networking opportunities, seminars, career counselors, so much! Since I’ve never earned a dime in the entertainment industry, I’m in the process of asking former actors, musicians, collaborators of all sorts to write letters, vouching for my validity as a writer/filmmaker. Maybe, just maybe, I can receive their assistance. Isn’t this fucking blog enough?

In other news, this evening I’m auditioning for a role or two in a Vassar film. There’s no pay but fuck I need something in life to feel good. Yeah, I know, I sound whiny. But if you were to walk in my shoes, you’d probably be dead…or lose your feet.

Enough of “me”. Here’s the next installment of the script —

EXT. CLEARING - EARLY MORNING

Smoke rises from the log cabin's chimney.

Damian and Will run through the clearing toward the cabin.

EXT/INT. LOG CABIN - EARLY MORNING

Damian and Will duck beneath the window.

WILL
(whispers)
I'm gonna take the shot.

DAMIAN
Hold on.

Damian raises his eyes to window level. Bites his lip.
Crumbles to the ground.

WILL
What? Can I take it?

DAMIAN
No. Fuck!

WILL
What?

Will peers through the window.

Charlie smokes a cigarette while hot water boils on the wood
stove.

WILL (CONT'D)
Who the fuck is that?

DAMIAN
It's Charlie Hammond.
(loud)
What the fuck are you doing here,
Charlie?

CHARLIE (O.S.)
Oh you're back. Thank God. It's
been lonely without you. Thought
maybe you got eaten by a bear or
drowned or something. Where are
you? I'm making some coffee. Want
some?

INT. LOG CABIN - MORNING

Damian and Charlie sip their coffees.

Will's perched on the bed, his rifle aimed at Charlie's feet.

CHARLIE
(to Will)
You can have some. It's good.
Picked it up at this health food
store. Don't worry it's fresh.
Organic and fair trade...

WILL
I don't drink coffee.

CHARLIE
Well, it's here if you want it. I
mean it's like really...

WILL
I won't.

Damian slams his coffee on the table.

DAMIAN
You can't be here.

CHARLIE
I know, yes. You keep telling me.
This island must be messing up your
memory. Is this island like the
island from Lost? You know the TV
show?

DAMIAN
Never saw it.

CHARLIE
It's all supernatural. Creepy.
Only seen a couple of episodes.
Induced the worst insomnia. Had to
stop watching it.

Will leaps off the bed and signals for Damian him.

DAMIAN
What?

WILL
Outside.

EXT. LOG CABIN - MORNING

Damian and Will sit on the last step, huddled close.

WILL
You invited him. Didn't you?

DAMIAN
Will...

WILL
You just want to sabotage this
whole operation.

DAMIAN
Don't be ridiculous. The man's
obsessed with me.

A lump wells up in Will's throat.

WILL
I thought you'd fix this shit with
Kate?

DAMIAN
She's stubborn.

Will cracks the step with the butt of his rifle.

WILL
This is fucked!

DAMIAN
Calm the hell down! And loose the
rifle. He's not gonna kill us.
He's a neurotic comedian.

EXT. ISLAND WATERFRONT - DAY

Damian rolls the row boat right side up onto the sand.
Pushes the boat into the water. He then hands Charlie the
oars.

DAMIAN
Get in.

CHARLIE
Oh no, no. I need a life
preserver. How can I get into a
boat without the extra security?

DAMIAN
Charlie...

CHARLIE
Fine!

Charlie fumbles onto the boat. Once settled, he jumps off
the boat. Kicks and screams in the water.

DAMIAN
Charlie, what's gotten into you?
C'mon now. Get the hell back in
the boat.

CHARLIE
No, I can't. I love it here.
This is my dream island. It's
where I'll channel Tolkien. Trust
me. Give me a month. I'll stay
out of your hair. I promise. Just
a month.

DAMIAN
No.

CHARLIE
What's you mean no? You're
leaving and that's that.

