East Meets West - a film script

Ext. Deserted South Texas highway.
Near sunset.

FADE UP
The sun hangs low in the western horizon of the Texas oil-fields bathed in hues of copper and multitudes of gold.  A lone miniature oak tree casts a shadow thrice its height over parched pasture grasses, cactus and nettle.  Four weary long-horn stand vigil over their watering hole while chomping lengths of sun baked hay.  The air ripples with heat and bears the rusty groans of the hulking oil wells peppered from horizon to horizon.  One rig nearby, drenched in rust and tar, groans in monotonous exertion.  The sunlight is momentarily blocked by the nodding "donkey well" as it dips doggedly.  Again the sun pierces in shards of blazing light as the horse head ascends, returning to its elevated perspective. 

A flash of pitch coupled with an engine's roar snap the otherwise quiet Texas country side .  The 1966 jet black Lincoln Continental barrels past the four head of long-horn.  The beasts' dark, fly encrusted eyes follow the specter as it screams down the Texas artery never missing a metronome precision chew of their cud.  The sleek "clap-door" is pristine save for the crumpled front fender smeared red with blood, hair and bone fragments.   Also - - the hood is caved in and the passenger side windshield is a spiderweb of cracks splintering the setting sun's rays in a million directions.  A lone figure dressed in an ebony suit, white shirt and black tie faces the setting sun, both hands adhered to the steering wheel.  Disco-ball refractions of sunlight from the mangled windshield glint playfully on the driver's inky sunglasses.  A swatch of red light roams the back rest of the empty passenger seat - the sun light piercing a large but rather neat blood spatter on the windshield.  Silently the crimson patch saunters south to the empty seat where it meets gold and explodes into a shower of orange reflected sparks.  The Samurai sword is sheathed in an unassuming, not so gently used black scabbard.  Not flamboyant like the knock-offs purchased at American flea markets.  This sword has been passed from father to son for generations and looks every bit the relic that it is.

A hand gently moves the sword into the driver's lap and away from the laser red shaft causing the eruption of light to extinguish.  The driver's black coat and white shirt sleeve ride up briefly revealing the Yakuza tattoo cuff around the bronze, hairless wrist.  The hand glides back to the steering wheel.  The driver's square face is unconcerned as the Continental's unmistakable linear speedometer passes 120 and goes out of site behind the reflective aluminum panel.  A piercing screech overtakes the thunder of the motor as the monstrous vehicle fish-tales in response to the break-pedal being driven into the floor board by the size 13 black Brunomaglis.  The Lincoln drifts into a turn north on to a forgettable dirt road.  A gale of stones and choking dust engulf the back-end as it tries to find its footing on new terrain.  The headlights spike the roiling cloud like two white swords hacking this way and that in time with the vehicle's gyrating.  She finds her gripping and rockets forward, still swerving, still in control.
FADE BLACK


Ext. Paso oil rig.
Near sunset.

FADE UP
The Paso oil rig is newer than most.  The horse-head dips and ascends with little more than a well-lubricated hum.  Not completely unravaged by the elements,  patches of rust have infiltrated the worn white paint like a chain of dark islands in an ashen sea.  A bus sized reservoir tank hunkers nearby, sloppily painted like its repetitive mate with the word "PASO" centered and emblazoned with red block letters.  Perched on top of the tank is the figure of a man.  His blue-jean covered legs flop to and fro, boot-scoot'n to a tune he hums under his breath.  His boots, dulled with dirt,  leave wakes of airborne dust as they strut through the air.  He wears a sleeveless white t-shirt complete with the faded cartoon character Calvin smugly urinating on a Chevy logo.  He takes a long gulp from his Shiner beer bottle.  The man has to tip his sweat stained cowboy hat back with his free hand to finish it off.  An air of accomplishment illustrates his tan, stubbled features.  Flipping the dead soldier in the air and catching it by the neck, he throws the bottle.  As the flashing missile flips away into the quickly fading light, a feint whistle signals every rotation.  It collides with the ground at the feet of a second man and explodes into a cloud of glittering shards and granules.  The first man smirks and re-adjusts his hat.

2nd man

 Watch it! You sum-bitch!  Shane, that ain't cool man!

Shane

Crack baby!!  Cody - (pointing) why don't you peddle your dumb ass 

over to that cooler and get me another beer before he shows up.

