Born Again

Born Again
By Andy Brown

She couldn’t believe she played the game
Honestly thinking he wasn’t the same
He smiled and there weren’t teeth but fangs
Can’t contrast white and white
But to everyone else she was fine
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

So one night, words lead to fists,
He said he couldn’t stand any of this
Why was he mad when he cheats?
He storms out and says “I
Don’t believe this.” But wasn’t he a different guy?
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

And then one night she began to drink
To her youth and to her defeat
From a bottle with skull and crossbones.
She woke up, day two, from a pain in her side
Forced to realize there was nowhere to hide
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

Things looked up since then
She had met a different guy again
Who was unlike the rest.
She figured that she would give a try
They hadn’t got anything to hide
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

Another night she had long since dread
With a pre-conceived notion in her head
That he wanted more than she could give
And they fought, they laughed, they cried
They stayed safe and together that night
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

She told him she had been down this road before
Two times and she couldn’t go one more
Life can be kind of cruel like that.
He looked away, then laughed and smiled
Unable to understand the pain inside
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

He held her and told her it would be alright
That she could take anything from him she liked
That he was going to make it all better for her
She pushed him away and told him she denied
She wasn’t innocent despite
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes

She’s moved on since then
But he’s back where he began
Square one wasn’t that far.
He’s on his way home for the night
But she still has will to fight
She was born, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes.