Will jumps off a boulder. Tosses his rifle to the side.

WILL
Damian, let him stay.

CHARLIE
Really? Oh God, I love you! Ho
lord, I love you...

WILL
There are conditions, though.

CHARLIE
What kind of conditions?

A Little Blurb on the True Inner Voice

The seemingly endless search for one’s true voice. Yesterday I heard mine. It terrified me greatly. In time, you will see this voice beaming through the writing. In the meantime, I’ll post more of the script which I had titled Descent.

INT. LOG CABIN - NIGHT

Only a few items are illuminated. A rusty lantern. A
clouded up mirror. A clay mug.

Glass SHATTERS.

A hand reaches through the open pane, turns the knob.
Someone stumbles through the dark, ignites a match which
powers the lantern. Light fills the room.

Damian approaches the bed. Shakes the lump underneath the
wool blanket.

DAMIAN
Hey. Why was the door locked?

Will, shirtless and half asleep, crawls out from underneath
the wool blanket.

WILL
What?

DAMIAN
You didn't hear me come in?

WILL
No.

DAMIAN
I had to break the glass. Why was
it locked?

WILL
It was locked?

Damian moves further into the bed.

DAMIAN
Yeah. Move over.

WILL
You're here so late.

DAMIAN
I got here as soon as I could.

Damian sprawls out on the bed.

WILL
You stink.

Will crawls over Damian, reaches for the cooler. Pulls out a
beer. POPS the cap off.

DAMIAN
Where the hell'd you get that?

WILL
The store.

DAMIAN
Which store?

WILL
(laughs)
The store.

DAMIAN
Got another?

Will hands Damian another beer. Their fingers rub against
one another.

WILL
What's up with your hand?

DAMIAN
Ah, it's nothing.

WILL
Grabbed the honey locust, didn't
ya?

DAMIAN
Something like that.

WILL
Didn't think you'd make it.

DAMIAN
What? And leave you here to rot?

WILL
I wouldn't rot.

DAMIAN
Will, listen, there's someone else
here.

WILL
Here?

DAMIAN
Not here here. On the island.

WILL
Who?

DAMIAN
I don't know. A figure ran past
me.

WILL
Human?

Damian nods.

Will takes a wrinkled shirt off the floor. Reaches for his
boots.

DAMIAN
You can't be serious!

WILL
We gotta find him.

DAMIAN
I just got here. I wanna sleep,
man.

WILL
Then sleep. I'm gonna find him.

Will rushes out the door.

EXT. LOG CABIN - NIGHT

Will pulls the floorboard off the porch. Retrieves a rifle.
Grabs a hemp satchel loaded with bullets. Tosses the satchel
over his shoulder. As he steps off the porch, a hand stops
him.

DAMIAN
I'm coming with you.

WILL
Thought you wanted to sleep.

DAMIAN
I do. Let's go.

EXT. RURAL ROAD - NIGHT

Damian reaches out, preventing Will from walking any further.

DAMIAN
It was right around here.

Will pushes past Damian. Cocks the rifle. Disappears into
the brush.

DAMIAN (CONT'D)
Will! Where the...

Damian follows after him.

EXT. WOODS - DAWN

Damian lags thirty feet behind Will. At a boulder, he stops,
leans against it.

DAMIAN
Will!

Will doesn't stop.

DAMIAN (CONT'D)
C'mon, dude, what the fuck! We've
circled this island five times.
The sun's coming up.

Trembling, Will stops. He turns back at Damian. Charges
after him. Pointing the loaded rifle at him.

WILL
Did you see a figure or not?

DAMIAN
Yes. I'm pretty sure I did.

The rifle inches from Damian's forehead, Will cocks the
rifle.

WILL
I could kill you.

DAMIAN
I know, Will. But you won't. You
need me.

Will lowers the rifle. Shuffles in uncertainty.

WILL
Didn't meant to...

