Friday, October 30, 2009

Reclaiming the Fire

At this point in my life, I seem to be circling back to what I love. For a long while, close to about five years or so through high school and starting into college, I didn't draw. For reasons I somewhat understand, my life just took me away from my love of drawing. I still remained creative and still pursued other avenues of my life, but I didn't draw and I lost something in the process. I wasn't entirely myself and I am saddened that I lost that time. I fear what my life would've been had I not kept going and been creative in other facets of my life. Had I not gone to writing and film and eventually into improv and attempting play-writing. I found this old blog post from my Myspace account and felt that it was a good way to start off the process of re-claiming my identity. Without further ado, here is an old blog post from Myspace (dated June 3, 2006)

For the past two and a half years, I have been making films regularly and for the past year I have made it my career goal. My whole life, I have been creative and this is how is the history of my creativity.
     It started with the adventures Tweety, a stuffed Tweety doll whom was my best friend for most of second grade. He was the beginning of my obsession with being creative. I picked up a ton of books about animation and started on my way to becoming an animator. I couldn't really draw, but that didn't stop me. I just drew all of the time. I eventually made a small series of books about Tweety and the adventures him and all of the other Looney Tunes got into. One of the supporting characters was my other stuffed animal, my bear Teddy (the same bear featured in "Light Conversation"), who eventually took over my drawing focus. I spent hours with Teddy and his gang. To most people, they were just doodles on my homework. Big headed bears with little bodies that took up my time. Hardly anyone outside of my family knows how vast of a universe I made with them (and they only think I just had a lot of characters). But it was an actual world for me. I knew the relationships of all of the characters. Teddy, of course, was the main character. His best friend was Daniel, or as he was known, Duncey. Duncey always had a hat on and that started out as a Dunce cap only. Duncey's twin sister was named Luann and she was the love of Teddy's life. I have never said this, by she was based on the at the time love of my life, Justine Heston. Then there was Blinky, the brain and his brother Bobo, the jock. Then, the nemesis was found in Leon and his gang (whose names escape me). Then there was Downer and his brother Eerie and then Charlie, who was Teddy's cousin. And in another section was Teddy's brother Johny, who had an imaginary friend, Rex who worked for an imaginary friends corporation (complete with a Perry White/JJJ hard-ass boss) Nobody has any idea how many false starts I had on what was to be their epic "Teddy's Adventure", a road trip epic that had Duncey fall in love and his love die because she fell off of a cliff (because there has to be drama) and Teddy finally revealing his love to Luann and getting her. It would've been awesome. 
    The only creation to rival Teddy in time spent was The Dumb Snowman. What started off as a dumb story (pun intended) about a snow man who kept getting destroyed (which I loved to illustrate), became a franchise with four total books and eventually became my first cross-over with the Handsome Cherry, a character created for a writing contest in sixth grade. The cast of The Dumb Snowman was crazy (not to be confused with the Crazy Snowman). It was as follows: The Dumb Sonwman, The Normal Snowman, The Dumber Snowman, The Dumbest Snowman, The Scary Snowman, The Mental Snowman, The Smart Snowman, and The Cool Snowman (who no one liked). They even had an awesome van that they drove around in. 
    Around sixth grade (the year that led to a bear building and I got to make the yearly felt poster that was a tradtion in that class. On it: a big headed bear as the focus), I discovered one of my idols, Charles Schultz. That is when I knew what I would be: a cartoonist. I would make comic strips for a living and it would be awesome. I also discovered my all-time favorite strip, Calvin and Hobbes (if you have never read Calvin and Hobbes, stop now and go get it). I dove into comic strips and got tons of books on it. This led to multiple creations. The most notable is Leonard the Dog (or Leonard P. Dog). A slight rip-off of Garfield (maybe more with Get Fuzzy now), but it involved a dog and his owner and a bunch of Leonard's brothers and Wesley, the dwarf bear who the meet when he is holding a sign saying: Will Work for Pants (which he gets and wears for the rest of the strip).It also had my favorite name of a character, Coupon. I just liked it. Then there was Crossed Wires, a science comic strip and my other favorite: The Radicals, whose ideas I am slowly using in movies. It was about a group of freedom fighters fighting an slightly evil but highly eccentric mastermind, Patches (he had an eye patch). 
    And finally we have the period that is still kinda with me, comics. The greatest of American exports (when done right), comic books are so cool. Call me a nerd, call me dumb, but comic books can be as powerful as a no pics book any day of the week. But I discovered comic books my eighth grade year, when the book store, Jj Perry's was closing and everything, including comic books. I snatched up a ridiculous amount of books from there and ate them up. My focus went into writing comics. Not good ones, but it got me going. I poured hours into not studying into just thinking up all kinds of crazy ideas and it was fantastic.
    When I am editing a video, I am still creating. A lot of people think that the way a film is made is writing a script and filming it, then you piece it together. Nope, the way a film is made is in editing. That is when everyting comes into place. It doesn't matter what you have written and what is filmed, when you edit a film is when you bring it to life and there is hardly any work out there more exciting then bring film to life. To see an idea surpass what is in your head in real life is what of the most satisfying feeling you can feel and with film, I am constantly able to do that where I failed with all my other outlets. I was born to be creative and have found my oultlet to do it and I got an award to prove it.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Love...Naked by Trevor Reece