Cody

Alright.

Cody sheepishly does as commanded and wanders to the blue and white cooler stashed next to a stack of steel pipe.  Tall and skinny, Cody sports a layer of stubble that covers his unexceptional features shadowed by the brim of his green John Deere trucker's hat.  His button-up, electric orange shirt stained with oil and wear looks one size too big for his thin frame.  His faded jeans droop off of his hip bones revealing a pocket of emptiness where is hind-end should reside.  His jean cuffs are split at the seam and torn from being continuously stepped on by his well past their prime Redwings.  Cody kneels to open the soiled lid and searches through the ice and bobbing empties.  A sliver of light cuts the nearby darkness with a train of hurtled sand in tight trail.  Shane snaps out of his planted dance, his penetrating gaze affixed to the veering intruder.

Shane

Cody!  Forget it.  Get over here...he's coming!

Cody ceases rooting in the ice and looks over his shoulder, letting go of the cooler lid.  Anxiety and purpose shade Cody's features as he sprints to the tank.  Shane slides effortlessly to ground from his roost atop the tank.  The single light becomes two on the golden horizon.  The dull murmur of a pushed to the limit motor increases in volume over the motions of the oil well.  Shane reaches into the waistband of his pants and retrieves a Smith & Wesson .38 special.  Shane instinctively clicks open the barrel to check his ammunition, flicks his wrist sending the barrel back to the firing position and cocks his weapon.  Cody's eyes widen in distress when seeing the gun.  Shane slips the gun back into his waistband.

Shane

Never bring a knife to knife fight...right little brother?

Cody nods in coerced agreement.  The headlights of the black Lincoln smear the darkness nearby, kicking up a spray of gravel.  The vehicle fishtails to a stop some 20 yards from the two men.  A fog of sterile dust envelops the black beauty in seconds.  Shane and Cody soon succumb to the haze too, waving their hands in front of their faces as if such action might actually work.  The high-beams cut off diminishing the unnatural electric glow of the smog.  The motor of the Lincoln Continental shuts down followed by stillness.  Cody and Shane steal a glance at each other, questioning with their eyes the inaction from their guest.  The pendulum movements of the droning well are deafening in the tension laced, swirling grit.  The clicks of a door handle and squeal of dirt-caked hinges startle the well's frictionless chorus.  The droughty soot begins to find it's way back to earth revealing the Lincoln and a hulking figure standing next to her silhouetted in the dissipating cloud.   

Yakuza

あなたは、それを持ってしましたか ?

(Japanese: Did you bring it?)

Shane

Now...you know we don't speak Chink.  If you're asking

about the case...it's safe.

Yakuza

それはどこですか ?

(Japanese: Where is it?)

Shane

I told you...We don' - -

A flash of light and a deafening explosion gash the still.  The gun shot's echo reverberates inside the oil tank like the clang of a church bell.  Shane's head recoils from being hit.  His body flops to the ground in a mangled pile like an unmanned puppet.  Cody's eyes pop with terror while falling to the ground to aid his brother.  Shane's eyes gaze upward, lifeless.  Cody twists his head in the direction of the shooter - his face a haunting mix of horror and rage.
(PICTURE FREEZES)

Voice of Cody

I guess he didn't bring a knife to a knife fight either.

(PICTURES UNFREEZES)
Cody picks himself up and bolts into the darkness.  The Yakuza holsters his weapon in his coat, strolls in front of the Lincoln, now a viscous gray from the Texas dust. 

Voice of Cody

My day started out pretty shitty.  But...I suspect it's about...

The passenger side door screams opens and the Yakuza reaches for his sword.
(PICTURES FREEZES)

Voice of Cody

...to get a whole lot worse.  Looks like the knife fight is with me. 

(PICTURE UNFREEZES)
He grabs his blade and slams the passenger side door.  Cody runs without thinking or breathing.  He's in flight mode, swinging his head left and right when possible, looking over his shoulder for signs of his pursuer.  Panic driven inhaling and exhaling reverberate the barren pastures as the last traces of gold drain from the Texas night sky.

FADE BLACK

dissolve title:  24 hours earlier...

The Heard - Presentation

Slide 1

Digital Sanctuary, a global media design company presents…

Slide 2

A leap forward in the way we enjoy, share and experience music.