Will falls to the ground. Tears drip down his cheek.

DAMIAN
It's fine.

WILL
No, it's not. I don't like what
I'm becoming.

Will tears the rifle off, throws it over a stump.

DAMIAN
It's only temporary.

WILL
Bullshit.

Will crawls over to the rifle, throws it over his body.

DAMIAN
Onward?

Continuation of Script

I have this tendency to take what’s already written and do an overhaul. Although I’m trying to get out of this pattern, it’s essential an overhaul occurs. Why? Something else presses me…

Memories from my most recent job. Although it was rather nightmarish (for four years, every day, nonstop), I’ve decided to take a satirical look at it. The characters from the Descent script will be transferred over to this more personal story.

In the meantime, I will continue to post the script in the order in which it was written. Here it goes —

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

               CHARLIE, unshaven and bug-eyed paces the room.   An unlit
               cigarette dangles in his hand.  He charges at Damian the
               moment he enters.

                                   CHARLIE
                         My God!  That woman with the nice
                         hair, didn't seem happy to see me. 
                         What's up with that?  Oh, she's
                         your lady friend you were talking
                         about.   How's everything going
                         with you and her?  

                                   DAMIAN
                         Just peachy.

               Damian pours some whiskey into a glass.

                                   CHARLIE
                         "Peachy"?  Great word.   Listen,
                         I've been up all night, man.  I
                         just figured it out. I should say
                         fuck it to comedy and write books.  
                         Adventures like Tolkien.   What do
                         you say?  I mean like fuck, Damian,
                         I'm not getting any younger.   You
                         know my birthday was on Tuesday. 
                         Turned thirty-one.  Not that you
                         care.

                                   DAMIAN
                         Want any?

                                   CHARLIE
                         What?

               Damian raises his glass of whiskey.

                                   CHARLIE (CONT'D)
                         Alcohol?  Are you crazy?  It's like
                         12:15.  What the fuck man?   Why
                         would I want to drink?  I barely
                         ate breakfast.  Just a tiny bowl of
                         Greek yogurt with bananas.   You
                         ever have that combo?   Greek
                         yogurt and bananas?   It's great. 
                         You should try it.

               Damian takes a seat at the head of the conference table.  His
               face stricken with horror.

                                   CHARLIE (CONT'D)
                         What?  You're scaring me.   Stop
                         scaring me.   You're looking at me
                         all weird.

                                   DAMIAN
                         Charlie, I need you to shut the
                         fuck up and sit down.

               Without hesitation, Charlie takes a seat.

                                   CHARLIE
                         Okay.  Hi!  What's up?

                                   DAMIAN
                         I'm dropping you.

                                   CHARLIE
                         What? I thought we were tight man. 
                         Aren't we friends?  What's this all
                         about?  You can't be serious.  How
                         is this possible?   

                                   DAMIAN
                         I'm dropping everyone.

                                   CHARLIE
                         You're not suicidal are you? 
                         Please tell me you're not suicidal. 
                         If you're suicidal you should get
                         some help. Lots of help.  
                         All sorts of professionals out
                         there that can help you with this
                         kind of stuff.  Tell me you're not
                         suicidal.

                                   DAMIAN
                         I'm not suicidal.  

                                   CHARLIE
                         Wooh!  Well, that's a relief.  But
                         you're dropping everyone?   Why?

                                   DAMIAN
                         It's time.   

                                   CHARLIE
                         Time?  Time for what?

               EXT. WATERFRONT - DAY

               The day couldn't be cloudier.

               Damian, in torn khaki shorts and a fluorescent tank top,
               drags a row boat on the muddied sand.  He heads toward the
               crystalline water. 

               The boat catches onto a hump in the sand.

               Damian tugs but falls forward.   He leaps to the front of the
               boat, lifts it from the hump.   Continues pulling the boat
               toward the water.  At the water's edge, he jumps in the row
               boat.  Paddles away.

