1993 Florida Journals: Letter

THE

GODS

AREN'T

LOOKING,

SO

I'LL

WRITE

QUICKLY

...

My Miranda, The palms are swaying like beckoning fingers in the balmy Florida breeze, the tiki gods are rearing their heads over the horizon, and exotic bird calls waft on the wind across the miles to you. This letter is so fucking late, but a) I only yesterday bought typewriter ribbon, B) I hate writing letters longhand (as I find that my thoughts are much too fast for the pen) and c) I am a cad. But take solace! Your revenge has already been celestially taken: I forgot correction tape. All errors in this letter are solely the fault of the author and are not in any way endorsed or condoned by the publisher. Thank you. It is, today" September 13, and my morn, in a phone conillersation earlEEer today, said that it was fifty and raining. All day it was sunny and ninety. Here, that is. And 0 what a day it has been! Sit back, I'll fill you

In. To start off, I didn't get any sleep DiX last night, as I stayed up wi th dear Robert until 3 AM ~ (I.. need correction tape!!!) dicusffiinga screenplay that we are in the midst of writing. It's an intense story concerning chess, wicked bisexual youth, and yuppie pedophiles. If it's made, 0 what controversy! It will be slammed by organizations everywhere! Why? Because Bob and I are MERCILESS!!! In seriousihess, if it comes out the way we'd like, it'll be a smashing story. The only thing we have set in stone are the first two scenes which, as a preview, I am sending to you. We have some characters· planned out (including one based on Sara and whoa nelly does she get hers!), but details are very foggy. What you will read was an image that Bob was saving for a story: that of a kid in a playground telling a cop that it was all fun and games until another kid's eyes popped out. As story discussions waxed and waned, it seemed like a good idea to open the film with a variation on that, and I took it from there.·· So ifX it sucks, tell me, as it is most likely my fault. Unfortunaeel y (for you, anyway) you shan' tsee the remainder of the screenplay until the very finish, as this is a quirk both Robert and I share. But I'll give you hints of progression in furture letters. Anyway, back to The Day. Let's see, okay. It was around 3 AM when I went into bed, but couldn't fall aslwep. ~ Around four I remembered that Disney was holding character auditions at 9 AM. It was then that I decided to pall an all-nighter. I kept myself company by typing short and stupid plays in faux XMK Shakespearean language .• And then it was off to breakfast and the audition. To make a long story short, after a grueling six hour audition,X I was cast asK a character in the Magic Kingdom park. Chances are I'll be {joofy. Ain't dat poetry? So much to discuss! Ah, yes. With debts chashing in around me, I have taken a second job. I now moonlight as a host at the SAK Theatre Comedy Lab, downtown. It is fun, it is funny. And pretty soon I I 11 be able to join the improv~Oe(t:etJG troupe. And theball get I sa-rollin' •.. Along with the warm breezes and nighttime chanting of the Aku-Tiki X natives, there's a bug floating around here. Hence, I am robbed of my voice. It started out as just a simple little sore throat, now I just can't funcitonwithout my hourlyM fix of Chloraseptic (well, actually, the Walgreen's equi velent, Ora Relief). And in thet last parenthetical addendum (!) lies am interesting tidbit: Walgreens (the 24 hour Perry drugs of the South and subsidary of Wal-Mart) has, like Arbor, their own nJ.{M line of generic drugs. However, unlike Arbor, Walgreens~ gives

their generics cute little names -- by taking the brand nameproduct, cutting the brand name in half, and then adding Wal in front of it. Thus, Robitussin becomes Wal-tussin; Dimetapp becomes Wal-tapp; NyQuil becomes Wal-quil. You get the idea. We've kind of made it into a game. You can have a lot of fun witht he Wal game. Try it ... tonight! How's the ap1'frtrnentwith T-Popp (Wal-Popp?). Too much raucous fun yet? Has she killed you in the morning? She wrote me and told me that she will have to restrain herself, as she is a morning bear. I want to hear all the Ann Arbor news. Found amyhippie communes? Burned any hippie communes? All the A2 memories eegin to flood: Schoolkids (Wal-kids?), Video Watch, Orbit. Waaaah. Okay, fit over. The point is, pet, is that I love Orlando. Orlando (Wal-ando?) is really rockin'. I want you here. I want 'fracy here. I wal (oops, Freud error). I want all of you here now. Tonight. Share in the coolness. Bask in the sun. Darken. Wrap your head in a gMmesh babushka, don cornecat-eye shades and hop a pink Cadillac down 1-75 to the turnpike, down to Kirkman road and straight to mywaiting arms. Life lb.ereis a lovely mixture of non-Beach Boys instrumental surf music (I even got CUTIS on my body from being'thrown on the rock at Jensen Beach last week!), Martin Denny (1 950's Tiki exotica, ~ courtesy of Bob1, Julie London (ask your grandmother), and the Breeders. What a lovely place! V\1hata lovely vibe! What a lovely life! Can you spare a dime? Corning soon in the ~ mail will be Scooter Bentley's. Florida Music Compilation NumberOne: The Arrival. Oh, and to quench that quizzical look on your face, everyone here calls me Scooter. It came from the Muppets and everyone says I look like the Muppet Scooter. I don't se~ it, but they do, and I like the name. So Bob and I are goin' round as Scooter Bentley and Johnny Refund. Sound gooda me. Hey! Have you heard of Answer Me!magazine. It's an ugly mag devoited to all-around hatred. Anyway,Bob has a copy with an arti~le that tries to prove that Stephen Spielberg is a boy-lover. It's 2CK called -- get this -- Pederastic Park. Don't you love it? Myfriend Rob Shapiro (an My idea, his art. :n;: animator-"Ett'e collaborating on a bootleg shirt. It's a tie in ~ shirt for Vlassic Park, featuring the stork and a big pickle. With music by the Sculpted hair Experience. So much fun. Get thee here. Tongue Tracy for me, then say my name three times and masturbate, because it wcm't be your fingers that tuchin' ya -- they'll be mine! Once again, sorry the letter's so late, and so dorky. I'm just a shit-ass letter writer. But I really don't thank you care about that. Tell Tracy I'll write her too, and look for Scooter Bentley's Florida Music Compilation. And hope you likeS scenes one and two of the as yet untitled movie. Yours from Pederastic Park,