Slide 3

The Heard.  The title implies two things.  The first and most obvious is that conveys listening to various things.  2^nd, it implies that it is a collection of things – and that is what I find most exciting about this project.

Slide 4

This application is going to be released on Apple and Android operating systems simultaneously.  Too often there is a disconnect between what is offered in the Apple App store and what is offered on the Android market. 

Slide 5

We want the Heard to be a music information destination for mobile users.  What that means is we want the Heard to do what 4 or 5 separate and unrelated applications will do and more.  Let’s look at some the functions we’re talking about…

Slide 6.5

The Heard will provide what others cannot.  The features include:

A Live Calendar - which I’m going to discuss in more detail in a minute. 

The News tab – which will troll the web for news on specific artists or genres user defines.

Discographies – giving the user the ability to see what artists have produced in terms of records or appearances. 

The Box Office – giving the user the ability to buy tickets.  I’m going to come back to this one in a minute also.  It has some exciting possibilities.

Radio – we’re in negotiations with Spotify to partner with them to allow users to experience genre/artist defined music.

The Media section will allow users to be exposed to images and video of their favorite bands. 

Slide 6.7

What makes this application different and ground breaking is how it can be modified to the user’s tastes using three distinct components.  The user can employ their location and designate a defined mile radius to keep them informed as to performances they may like to see in their area.  Second, the app can be further refined by choosing a genre or genres the user is interested in.  And third, users can keep a list of favorite artists that will populate each of the tabs.

Slide 6.8

This brings me to some of the exciting features The Heard has.  Let’s take a closer look at the Live Calendar.  It gives the user the ability follow their favorite artist or genre simply.

Slide 7

The calendar will populate itself with artists based on the user defined mile radius of a location, genres they have chosen as well as specific artists.  The user can click the day they are interested in and will find…

Slide 8

Access to maps and directions to the venue, the venue’s phone number, reviews of the venue by other Heard users and links to performer’s web site, venue’s web site, etc.

Slide 11

Another exciting element of The Heard is the Box Office tab.  Here users can buy and reserve tickets to their shows in a snap.  What makes this function unique is the…

Slide 12

Digital ticket feature.  Users have the option to download a digital ticket to their device which will be honored at the venue. 

Slide 13

The revenue stream for the Heard has three distinct parts.  The application will be available in 2 formats.  The first being a free version with some limited usability and opportunities for advertisements.

Slide 14

The Paid version will be advertisement free and has a purchase price of $2.99.

Slide 15

Third, a onetime service charge will added to any ticket purchase when users opt for the digital ticket.  This option is especially relevant to the environmentally conscious.

Slide 16

The Heard - Funneling multiple resources into a music rich experience and one mobile application. 

Executive Summary

With the explosion of mobile applications, plans are in the works to launch a new cross platform application called "The Heard".  This app is being designed and produced by Digital Sanctuary with worldwide offices located in Seattle, Berlin, Rio, Osaka and Johannesburg.  As the application's title suggests, this will be a music information destination application like no other on any mobile or web based platform.  Users will be provided with a GPS sensitive Live Calender, Discographies, News, Box Office, Media, Radio Station and more.  The idea being to funnel everything a music lover may want into one stylistic, modifiable application.  Revenue streams will be threefold.  Two versions of the app will be delivered to market.  The first will be free with advertisement placement opportunities.  The second version will be advertisement free but will cost an initial purchase price of $2.99.  Third, for users purchasing tickets through the Box Office portion of the app - a one time service charge will be added to the total purchase price.  The purchaser will have a paperless, digital version of their ticket sent to their mobile device which will be honored at the venue.  We are looking for financial backing in this endeavor and would like to invite you to participate.  In addition to the cost of creating the app, we plan to advertise heavily on the web, on mobile and satellite radio for maximum reach on release.  For this reason we are asking you for a one time investment of $50,000 which will afford you 10% stake in the app and its dividends.  Thank you for your interest and we look forward to taking the music and app world by storm with you as a valued partner.        