A Boy Named Joshie

A Boy Named Joshie
By Andy Brown

Please, please, come in. Sit down. Would you care for a drink? No? How about something to eat? My wife is in the midst of making these just absolutely wonderful crab cakes. They are to die for. We have those with a little red wine, it really brings out the flavor. How’s work been? I hear we’ll be having a visit from the president of the company soon. Everyone’s minding their “p’s” and “q’s” for this one. Hmm, I wonder how we’ll do. How are the kids? They doing alright in school? That’s great to hear. As for mine, well one’s a real troublemaker, but we got him under control. He’s just at that age when he’s acting out. Actually I have this really interesting story I’d love to tell you about. Please, sit. Let’s get some more wine.
---
There were people everywhere. They were running back and forth. From where the boy and the old man were sitting, they could only catch snippets of conversations: “Honey, do you have the tickets?”, “Where’s the nearest ATM?”, “Diet coke, please.”
“Figures,” the old man sitting next to him huffed, “Another bunch of crazy kids being stupid. When I was there age you had two options, you either fought in ‘Nam or you were arrested doing otherwise.”
He turned the page of his newspaper. The boy’s eyes caught the front page, it read: “Three students killed in college shooting.”
They sat there, the two, amongst the bustle of the crowds. “Flight 97 is ready for boarding,” a ghostly voice said. Strange men and women dressed in nice business suits were running through the halls. One of the strange woman’s suitcase opened, causing a litter of clothing to jump onto the floor. Atop these was a set of pink panties. She quickly attacked the pile of clothes, blushing and spitting curses under her breath. The other people just stared at her as they passed. The boy didn’t think anyone actually noticed the pair of underwear, other than the woman. She was all embarrassed. She closed her bag and quickly ran down the hall to catch up with the other dressed-up men and women.
The boy turned to the old man, “I can touch my eye, wanna see?”
Before the old man could say anything, the boy pulled at his bottom eyelid and proceeded to poke at his eyeball. The man cringed in disgust and pulled his paper up over his face.
“Flight 97 is now leaving.”
The boy sat there for a moment, then began humming a song. His head was rocking back and forth and he was steadily drumming a beat on his leg.
“Look, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to read the news,” the man huffed again.
“Why do people read the news?” the boy asked, tilting his head, still drumming on his leg.
“To understand what’s happening in the world,” the man responded.
“Why are people so interested in what’s going on in the world? They have plenty going on at home.”
“Son, it’s our duty as Americans to understand what’s wrong with the world and how we can fix it.”
“Why do we have to fix it? Why don’t we spend our time fixing our own problems instead of everybody else’s problems?”
The man put down his newspaper. He inhaled for a brief moment, as though he was about to say something, but decided not to. He thought for a moment.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions. You have a name, boy?”
“Yup, it’s Joshua Fletcher Robertson, but I like Joshie.”
“Alright, Joshie, my name is Walter Green. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You want to see me touch my eye again?”
---
As you may have guessed, Joshie is our hero of the story. But we’re a little to far ahead of ourselves right now, let’s take a step back in time.
---
“Crash!”
Joshie’s eight year old hands brought together a Superman and a Batman action figure with such force that it made a loud noise.
“Joshie, stop all that nonsense. I’m trying to concentrate,” his old mother crooned.
The sun was low in the sky. Its golden-orange waves shone in through the windows. The small, square house was not unlike the others in the neighborhood. Each small, square house was perfectly spaced apart from the previous small, square house. Each lot was the same size, each with its own mailbox and its own shrubbery up the walkway.
Joshie sat in a small, square room hammering away at his toys. His mother was in the other room bent over a pot of boiling water. She was muttering something under her breath. Her blonde hair looked red in the sun. There was a mellow drone of a television in the background. From what Joshie could hear, it sounded like an old woman giving instructions to make something. His mother was desperately trying to keep up with the old woman.
There was a gentle breeze outside that caused a set of wind chimes somewhere in the neighborhood to jingle. A few birds quickly scurried from place to place in the middle of the street when suddenly a small car zoomed in. The sound of the little engine caused the birds to quickly take off. The little car zipped into the driveway of the small, square house.
“Daddy’s home!”
There they were, the three, sitting at the dinner table. It was silent. A long, rectangular table caused Joshie’s mother to sit at one end, and his father to sit at the other. Joshie was left to sit in between the two of them.
“How was work, dear?”
The scrawny man at the other end of the table shot up out of his seat. He grabbed his napkin off of his lap and threw it down on the table. He threw it with such force that his neck tie flew up over his shoulder. He huffed and his face began to turn red.
“You want to know how work went? I’ll tell you how work went. My boss, the fucking retard that he is, hired a new idiot to be my partner. The damn motherfucker doesn’t even know how to run Microsoft goddamn Excel. He’s such a fucking loser! The both of them can just go to hell for all I care.”
Joshie sat in between his mother and his father, at the long rectangular table in the small square house. He was looking down into his plate as though he would see something change if he stared long enough. He was pushing the peas on his plate back and forth.
“And then, you know what the motherfucker was saying? What he was saying was he was talking about how fucking great his goddamn kid was. Playing in soccer games and winning trophies and all that shit. And then he asked if I had any kids and I said I did but he’s too much of a dumb ass to win any trophies.”
“Honey, please keep your voice down. Don’t yell in front of Joshie.”
---
Of course, things didn’t get better for Joshie and his family. Countless nights he would be kept up late at night by the sounds of a poor woman and a monster.
---
The boy left the old man and boarded his plane. Before the boy left, he showed the man that he could touch his eye, again. The man didn’t look away this time, he laughed instead.
Joshie sat quietly on the plane. He had his headphones in his ears and he was dancing. Loud techno music blared out. A woman with a baby sat next to him. The baby was fast asleep, the woman, however, looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. The boy was pretending he was playing the drums. He held his hands as though there were sticks in them and began swinging wildly at the air.
“Hey,” the woman said, “HEY!” she was hitting his arm, trying to get his attention.
Joshie looked at her and smiled and proceeded to continue air-drumming. The woman pulled one of his ear buds out and looked at him sternly.
“Can’t you see that my child is slee--” the baby began crying. “Great, thanks a lot.”
People sitting all around them began complaining. There were a few soft “pings” of buttons on the ceiling. Joshie looked at the woman, puzzled, and pulled his headphones out of his ears.
“What’s all the commotion?”
The lady looked at him sourly, “you woke my child up! Now he’ll never get back to sleep.”
Joshie proceeded to look at the baby. The baby stopped crying. Joshie began pulling at his face and his cheeks. He made an assortment of funny faces and noises. The baby smiled and laughed. The woman just sat in sheer amazement. Joshie put his headphones back on and began air-drumming, yet again. The baby watched quietly and smiled. His hands reached out for Joshie and Joshie smiled. The baby laughed and then tucked his head back into his mother’s breast, and within minutes, fell back asleep.
---

