A Story should have

A Beginning

A Middle

and

An End

....

But it doesnt always

need to be in that order.

A Beautiful Accident (short story)

***Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength***

     The light wet snow was hitting his wind shield as he drove down the black glass street in his plum colored ‘Saturn’. He grabbed his iPod and put on a song taking in all the aspects of Eddie Vedder’s vocals and the rest of Pearl Jam.  His mind was lost; so much stress had been taking hold of him. However, as he rode down the long street next to the mountains his mind became one with the road. He fixed his eyes on the dog park he was approaching, and as he entered the parking lot he lightly patted his friend on the back. Maybe not a human in form, but greater than a human in heart his dog Axel licked his ears as he eagerly noticed the location. He made his way up to the big friendly tree with Axel and got out his camera and notebook. Every so often Axel would have to leave behind a ‘property signature’ to large landmarks such as big plants, rocks, and trees.  Such things made him chuckle, he looked back to his notebook and began to write. He wrote about life and how the rude waves of the ocean must make way for the great wave, a tsunami. He wrote about hate and how the world was leading towards a war not of technology, but of hatred towards one another. He wrote about love, and how even he has been touched by the wickedness of a woman, the fear and lust that followed the dip into the unknown. Most of all he wrote about hope, about relationships. Such things, even if just fiction, found him dreaming of a world he chose to get lost in for a few precious minutes.

     The Charlie Brown theme started to echo around the baron dog park and he and Axel looked at one another before he answered it. With the blue phone to his ear he began to speak to his mother and was being sent on another ravaging quest to deliver the following ingredients to the house from the store down the long stretch of road. He had to force his dog back into the car treating him like a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted, and also ignoring Axel’s grumpy looking face squashed up on the dash board he made his way to the store for his mother.

     The parking lot was as crazy as usual, after a few minutes he parked the car and said goodbye to axel. As he made his way to the metal bars to grab the last cart another hand made its way to the cart. He looked up to see a blonde girl staring back at him with a confused smile. She laughed and let him take the cart until he offered it back. He made his way to the cash register when the Charlie Brown theme echoed amongst the frozen food section. He answered to hear the voice cracking of his brother. After a slight argument with his brother he made his way to the cereal section to get his brother’s desired ‘Cinnamon Toast Crunch’ when a familiar person grabbed the last.

                “Ok this is just weird!” He said with a smart ass voice.

                “Oh my god I know” she said “This is a sign!”

                “Of course” he said with a smile

      Slight warmth filled his heart as he walked away.  He turned around and watch the girl walk down the hall knocking down a couple boxes before turning around red cheeked and looking back to him.  What was apparent to him was that he had a choice; he had a few seconds to do what was going on in his head. Life is made on choices, it’s made on seconds, chances that few people can make but when they do they either fall, or rise. He grabbed the second best cereal he could find before rushing through the cashier which seemed to take hours. He barely caught the girl walking out of the store when he saw his whole future flash in front of him.

                “I was wondering, would you like to get a coffee or something?”  

     She looked down to her feet before looking up at him, her green blue eyes reflecting off the sun. She smiled and looked at her phone. With a quick debate in her head she nodded.  Something reached her mind, the same thing that reached his, it was the idea of destiny, about fate, and something that became very clear as they spend twenty five minutes at coffee shop down the block was that this world is made off of relationships. This world is made off of simple people entering other simple people’s lives. Yes, they are simple but they make amazing things. These relationships can be hard, they can be enemies, they can also be a simple hello on the sidewalk from a stranger. What makes it a relationship is the positive or negative difference you had walking away from it. And as he drove away from the coffee shop with her number in hand and tea in the other he smiled to himself. An accident, that’s all anything, really is.

               

    

Judge me you bitch.

Writting Challenge

Write a story based on what you think of when you hear this song. I have decided to go back and forth and next week you pick a song. One with the least words the better. Deal? This is a writting excersise I read about and I want to try....