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The light of the sun is what wakes me. Its not dawn, but the sun is finally coming up over the hills, which would place the time at around half past 7 in the morning. We didn’t get to sleep until six. I’m not normally a morning person, even on 8+ hours, so this is especially hard to fathom.

And yet suddenly, I don’t care. There she is.

As cliché or non-poetic as this may sound, it feels like a movie. I can’t recall a time in which I have had feelings for the girl I’ve slept with. That’s not to say that I’m not attracted or felt the small butterflies of love when I talk to the girls, but I always know, even if it is faintly in the back of my mind, that it is not going anywhere. But that has never been the case with Justine.

We’ve known each other for a while now. I’ll be honest; I fell for her instantly. We were at Big Pop’s, this local, piece of shit 24 hour restaurant with a couple of friends. She was new to the group, but there was something about her that made it feel like she had been there the whole time. Because of how fast I fell, I had to make a move. But also because of how hard I fell, I only wanted to be sweet.

You see, I have a reputation of being a bit of a ladies man. I don’t get every lady I see, but I try to hook up with every lady I see. It usually involves my wit and charm, which come and go at various times. But now I wanted to act like I was in Junior High:

Do you like Charlie?
__ Yes
__ No
__ Maybe (you always add the “Maybe” because she really likes you if she checks it)

So, I did what any 23-year-old guy would do: I shot a spit wad at her. A beautiful shot, I might add, right between the eyes. At first, she was completely taken aback, locking eyes with me as if I had just insulted her war hero grandfather. But then she grinned like The Joker before his plan is hatched and fired back. She hit me in the eye and it hurt like a bitch. But that didn’t stop the fight. I fired back and like a magic bullet, it managed to end up her nose. Our group collective lost their shit at this one and we were linked from that moment on.

I didn’t want the usual things with Justine. I wanted to brush back the loose strands of hair that got in her eye. I wanted to stay in that perpetual drum roll before the kiss, just to hear her breathe.

But I also experienced something I hadn’t in a long time: actual butterflies. I would nearly piss myself anytime I got a text from her and found myself smiling ear to ear with every little thing she said. My roommate commented on my weird smiling habits, but I didn’t take the time to explain the situation. I left my love life to myself.

There was only one problem with the situation. She only seemed to view me as a friend. Try as I might to get her to notice me, she just seemed to just want to be friends. We went to dinner several times, but split the check. We went to the movies, but she paid for her ticket and bag of Skittles (which she said she always needed for her movie watching experiences). We watched TV for hours on end at her place, but there was no hanky-panky. It was like I was the gay friend whenever I tried to make a physical move on her. She would treat me like her brother if I put my arm around her. But she let me in so deep.

The night I had just woken up from was not the first time we had stayed up til the early morning. The first month of our friendship, we basically knew everything there was to know about each other. I let her in on my secret obsession with The Beach Boys, how I regretted not seeing my grandma before she died, my hatred of mayonnaise, how I always wanted to be a painter for a living and how I love Christmas lights more than my father. She let me know that she wanted to go to Israel, why she wears plaid so much, what happened to her father, why she loves Bob Newhart and what her perfect pizza would be.