Joshie woke up one morning and there were police cars outside of his home. The lights flashed blue and red through the windows. He arose out of his bed and slowly started down the hall. There were people everywhere. They were moving and pushing each other. There was a flash from a camera. He overheard snippets of conversations: “Died not but an hour ago,” “See the marks on the neck here? Strangulation,” “Yes, sir. Right away.”
Joshie looked confusingly around. There were an unusual amount of people piled into his parent’s bedroom.
“Joshie?”
He wheeled around to see an old woman.
“Granny!’
Her hands quickly swept him up and pulled him tight. His head was devoured by the woman’s saggy breasts. He tried to push away, but she pulled harder. She picked him up and took him outside.
“Granny, what’s happening? Where’s mommy?”
---
The airplane landed and Joshie stood in the middle of the Brooklyn airport. He looked around. Flashing lights blinded him. He pulled off his backpack and pulled out a small, square piece of paper. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Dear son, I have left. I don’t love your mother anymore. The life I was living was a lie. There so much left for me to do, and I’m still so young. I can’t be tied down. One day you’ll understand.”
---
“What’s the news, doctor?”
His grandmother sat in the waiting room, Joshie sat in the office. The doctor stood between the two.
“His mother’s death has taken a great toll on him. He’s having trouble maturing mentally. He still has the mindset of an eight year old. This is primarily due to the trauma the death of his mother and the leaving of his father brought him. He’ll be this way for quite some time. There’s not much we can do for him, he’ll just have to get past it himself.”
Joshie sat in the doctor’s office, all alone. He held his scuffed Superman action figure in his hand. He was pretending it was flying through the air. It was a strange sight, seeing an eleven year old boy acting as though he was eight. He had grown so much that he could pass for fifteen or sixteen. His long hair covered over his eyes. He was dressed in a green “Lucky Charms” shirt with a long sleeve shirt underneath. His blue jeans were dirty and grass stained.
---
He brushed a few crumbs off of his nice, clean pants. He folded up the tin foil with the words “Burger King” all over it. He stood up from the cold, hard, plastic seat and walked to the trash can. Joshie reached into his pocket and produced the small note once more. He reread the last line: “If one day you want to see me again, I live on first street in Brooklyn.”
---
“Hey there! What’s your name?”
Joshie sat in a tiny, hard, plastic chair. He was surrounded by many small children. They were all whispering amongst themselves.
“Joshie”
“Joshie? That’s a nice name.”
The sun shone in through the windows. It was early in the morning and the birds were chirping. The room smelled of paint and chalk dust. On the board were the words “Mrs. Jay’s fourth grade class.”
There was a low hum outside and Joshie’s grandmother walked out of the car. She stepped into the school through the large swinging doors. The school smelt of vomit and old textbooks. She walked down the hallway. Each step seemed to take her away from her destination. She stood in the doorway of the principle’s office.
“Please, come in. Sit down.”
Joshie’s grandmother sat across from a short, fat man in a suit. He smiled. The room was decorated with pictures of the man and his children. There was an apple on his desk. A file cabinet behind him was littered with cards. Birthday cards, holiday cards, and “get well soon” cards.
“We understand Joshie’s condition, and we’re willing to make the accommodations for him. But we’re afraid that he just doesn’t meet the requirements to move on to the grade level appropriate for his age. He’ll just have to repeat the fourth grade again.”
---
Joshie stepped into the taxi cab outside the airport. He had no luggage with him, and the driver found this to be very odd.
“Where’ll be, buddy?”
“152 Main Street, please.”
The car zipped down the road and on to the highway. It was quiet inside the cab, aside from the low hum of the engine. The radio was on and there were faded sounds of the news playing through the speakers.
“Hey, aren’t you kind of young to be traveling alone?”
“I’m fifteen and I’m running away from home.”
“C’mon kid, you cant run away from home. Here, where do you live, I’ll take you back.”
“I live in California.”
“Well that ain’t gonna work then. You got a name or something?”
“Yeah…it’s Joshua Fletcher Robertson, but you can call me Joshie.”
“Joshie, huh. You got a pretty unique middle name, kid. Where’s that come from?”
“I don’t know. It’s a family name. It’s like an arrow, you know, like the feathers on the back are called ‘fletching’. Ever seen an arrow fly in slow motion? It doesn’t fly straight. Well, it does, but it wobbles all over the place. Weird, huh?”
“You’re a strange kid, you know that?”
The cab driver turned around when he said that, but Joshie wasn’t paying attention. He was humming loudly and rocking back and forth in his seat.
“Hey, kid, you listening to me?”
---
His grandmother sat on the floor of her kitchen in her small, rectangular house. She was crying heavily. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. In her hands she held a napkin with scribbling on it.
“Dear Granny,” it read. It was written in crayon. “I’m going out for a wile. I will be bak very soon. Im taking my moneys that I have saved from my piggy bank. I love you very vry much. (heart), Joshie.” Underneath that were the words, “P.S. Don’t forget to feed Rover. P.P.S I love you.” And underneath that was the drawing of two stick figures holding hands.
---
Joshie stood before the door of a small house. On the door were the numbers “152”. He rang the doorbell once.
“Go away,” a voice from the inside yelled.
He rang again.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
The voice grew louder and louder until the door opened and the voice was matched with a body.
“Oh my God, Joshie! Joshie, what are you doing here?”
“You told me in your note, if I ever wanted to see you again, I could. So here I am.”
“And here you are, my son. What can I do for you?”
“It’s not what I can do for you, its what I can do for mommy.”
As he said this he brought his hand up by his head and threw it forward. His fist met his father’s face.
---
And that was the story of a boy named Joshie. Wild, isn’t it? What some kids will do nowadays. Oh, well, it’s almost time for dinner. Did you enjoy your wine? It’s a rare red wine, 1876. Amazing isn’t it?
“Joshua, dinner’s ready.”
Come, that’s our call. So, tell me about you. How are the little ones?

