Oswald was a fag.

Ok. This is killer. I have an opportunity. A GRAND opportunity. Someone in the industry wants to read my script, with the possible intent of purchase for production. Not a reader, not an agent. A full-fledged, working actor, with his own production company. And here I sit like a mouse in a hollow log, desperately trying to see if the owl is still hovering overhead. Afraid to make a single move for fear of dooming myself. I made that ego comment yesterday, but forgot to mention how it is tempered with self-doubt. Just write.
Just write.
JUST WRITE, DAMN IT!

But it's not enough.

It takes work. Hard work. And while I am familiar with the concept, it's not something that I pride myself on. I'm lazy, and scared. Co-dependant attributes that truly feed off one another. When you are lazy, it's easy to blame your lack of accomplishment on fear, and when you are afraid, lazy is a nice hot bath to take comfort in.

I know that my story is great. I know it could be huge. Can I write it? Will I write it?
Where's that ego when I need it?

manic 

Long time listener, first time caller.

In an attempt to document my life through prose, poetry, lyrical mayhem, tomfoolery, ballyhoo, and all that, I've moved on from my feeble home-based leather-bound attempts into a digital field that might just keep me honest. Of course, I also thought that buying a copy of Final Draft was gonna turn me into Christopher McQuarrie. In any case, it should be interesting to see my line of progression from dilettante to supreme master of the Doogie Howser computer journal sect. Plus I have tried unsuccessfully for years to keep it a secret that I have a huge ego, and now I can go back and read and re-read myself to my narcissistic heart's content.

The only negative affect is the temptation to remove the more embarassing vittles of my story through post editing, which is a fully available feature of this ingenious device we thoughtfully call "the web" (with little or no irony, considering how we first practiced to deceive). So I am going to make a promise here, which should be treated like that of an incumbant candidate. I know I'm trusted a little, and also expected to lie a little. In either case I'll do my best for complete discolsure and honesty to a fault. Hopefully anyone I know who dips into this shitstorm of words will still respect me in the morning.

Oh, and look for rhyme long before any reason enters into the picture.

James Francis Hunt
manic till death 

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Here we are, the farthest west I've ever been. Passing a Holiday Inn in Chicago a sign read "The Journey is the Reward." Somewhere else along the way Scott quipped, "It's like those people who see Jesus in a potato." So far, not a bad trip. We drove straight through to Sheboygan, Wisconsin and spent the night there. Stopped in Green Bay today and saw Lambeau Field and the Packers Hall of Fame. I was standing amongst three NFL Championship trophies. Unreal cool. The Twin Cities are enormous and impressive. Tomorrow we'll stop at the Mall of America. What else could people from Jersey do? Also gonna hit up the Metrodome. The skies from GB to here were immense and filled with stars. I really needed this time away.

Happy Stinking New Year

I have to drop out of school and get a second job to pay my bills. Mom and Pop are sick of carrying my sorry ass. I don't blame them, I would have given up on me a long time ago. They are the energizer bunny of unconditional love. Spent three days last week at Shawnee. Had a great time snowboarding and got to see Tanya for a bit. I can't get Nikki of my mind. She's smart, fun, ambitious, great looking, sexy as all hell, and 19. I see this ending badly.
I saw Rushmore on friday. This movie was INCREDIBLE. It's the kind of thing that makes me want to make movies. This saturday me, Frank, and Scott leave for our 9 day road trip extravaganza. Minnesota here I come.

Interesting couple of days. Thursday I went to my first poetry slam. Ran into John Allen. I got roped into judging. There was some really good stuff there. And then there wasn't. Sick of it All and Vision was awesome. Sunday I saw American History X. It was a really good movie, but there was a fire drill about 20 minutes in that really fucked with the experience.
I need to get this screenplay out of my head and onto the page. Money is tight and Christmas is coming. What else is new?

Saw a preview for Star Wars Episode I yesterday. Can't wait for the movie now. Still anxious to try the snowboard. Been working on my final project for TV class. Hopefully I'll get a first draft of the script done over break.
Going to see Sick of it All this friday. It's been over two years, far too long. Been doing the retro thing and listening to a lot of hardcore lately. Remembering the "good old days."
Yeah, right.

It's been a year. I've been at the Trentonian since April. It's a good job, but the new publisher is fucking it all up. I've been sweating this girl Nikki at CD World for a few months, and I actually asked her out. She said (and I quote), "I'm seeing someone, not a boyfriend, but I don't think it would be right." The not a boyfriend thing has puzzled me for weeks. I got a snowboard. Can't wait to go. I miss Brian terribly. I'm such an asshole for ever joining the army. I've wished he were here every day since I got out. Going to Mercer County College. And maybe one day I'll finish my script "A.D." But, once again, I'm not going to hold my breath.

I am the most despicable person in the world.
If self-loathing was an olympic sport, I
would be an horrific amalgamation  of
Jesse Owens and Jim Thorpe
This new acid is the worst nightmare
It burns without leaving a scar
We need the scars
They are badges, tougher than our skin and lies
They protect us from the next time...
"I'll know better"
This new acid seeps in through the
gaps in our memory, the faults in our
logic, the pores in our skin
And there are no symptoms and it
just keeps burning.

a locked mental ward @ Ft. Benning, Georgia

the doors are locked
the lights are on, but dimmed
the phone rings the walls are neutral
noting septic or sharp
outside, people are building, or tearing down
the deconstruction of this place is a
fantasy that leaves me smiling
maybe that's because I'm not used to
doors that lock from the outside

maybe I'm being taught instead of treated
or maybe I'm making an example of them
I can't hate these people because I brought this on myself
But I am not above spoiling them so that
life hurts when they grow up