But despite all of this, we remained friends. She went on dates (which I never told her secretly drove me insane) and I still met girls at parties. I imagine that they were all Justine and that led to some awkward name swapping a few nights. My sexual desires had shifted. I only wanted her and any other girl was a terrible substitute. Then last night happened.

It was my friend Chuck’s birthday and if there was a person who threw one hell of a party, it was Thomas Chuckstein, Chuck for short. It was a crazy experience. The music, a mix of the shit that is on the Top 40 lists and Chuck’s favorite, Led Zeppelin, was deafening. My theory was that Chuck was encouraging alcohol and drug use because being intoxicated is the only way to be able to handle Lady Gaga and “Kashmir” playing back-to-back. I was there with Justine, mixing drinks for the both of us, having stolen a bottle of vodka and some grape soda from the fridge.

We were in our usual groove of talking about our days as well as commenting on what was going on around us. But after about fifteen minutes and two shots of this ritual, the scene changed because the perfect mixture of slut and hot walked in the door in the form of Amy Arkley. My eyes were fixed on her. Despite how many guys she had been said to have been with, she was still considered the Holy Grail for most guys, a slutty prize to be won.

I found an excuse to leave Justine, knowing that I wasn’t going to be getting any action from her, and went to Amy. We had a class together last semester and had talked at length after class a few times. That’s usually all I need to get something going. We did a shot of tequila and I picked my hand slowly rising up her hourglass frame. Her skin was glass, perfect and without blemish, a great addition to the belt notches.

If I had looked at Justine, I would’ve seen her the most pissed she has ever been. Lucky for me, Justine is a woman of action. Just before we went for shot number 2, Justine grabbed my glass and downed the tequila like it was a cure for cancer. She then kissed me softly and pulled back just slightly and said “If you want to make me jealous, please don’t use skanks to prove your point.”

I thanked Amy for the lovely talk and Justine and I went to claim Chuck’s room for the night.

We didn’t even make out that night. All of our kisses were tender and had purpose. They were delicate and precise. There was no ounce of hormone in either of us, no foreplay to be had. It wasn’t about the act, it was about what it represented. Justine had told me that she was a virgin and that she would only sleep with someone she was in love with. I knew that and knew what this meant. She didn’t need to say it, nor did she ask of it from me. We were just there. There was nothing outside of our two bodies and we treated existence in the same way.

I had never held a naked body before that night. She was my first.

When I woke in the morning, she only had her underwear on. She was topless and I only felt love for her. She was beautiful and that was only driven home in the light of the new day.

I don’t know what will become of us. I just know that it feels like I’ve come home when I am with her.

I finally spoke up. She was a little startled, but smiled sweetly at me. This is the start of something new. But for now, I just wanted some breakfast. Justine felt the same way.

Gone by Trevor Reece

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Never like this....

The darkness peering inside my soul. He is out there and I am the failed dam.

The burden, taken up in crisis. I am impotent against evil.

Unsung, without honor.

Punishment is fitting, poetic justice. As the madness takes them all, I am (was?) the watcher, silent against atrocities. Alone in my viewing.

Mind fading into new identity. The weight of the world sliding away, a phantom's charge is now the wind.

I am you now. Faceless, unknowing of the light. We will turn to dust together.

I make my final wish to God. I used to know his face, but now I distant, alone.

"Make it right," escapes my lips as strength susides. This is the end.

Cardboard in hand, adorned in ink. A scribbled plea. My new mission is here.

I just want a dollar and bottle of Jack.

Bliss is mine once again.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Willing Slave by Trevor Reece

Photo by zemotion
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Like a wave
She seduces me
Curves calling to me
As they delicately cling to the fabric
Bated breath is in
A perfect sync
With the slithering of her cold body
My dark goddess
A ray of black in the sea of light
She has a hold of my soul
Can One be a willing slave?
Heart beat skips like a rock
Her fingers crackle as they move
A feather in the breeze
And I smell death
My beautiful ballerina
My precious prize
Who knows her as well as I?
Grasping at me tighter
Tasting the ruby from her lips
The forbidden is suculent tonight
But she pulls back
She alludes me as her dark eyes grow wide
Truth is in her grasp
As she dances, my slave
Dancing for her life
I will long for her
Thus I keep her
Like the chains on her ankle
Aging to dust am I
Fading beauty before my queen
Knowledge fades and I am safe
Her eyes roll back again
The dance continues on.