Immortal Thought

     His fingers were shaking in the cold despite his red gloves, the grey maroon scarf kept trying to be taken by the wind and he had to keep pulling it closer to his corduroy jacket. The young man kept his eyes fixed on the people in front of him, not caring about the cold, or grades, or parents, or teenage girl gossip, he just kept his golden green eyes fixed on the scene in front of him, his scene, his own writing, his own mind bleeding through the lenses and into his camera. It was his own creation, his own baby, he was feeding it through the bosom of his mind, he fed it the milk of creativity and this idea, this small note on a algebra II note sheet turned into a weekend of imagination and possibilities. It didn’t matter that it would get the 3 views on YouTube or the 1 like from someone he didn’t know on Facebook and probably wouldn’t get him laid, but it didn’t matter, he knew that while everyone was getting smashed, high, dumped, and at a stupid dance he would be making history with his red camcorder and his buddies that shared his passion. The young man thought of the future, about his education. He thought about the people he looked up to. He thought of the emotion that went into the screenplay. As that thought came over him he checked the script, covered with dirt and a little wet from the damp ground. This obsession was something few can admire; years of people making fun of his knowledge of film and movie quotes he was going to show them what true creation can make, what true inspiration makes, what true originality can give birth to, and finally what being different can accomplish.

i

love

accidents.

period.

Boredom

is

my only

enemy.

To the one person who looks at my blog =]

You should listen to this before you do something hard. Even a penis :)

"What's wrong with death sir? What are we so mortally afraid of? Why can't we treat death with a certain amount of humanity and dignity, and decency, and God forbid, maybe even humor. Death is not the enemy gentlemen. If we're going to fight a disease, let's fight one of the most terrible diseases of all, indifference."

...

"i aM LOst iN a wORld OF creATivity,

AnD iNSanITY, yET i doN'T

waNt tO bE FOund."

~ME

(without sounding too cocky)

CHECK OUT MY NEW FILM!

A film about my views towards the virus known as love. A virus, I was happy to have gotten. 

A fool-proof method for sculpting an elephant: first, get a huge block of marble; then you chip away everything that doesn't look like an elephant.

Chapter 2

***Just me leaning up against a wall***

     It was a week since Cassy and Dan had broken up, in the past when a woman walked through his life it was hard for him to cope, but he didn’t feel the need. They only dated for a few months and even though he liked being around her there was always something, or someone to keep his mind off of their relationship. Dan looked around the subway as he rode it to Manhattan for school. He had already finished his four years of college but had started taking evening classes to improve his skill level in film. He also was working at the New York Times as a band review columnist, he liked the job but what really excited him most was working with film under his boss Mr. Peterson, who was a slowly rising director.    

     Dan had gotten a job working for him as a screenplay writer and on the story board team; he had seen Dan’s independent work and wanted him to work with him, besides money Dan was also learning the tricks that Mr. Peterson had to offer him. Dan liked Mr. Peterson, he had a very father like essence about him and maybe it was his salt and pepper hair or his loud voice, or maybe it was his the way he called Dan ‘Danny Boy’ he just felt comfortable with him. Mr. Peterson always thought of Dan as a son, during the gulf war Mr. Peterson lost his only son Frank and his daughter Talia never bothered to call him after she married out of high school. But Mr. Peterson thought Dan had a creative spark that few had.

     Dan started looking around the subway, which he always did to pass the time, he looked from the rich Manhattan folk to the young school folk like himself, he also looked at the ones who just road the subway to ride it. He heard a vibration in his bag and looked at his phone: ‘Guess Who!’ is all it said. Dan looked around hoping some sense could come into his mind as he looked out the windows into the cold tunnels of the station.

     The subway train arrived at the station and Dan quickly got out to avoid the confused tourists and old who liked to take as slow as possible to get out of the station; taking in as many sights as possible at 1 mile per hour walking speeds. He moved up the stairs and into the city, which was crowded with people, as usual. He made his way to the college after stopping by to get a pizza slice and started heading towards the brick school. The banner said ‘NEW YORK FILM ACADAMY’ and even though he had read it a hundred and one times he continued to read it.

     He walked into the chilly night after the class had ended and started making his way towards the subway tunnel. He went down and started hearing a man play guitar while a woman hit two trashcan lids together, Dan enjoyed the sound and wished it had been both warmer and not as late as he hoped; he boarded the subway. The ride home always seemed to go by like a second, a few people would go by and he would just sit and listen to his ipod. This time he was listening to ‘The White Stripes’ and he moved his foot to the beat of the kick drum. He closed his eyes and although he wasn’t sleeping he was taking in every element he could hear.