Jimmy Buffet - Savior of Our World

I'm back.  A bit defeated but never fully.  I spent most of last week working on graphics for the PSA I did for Media Production.  Something that I really enjoy doing and admittedly avoiding the things I did not.  I had an idea for a series of graphics for the project that were difficult to pull off.  I love a challenge - in the graphics world that is.  Obviously I didn't write much.  That doesn't mean it wasn't out of mind.  Quite the contrary.  We were spending the week on the Texas coast.  My wife would catch me in a stare while at the beach or pool and ask, " Are you thinking about writing again?"  She knows me well.  I was experiencing writer's remorse, or grief or whatever they call it.  I spent my time pondering - what can I write about?  No rush of ideas would come.  I sat at my laptop late at night and would try letting words pour out free association style.  Didn't happen.  So let it be known that I wasn't not doing the work - I was experiencing brain lock.  Not a broken spirit.  A neurological short circuit if you will.

I started to write about an experience I had while taking a sunset tour of Aransas Bay.  I have four barren attempts saved in the depths of this blog.  It is here that I want attempt again.  My family joined 30 people on a dinky two-level boat traveling to the outer banks in search of dolphins and a stunning sunset.  Captain Jake - a professional fisherman and part time tour guide piloted the vessel from the top of the boat.  A rather plain fellow and not at all salty like you might imagine.  Salt and pepper hair, clean shaven, electric pink t-shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops.  He had the air of construction foreman about him - a problem solver yet unassuming.  As we pulled away from the dock - a very familiar sound reached my ears via the set of radio-shack speakers bolted to the four corners of the below deck ceiling.  "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffet.  The sound was scratchy and over-modulated as if cloaked by a layer of salt, sand and rust.  It was, sadly, still recognizable.  It occurred to me that I've heard this song in similar situations.  Bars in Orlando and Miami.  A catamaran cruise my wife and I took while honeymooning in Barbados.  Numerous snorkeling expeditions in the Bahamas and Caymans.  Even a bus tour in Hawaii.  This song is everywhere and tightly wound in beach tourism culture.  I just sniffed at the song and went above to get away from the annoying noise.

Now, with my feet firmly on terra firma I began to think why is this song so prevalent.  Is it because the tour guides really like the song?  Or, more likely, that the tour guides have a certain rotation of music that they think the tourists want or expect to hear?  I wonder if Jimmy knew what he was about to unleash on countless tourist destinations.  I'm sure he didn't.  He was writing a song that spoke to him at that moment in his life.  I haven't researched where he was mentally when he wrote this song.  Perhaps I need to.  He probably wasn't in a funk though.  I wonder what he would have produced if he were going through a nasty divorce, the death of a child or taking a writing course at that point in his career.  Certainly not Margaritaville.  And what song would be in its stead had that song never been written?  We'll probably never know unless time and multidimensional travel are discovered.  And even then - would scientists want to discover something as mundane as what the world would have been like without Margaritaville?  Doubtful.  But it's the miniscule details around us that shape our world.  Perhaps without Jimmy's songs - the world might have been plunged in to a thousand years of darkness.  Who knows.  The next time I hear his music - I'm not going to grimace.  I'm simply going to say, "Thanks Jimmy."  Thanks for saving the world as we know it.                 

Elevator Pitch #2 - The Union

I'm interested in starting a new website for news production professionals.  Its seems to me that as there is an extreme equality issue in terms of pay scale for those behind the camera versus those in front.  These people have agents that will search out jobs and negotiate salaries for them.  Producers and directors have to rely on themselves and are usually at the employer's mercy for salary.  I'm proposing to build a community of behind the scenes professionals that can collectively negotiate a better wage than they could on their own.  This web site would give the subscribers job leads, resume tips, access to work shops and negotiation services.  This would be an invaluable resource for these struggling folks trying to make a career in broadcast television.  There are other sites that are job boards - which we'd be providing too.  The major difference is that we'd be able to collectively negotiate better wages for folks that fit certain levels of criteria.  Employers would know what level of professional they'd be getting while employees would know what they're negotiating potential is based on skills learned.  These individuals would also be able to learn what criteria they would need to fill to move up the pay scale.  This kind of web service would be a volunteer union without the pay period dues.           