My White Friends

My White Friends
By Andy Brown

The sun sets and day turns to night,
She reaches out and turns off the light.
Dive into a cabinet, grab a bottle of pills
Damned if you do

Hours past and night turns to day,
But she’s already awake.
Toss and turn, medicine’s a curse
Open a hand

She smiles a crooked smile,
And she walks in a semi-straight line
She hurts inside, but tells you she’s fine
Damned if you don’t

Diseases should be banned
Turn on the light
Close a hand
I’m just fine

Paradise

Paradise
By Andy Brown

Do I remember her? Of course I remember her, she sat behind me in a few of my classes. She was soft spoken but quick to yell “God bless you”. She had a little smile that would just knock you out and hands that could never hurt. Talk of the school was an understatement. Constantly involved in activities with Him, and a straight ‘A’ student. If eyes were ever set on anyone...

What happened to her? She’s an angel now, of course. Long since left us and flew far away, but her sunshine has darkened since then. She goes to a school far away from here. She walks in paradise with the snake, who’s welcoming grin bears teeth. The angel is nervous, she reaches out a hand and the snake has none to give her. A mouth that once spoke comforts to the angel now spits venom. She is confused; she looks at her hand and sees she holds the apple from the tree of knowledge. The sunshine fades and paradise is dark and aflame. How did this happen, she asks herself. You’re nothing, he tells her. The angel tries to fly away but her wings are clipped. She sits on the floor of her dorm room clutching a silver cross. Her sweet eyes, filled with tears, are looking for help. She’s lost. But a hand reaches out to her. She takes His hand and is lifted up. The hand destroys the snake and brings the light back into her life.

Where is she now? Paradise.

Final Essay

Im done with this class. Yay. Here's that piece of crap.