     He walked up to his apartment complex in west Brooklyn and noticed a girl sitting on the steps to the door; she had a grey coat on with a hood and all he could make out was her black hair, she had converse with band names written on them and had her jeans rolled up. Dan wanted to ignore her but for some reason something seemed just so familiar about her, he tried to see under her hood without making her insulted or creeped out. As he ignored his feeling and punched in the code to his apartment he felt arms around him as he opened the door.

                “’I am going to New York!’ He said this to me in high school, and of the people who actually went to their destination YOU did it!”

                “Laurie! Oh my god how the hell, I, WHAT ARE YOU, oh my god never mind come in!” Dan burst out with glee and amazement. Her name was Laurie; she had gone to the same high school as him and switched before his junior year but kept a great relationship despite the distance.

                “Well I missed you” Laurie said as she looked up as him with her eyes wide, even though her black hair covered most of them.  “I thought why not take a vacation to visit my buddy!”

Every Second Counts...

My YouTube Channel!

http://www.youtube.com/user/StreinjFilms?feature=mhee

Chaplin Speech w/ Inception Theme

"He said so much when he was silent, and made us silent when he spoke"

RIP Charlie Chaplin

'Tired Magician' Music Video

Check out my YouTube Channel!

Streinj INK Films

Judge not by the color of the flag, judge only by the way it is waved

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure

“I’m just a storyteller, and the cinema happens to be my medium. I like it because it re-creates life in movement, enlarges it, enhances it, distills it. For me, it’s far closer to the miraculous creation of life than, say, a painting or music or even literature. It’s not just an art form; it’s actually a new form of life, with its own rhythms, cadences, perspectives and transparencies. It’s my way of telling a story.”
~Federico Fellini

Don't Kill The Messenger: ANTI-MEDIA

“The media's the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses.”~Malcolm X

Take

my picture,

 not my

T-shirt.

Bitter Cold

***If you must love me, love my poor spelling and bad typing***

he looked back at his house as he walked down the street toward the park. the sky was grey and tips of grass were frosted with dead leaves trying to free themselves by the wind. step after step he tried to walk faster toward the spot the had agreed to meet at. but he couldnt, he felt the weight drag like chains grinding and crackling down the black pavement. he had reached the border of the park when he looked back at his house; I can easily just walk back and call her and just say my mom came home, sorry. ignoring this feeling he continued down the path that leads into the park. much more steap then before the path winded around 2 long dark trees who were reaching up towards the cold grey sky. it was at this point he saw her, sitting, alone on the bench under the gazembo. her bike was thrown down on to the stone steps as if she hurried to get under the wooden canvas and curl up to draw as much warmth as she could. And it was at this moment he felt the coldness of the dark outside world creap up my back. he quckly moved to zip up his jacket, only, he didnt bring it. h couldnt get out of the house fast enough. he had just rolled up his sleves and walk out the door like it was 70 degrees outside. his breathing was loud and visible turning into a cloud of smoke that a dragon would breathe. she hadnt noticed him yet even though he was only yards from her.
she smiled up at him as he hestedly nocked on the piller near her. what was he doing. before this time they always talked on the phone or over emails about our feelings toward each other but never face to face. he quickly sat down ignoring her "are you ok" comment. the truth was he wasnt ok. she could tell by my sad gaze that this boy wasnt liing when told her he was leaving her school. the truth was he never wanted to do this and his deadline was coming too fast. he only had a month before he had to deside if he wanted to transfer schools. after watching her show no emotion he quickly jolted up. he had more of a speech but she wouldnt be interested. im ganna go, i had more but it is just not important. he walked back around the dead trees and stopped. he just couldnt stop looking back. after he had come to his senses he ran back to her. STOP STOP he said calling her name out. she did stop and he could tell she didnt want to hear what was going to be coming from his mouth. every second seemed to feel like days he felt were being takin away. days he and her had the best days and the worst. he felt the hardship she was going through. he started to take slow steps back as he told her what he ment to say underneath the wooden canvas. she gave him her answer which would thrill anyother guy his age or in his situation. but htere was something about her answer that made him unconfortable. that sent a nasty shiver down his back slashing its way to his heart. after all he was the only one who could never tell when she lied.
and that long walk home was the longest he had ever taken to walk down one street back into his real life world. the world where he was a prankster and a douchebag, where he was the comedian and the smart ass. when he walked out of the door all he could think about was how much he hated the cold. but as he took hours to climb the four steps to his front door all he could think about was how much he would miss it. the biter cold.