Elevator Pitch #1 - The Heard

I was window-shopping on the android market the other day and noticed an entire series of apps that are designed as a news gathering source for specific smart-phone models.  That made me think - why isn't there a series of popular music apps that are honed to specific genres of music?  It could be called...The Heard.  I want to create an application that would be a music exploration and information destination.  For example - I like punk rock.  I would download the punk rock version of The Heard.  Once there, the app would provide news, media and links in reference to the punk genre.  What sets this app apart is the band specific search function.  Once a band or artist is chosen,  the user would be presented with a series of buttons: Live Calendar, News, Music, Media, Discography, Radio, and Tickets.  Utilizing search engines - the app would import information found as a series of articles, lists or a calendar that is populated within the confines of the stylistic application.  For example, the calendar would populate with tour dates and destinations.  It would also highlight dates that are within a set number of miles from the GPS determined position or preselected city.  The calendar would also give the user the ability to find venue phone numbers, maps and other concerts on the venue's roster of upcoming events.  You get the idea.  Really hone an app that is literally a one-stop shop for the music lover.  Whether they are interested in seeing a band live, seeing a video interview recorded ten years ago or learning about the groups members.  It could be a place to find all things music and tailored to the user's musical tastes.      

Another Sucky Cover?

                                                   Maryslim - 'This Corrosion' featuring Jyrki69 of The 69 Eyes
I usually don't care for covers.  I especially detest covers of songs by my beloved Sisters of Mercy.  This Corrosion was the song that introduced me to the Sisters.  I remember listening to This Corrosion on repeat - by myself, in the dark, and chemically enhanced.  What made things interesting in my condition, the song was on cassette - so I had to fumble the rewind button each time to repeat.  Not my usual style, the Sisters are not exactly punk rock.  The Sisters are the god fathers of the Gothic movement.  A melding of English post-punk and glam-pop by the likes of Joy Division, The Damned, Bauhaus and Siouxsie and the Banshees.  Interestingly the German underground culture glommed onto this genre and in my opinion ruined some incredible music.  Bands with names like Sepulcrum Mentis, Dreadful Shadows and Babylon Will Fall created a tribute to The Sisters of Mercy album.   Dressed in shadow and siting direct lineage to Vlad Tepes these androgenes kooks slither in slow motion behind a permanent bank of artificial fog.  The singers of these bands give Barry White a run for deepest voice while encouraging their listeners to slit their wrists in a cloud of white facial powder and pagan spells.  Who can out Dracul the other.  It's all about the theatrics - not about the music. 

It was with some hesitation I decided to give the Maryslim version of This Corrosion a run through.  These guys hail from Sweden and though they aren't German, I was still expecting another vampire suck fest.  They brought Jyki69 from The 69 Eyes  on board to sing a duet with Maryslim.   This version is considerably rocked up compared to the original.  Jyrki69's growls in the deeper registers while Maryslim's frontman sings a couple notches shy of falsetto.  Together they make the song their own and it is awesome.        

Words

These past few weeks, hearing my voice has become more demanding to discern among the whispers and groans darting about in my head.  Listening to the voices of others have become rather difficult as well.  I'm not sure if it was a happy accident or evil genius, grouping me with two sports writers to whom I have nothing to say. While one writes with clarity and cleverness both blogs make me want to eat a hollow point.  It has nothing to do with their ability or creativity.  It's the topic that drives me to thoughts of snuffing it.  Perhaps my topic has the same effect on them.  And that's probably the lesson here.  By learning how to critically read content that, down the simplest biological terms, holds no interest to us - we can ourselves become better writers.  

I don't have anything to say with words.  I have plenty to say with the visual.  If I wanted to write in my present field I'd have been a news producer.  I definitely have the aptitude for it.  I can copy and paste with the best of them.  What interests me are effects, animations, 3D, editing, graphics - anything visual.  The content that I fashion these effects for is another story and one I'd like to distance myself from.  I wretch every time I use one of my effects to transition to yet another overnight house fire video.  Or punch up a mug of a nouveau zombie who, high on bath salts, prefers dining on another man's face.  My objective: to get out of the news business but to continue expressing myself with video and graphic design.  There are plenty of outlets where positive media is produced and none more prolific than the web.  My interactive voice will be seen, not heard or read.

   

I'm not a music critic and I don't claim to be.  But I'm glad I got to play one.  My friend whose band I had the honor of reviewing loves my piece.  I may try to have it published on a punk rock web site in the near future.  Still, my interactive writing voice seems muzzled.  It hasn't stopped me from focusing on the quest.  My plan for this program is twofold.  I want to teach video production at the university level.  I also want to leave myself open to other opportunities that come into focus as the program trundles along.  Among careers not sought - writer.  Most especially after this experience.  If part of the plan is to separate the wheat from the chaff - then consider me chaffed.