               EXT. RURAL ROAD - EVENING

               The pavement's cracked.  Regardless, Damian, out of breath,
               saunters about.   Knapsack slung over his shoulder.   

               A dark figure runs across the street.

               Fatigued, Damian grabs a tree branch.

                                   DAMIAN
                         Hello?
                             (beat)
                         Shit!  

               Damian yanks his hand off the branch.  Blood pools up on each
               finger.  He licks the blood.

The First Two Scenes

As promised, here are the first two scenes:

BEGIN DREAM SEQUENCE

INT. SCHOOL CORRIDOR - NIGHT

Rusty water drips from the ceiling down the wall.

DAMIAN, late 30s and polished hair, steps out of the way,
keeping one eye glued to the ceiling. He brushes any water
off his bloodied suit. Undoes his pitch black neck tie, uses
it to clean off the hardened blood.

YOUNG HEAVY BREATHING approaches.

Damian drops the tie as a half-naked child crawls on all
fours.

The child looks up. It's WILL, athletic and at the age of
twelve holds the promise of becoming a good-looking man. He
bears a shit-eating grin, clearly enjoys the situation.

WILL
Hard at work?

A gun raises. Seconds later, it FIRES.

Will laughs, unaffected by the bullet.

Damian attempts to fire another round. Nothing happens.

WILL (CONT'D)
What's wrong, Damian?

END DREAM SEQUENCE

INT. DAMIAN'S OFFICE - DAY

Blurry image of KATE, blond-haired, hovers above. Her
youthful, well-shaped thighs slowly come into focus. Damian's
hand rubs up and down her legs.

Kate pushes his hands off her, steps back, defensive, clearly
disgusted with Damian's behavior.

KATE
Please.

DAMIAN
Why not, darling?

KATE
You're drunk...darling.

Kate tosses an empty mini bottle of vodka into the trash bin.

Damian swings his legs off the desk, adjusts his tie.

DAMIAN
What are you doing here?

KATE
Worried about you.

DAMIAN
Ah.

KATE
Some guy's here to see you.

DAMIAN
Who?

KATE
I don't know. He's in the
conference room.

A Roaring Welcome

Dear Readers:

The week before Thanksgiving, I sunk into the worst depression ever. The descent rattled both my physical and mental health. I did everything possible to stop myself from falling deep into this pit. Called family and friends. All they could really say was, “I love you. We hope things get better.” As warming as that might be to hear, I still hit rock bottom.

Once there, a voice spoke to me. It said, “If you’re a writer, then just write! Screw what Syd Field and Robert McKee preach. Get something, anything on paper. Doesn’t matter how fucked up it is. Just fucking write.” The next day I started work on a screenplay. I had no clue where this was going. I wrote three pages a day. This, in conjunction with St. John’s Wort, proved to elevate my mood. By the third day, I titled the piece, Descent (named after my descent into the worst emotional state I can remember. More on the title in two paragraphs).

On the twenty-fifth page, questions started taking over. Why is the boy character, Will, so hated by everyone except the protagonist, Damian? What is the relationship between Damian and Will? Upon reaching the bottom of the thirty-second page, I stopped. Didn’t know what kind of story I was telling.

While my mind ruminated for further story ideas, I stumbled across an article entitled “The 15 Biggest Cult Films of the Past Five Years”. The third biggest cult film, Descent. “Shit”, thinks I. Time to rethink things. No better venue to rethink things than a blog. This blog shall be called Descent into My Creative Mind: A Rather Absurd Journey.

This is how it shall be laid out. Excerpts of the script shall be posted whereupon the next day or days later analyze the piece along with discussing where the scene(s) could go. Occasionally, I’ll insert random fictional absurdity that has nothing to do with script. Some days, I’ll embark upon philosophical ramblings.

I ask you, the reader/follower, for honesty. You have something to say, say it. Don’t hold back. Thank you and enjoy this blog.
–Eric Sazer