Hollow, Wise, Foolish and Dumb

Who is the WISE man who never opens up because he knows it is dangerous? Who is the WISE man who never loves because he knows it is a trap? The FOOL who leaps without looking may end up where he has been wishing for all along, and the WISE man in the end is just the hollow-man.



Alone In My World

***Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask***

And I waited, the sound of thunder from above the basement where I slept. Even though It was cold I didn't shiver or fight my covers for more warmth. I laid there without a sound. I didnt move, I didn't breath, I didn't blink. I watched the clock as it slowly moved through time. I could see my breath flow through the air of the celler that I called my bedroom. And then the distant roars of thunder shook my lamp and it blinked helplessly trying to get out as much light as it could before...I...slowley...fell... asleep...and away i flew.
The noise of bitter laughter in the cold city of my mind rang out through the screaching wind. Deeper I went ignoring the wispers to turn back. Step by step I continued to go deeper through the puzzle of my mind. Like clay the civilians stood perfectly still as they stood in stance before what ever froze them occured. Even though they were frozen in limbo the feeling that they were watching me continued to race through my mind. Suddenly the sharp stinging of rain bled through my jacket. Something wanted me to turn back, but I didn't. I needed to continue forward and as I moved closer to my goal the elements fought me back. Not physicly. Emotionly. Photographs flow through the wind with the dead leaves. Each photograph more painfull than the other. And as the thought of giving up went through my mind a wisper rang silently through my ears. A wisper of a nameless fear. A wisper from the beast within my mind saying "come and see" and as I moved through the graveyard of memories I was takin back to moments this had happend before.
Finally I reached my goal. Some how I knew this door was the key I was trying to find. This had been the farthest I had ever gotten. So out of curosity I opend the door. Stopped in motion the rain drops stretch around the garden. And as I hit each one the painfull icey stink followed. And there it laid. The king chess peice straight up on the chess board alone without any company. I stretch my finger towards it and QUICK was the rush of energy that followed. Through my veins it brought life in me again. Hours I spent looking at the peice untill light flowed through the branches of the tall hedges that sorrounded the garden. Without thinking, I grabbed the chess peice and held it hard against my chest as I was swept through icey fog from which I came. Motionless I opened my eyes.

The L Word

***There is really nothing to be said, and by this I was left for dead***

“A poet is someone who
stands outside in the rain
hoping to be struck by lightning.”

Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'maybe we should just be friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love. There were even times I thought I would forget her. But forgetting is not something you do, it happens to you. Only it didn't happen to me.

A Speech for Them 'I Will'

I am afraid to say that I break the rules; I do this because I must see my limit, then exceed it. There isn’t much to say in times of darkness and torment, in fact there isn’t much that you want me to say, then again, fuck you. For almost all of my life I have carried everyone’s problems, for years I have lied for other people, and when one spark of happiness left I looked for another. I have been to rock bottom and back again, I have looked my guardian angel in the eyes and said ‘do your worst’ I have told the devil himself to ‘do his best’ I am what I am. The saints shall know me as you know me now. Lies and lies is what I am made of, to this I must admit, to this I am afraid there are no lies capable to shield what I have done to you. I wish there was, I wish that I could unravel the mysteries in the world and see the dangers that fall to me, I wish that I myself could save you as you have saved me, but unfortunately I cannot. If I may be modest for a few short minutes I must tell you that I do break the rules, I do tell lies, I do jump into the unknown, I have fallen head over heels for women in the past, why must I do these? Well, because I am me, I do these things because when I face times of great terror and pain I must hurt the only life I have in me to keep the life I carry. I am afraid to say that I must wait here a while; in the cold, in the pain, in the darkness of darkness, I must slay the inner demon I have dwelling, I hope that this will be my last battle, but one can only hope. The better term to use in times like these is not I am afraid, or I hope, or I must; the only words to say in times like these, is I will.