The Best Laid Plans of Lennie and George
“The best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley,” were the words written by Scottish poet Robert Burns. The idea behind the poem “To A Mouse” is that the difference between a man and a mouse is that the man will constantly question why things have to be the way they are. The mouse, however, will just continue to work. These same words drove John Steinbeck to write the award-winning novel Of Mice and Men. Though it is clear to the reader which of the characters represents the man, and which represents the mouse, it is even clearer which of their plans go “aft agley”.
At the beginning of the novel, the heroes live with an idealistic heaven that drives them to continue with their tedious work. They have a proverbial “American Dream” of living on a big farm and working for no one but themselves. They would get up in the mornings when they chose, and retire in the evenings when they chose. In their fantasy, no one persecutes Lennie for being mentally handicapped, or George for taking care of Lennie. They simply live together happily. Unfortunately, a mix of poverty and lack of jobs causes society to crush their dream.
Being in the Great Depression, there was a lack for industrial workers, so men often had to look into being field hands. This brought George and Lennie to the Salinas Valley in California. They were quick to find a job at a nearby ranch. At the farm, the heroes begin a continuous struggle to keep their dream alive. They encounter characters that push their beliefs to the limit: Curley, who would stop at nothing to bring Lennie down; Carlson, who was a depressing realist; and Slim, who delivered the burden of society by being the leader. Through their journeys they encounter death, disease, racism, and depression. Life on the farm is pitiful. The workers are in the fields early in the morning until late at night. Nothing drives them but their next paycheck and the thought of going into town to see a prostitute.
This did not hold true for George and Lennie, though. Through the midst of the depression, they managed to holdfast to their dreams. They even got the old man, Candy, to want to join in. Candy offers a portion of his saving to help the boys pay. It all seems as though everything is falling into place. Unfortunately, it all comes crashing down with the death of Curley’s wife. When the members of the farm find her dead and Lennie is to blame, they begin a manhunt. After some time running, they come across an already dead Lennie. George, having killed his best friend, walks away in shame. In the final scene, George asks Lennie to remember the dream. This helps George with what he is about to do, but it also helps Lennie, in that he will not feel pain in his final moments. With the boys envisioning paradise, it brings the novel to a close similar to the way it opened, the two fantasizing over what may never be.
Steinbeck most likely chose this way to end the novel similarly to the way he ended other scenes in the book. For instance, Candy’s dog was old and helped no one, and Candy had him put down, similarly to Lennie; or the way the novel began with the boys on the run and ended with the boys on the run. Perhaps what Steinbeck is trying to get at is that even though mice and men have plans, they will go “agley.” That no matter how hard they try, there will never be anything but more work.

My life soundtrack

So I saw that Harter had this and I just had to make one of my own (Damn this was hard):IF YOUR LIFE HAS A SOUNDTRACK WHAT WOULD BE THE SONG FOR:
Opening Credits: Anthem For the Underdog - 12 Stones
Waking Up: Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra
First Day At School: Basket Case - Green Day
Falling In Love: Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses
Losing Virginity: You Shook Me All Night - AC/DC
Fight Song: Headstrong - Trapt
Breaking Up: Interstate Love Song - Stone Temple Pilots
Prom: Drain You - Nirvana
Life: Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne
Mental Breakdown: Paint It Black - Rolling Stones
Driving: Big Empty - Stone Temple Pilots
Flashback: Doesn't Remind Me - Audioslave
Getting Back Together: Creep - Radiohead
Wedding: Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Birth of a Child: My Name is Jonas - Weezer
Final Battle: The Trooper - Iron Maiden
Death Scene: Burning Bright - Shinedown
Funeral Song: Afterlife - Avenged Sevenfold
End Credits: Be Yourself - Audioslave

Dear Allison

Dear Allison
By Andy Brown

The screen is black.

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, hey you! Haven’t heard from you in forever! We missed you at Christmas. Robert played some songs on the piano and we all sang along. It was a great time. Send us a postcard or something to let us know you’re still alive. Love you!

[Fade in from black]

The screen fades in to show a sunny fall afternoon. There are sounds of nature in the background.

[Int. room with desk]

The camera zooms in on a girls hand writing in a notebook.

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, hey… we haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything ok? You’re worrying us, Allison. Please come back home. We love you so much.

The camera shows the girl get up and stand before a window. The light silhouettes her and makes it hard for the audience to see what the girl looks like.

[Ext. walkway, park]

The screen changes from the cabin to a walkway outside. It is still sunny out. Camera follows Allison as she walks all by herself. She is looking at the ground.

Jenny:
Allison!

Allison doesn’t look up.

Jenny:
Allison! Wait up!

She runs up and walks beside Allison. Allison doesn’t acknowledge her.

Jenny:
Hey silly! What’s up?

Allison:
Nothing…

Jenny:
I had to tell you as soon as I heard: Miss Beth is going to bring us a cat! I’m so excited! I love kitties and I haven’t held one since…well, I’m so excited.

Allison:
Do you ever talk to Robert?