Monday, October 5, 2009

33 by Trevor Reece

"Blueberries and Yogurt"
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So, I write for this blog called "1,000 Words." The premise is that every week, we'll put up a picture of something of interest from and we'll write about whatever story the picture inspires us to write. My friends, Dave Gerhard and Mike DiGrande, and I came up with the idea after seeing Neil Gaiman in San Francisco a few months back. The story of this event is also on the Teddy the Bear blog (with pretty pictures too). This site has been kept up by Mike, with contribution from Dave and myself as well as a few of our friends. It is a great creative outlet and I would encourage people to look into it. I've fallen back from posting on it and missed a few weeks, but there are some stories that I've written that I am a fan of, if only because of how personal they are or just that they are funny. I'm gonna use Teddy the Bear (and other shenanigans) to make up for not writing that week and post my writings here. So, this is called "33" and it is from the picture shown above. All instances in which real life is mirrored in this story are completely intentional.

33, 34, 35…

I’ve begun to count the blueberries every time she said the word “lonely.”

I’m up to 35. I still haven’t said a word to her.

“I’m sorry that it happened this way,” she says almost convincingly. “I was just so lonely that I needed you around.”

The best part about being dumped in a public place is, if your heart isn’t ripping apart at the seams, you can really savor the awkwardness of the whole situation, just as I was planning on savoring the vanilla yogurt in front of me. I have never seen blueberries look so good in yogurt. Both the situation and the yogurt look delicious.

This person, in my case Elly, has decided that she was going to break up with me because it wasn’t working for her. So she decided to meet in a public place to lie out this life-altering situation, which is for her protection from me voicing my opinions with using the volume and diction I would prefer to use. Breaking up in a public place is the definition of self-interest.

Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck about the patrons. While its not their fault that she came up with this plan, everyone knows that pain of heartbreak and excuses normally rude behavior. But I have an ace in the hole. I know why she is breaking up with me.

Thanks to Kyla, another ex-girlfriend (but that is different story all together), I’ve known for about two weeks now. I’ve known about her fucking Brad and all that and how they were going to be dating soon. All that garbage was old news at this point. Elly and I had talked about it a few days ago and she denied it, but I trust Kyla. There is something about the first girl who lets you see her boobs that builds trust.

And that brings us to why it is a good thing that I know. I can control the situation. I don’t need to say a goddamn word because I have all the information. And so I can really savor the yogurt that was sitting right in front of me. It’s a plain vanilla, but the blueberries look like they were going to be the perfect compliment. It also helps that I punch a hole in my apartment wall when I found out the news that she was going to break up with me.

“I just need some time apart. I need to remember who I am outside of a relationship.”

Bullshit. We’ve been together three months. I take my first bite. Oh Lord, thank you for blessing me with this yogurt.

“I don’t want to string you along and make you think you’re in something you’re not.”

A one-sided relationship? In the middle of unrequited feelings? Sister, being in the middle of that has been old hat since the second grade. God, I want to fuck this yogurt.

“I just need to see what is out there for me, but that means breaking up with you and that hurts me so much.”

I almost spurt out some venom, but it seems such an unkind thing to do in the presence of this yogurt.

She sits in silence, waiting for my reaction to this shocking news of our imminent demise, but I let her suffer in not knowing how I feel. I remain silent as well and slowly crush a blueberry’s juices out between my teeth. I don’t trust my acting ability to pretend to be saddened by all this, but I am focusing all of my energies on enjoying the yogurt. I begin to position myself as if to talk, knowing that she has been waiting to hear how I am taking the news. She needs validation that she is a good person.

That isn’t going to come from me. I open my mouth, as if to speak, only to pick up a napkin and clean off some of the yogurt. I bring the spoon to my mouth and enjoy another bite. She sighs. “Would you please stop eating the yogurt and talk to me? I need to know how you feel and you are just not even present in this. You are paying more attention to the yogurt than you are me.”

There is one bite left. I scoop it up and stare her straight in the eyes. “This yogurt wasn’t fucking Brad.” I lick it clean and walk out. Nobody disrespects a dessert that delicious. Especially some skank.