Jenny:
Robert? You know he’s been dead for years now…

Allison:
I know…I miss him

Jenny:
I know you do…I know

[Fade to black]

Girl (VO):
Dear Allison, Robert’s grown so big! Another year and he’ll be taller than you! He’s doing so good in school. He brought home his report card and he was so excited. He made all ‘A’s! We’re so proud of him. There’s another thing though…his teacher called. She says that he’s having trouble making friends. She thinks he has autism…she gave us the name of a really great child psychiatrist. Pray for him.

[Fade in from black]
[Ext. outside log cabin]

The screen fades in to show a bright summer day. Two girls are running and playing in a large open field and there is a boy sitting at the edge of the porch, looking down.

Girl 1:
I’m going to get you!

The girls run and laugh and play and the boy remains seated without looking up.

Allison:
Robert! Why don’t you come play with us?

Robert remains seated. A car pulls up and a man dressed up pulls a box out of the back seat.

Allison:
Daddy! You’re home! What’s that?

The man bends over with the box and shows the children that insides is a group of kittens.

Father:
I found these little guys on the side of the road. Who would want to get rid of them?

The girls laugh and play with the kittens, but Robert remains seated and looking away. The man approaches with a kitten in hand.

Father:
Robert, do you want to see the kittens? I brought them home for you.

The man hands a kitten to Robert. Robert looks up and smiles. His face lights up and he silently plays with the kitten. He makes no sound.

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, there’s something wrong with Robert. He just stays in his room all the time. He doesn’t talk to anyone. We’re afraid its getting worse. All he does all day is write. He just sits in his room and…and writes. He wont come down for dinner, or anything. We’re worried. We found his journal one day and…you should see the things he writes. We’re worried he’s going to hurt somebody….we’re worried he’s going to hurt himself.

The camera changes to show a grown, 17 or 18 year old Robert seated on his bed, petting a full grown cat. He has in his lap a composition book and a pen in hand. He looks out the window and then writes something in his journal. He pets the cat, then writes something. There’s a knock at the door. Enters his parents. They sit at the edge of the bed.

Mother:
Robert…Robert, there’s something we need to talk about…

Robert looks at her and says nothing.

Father:
Son, we need to talk about…

[Fade to black]
[Fade in from black]

The screen shows the older Robert in the room by himself. It is just a few hours later, night time outside. You see Robert reach into his bedside table and withdraw a handgun. The screen goes black and there is a gunshot.

[Fade to black]

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, we…we had to move out…we had to get away from the memories. We hope you’re enjoying your new life…the doctors are really great out there…we…we love yo--

[Fade in from black]
[Int. Bedroom]

The scene is dark and you see Allison jerk awake in her bed. She rolls over.

[Int. Large visiting room, psychiatric ward]

There are many people of all ages walking around and talking to one another. In the middle of the room sits Allison with a composition book in her arms. A door opens and enters Miss Beth with a cat in her hands. All the people flock over to see the cat, Allison remains seated without looking up.

Woman:
Oh lookie at the kitty. How cute…

Man:
I WANT TO SEE THE KITTY.

Miss Beth approaches Allison.

Beth:
Allison, don’t you want to see the kitty?

Allison turns away.

Beth:
Allison, I brought him over for you…I found him on the side of the road…His name is Robert…

Allison quickly shakes her head and Miss Beth walks away. Allison quickly opens her composition book and begins writing.

Girl (VO): Dear Allison, I miss the way things used to be. Back when it was you and me and Robert. So much has changed…I don’t like change. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You’ve changed…Allison…Allison…pl

ease come home…
The camera zooms in on Allison’s hand as she writes. It zooms in on the page.

Girl (VO):
Please…Love, Allison.

[Fade to black]
[End]

Disconnected

Scene 1
The screen fates in from black, the audience sees Jessica, a girl of about 25 or 26 years. She is very thin and pale. She walks among graves in a cemetery. She is clothed in an oversized hoodie and a baseball hat. The scene is quiet, with no sound. She slowly approaches a grave with flowers in hand. There is the faded sound of a scream from the dream sequence.
In the dream sequence, Jessica and her husband are at their small home. Husband, wearing work cloths, is angry. He slams a beer bottle down on the table. There is another faded scream. Audience can see the husband raise his hand, and there is the sound of a hit. The camera fades in and out of the dream sequence the entire scene. When the dream sequence reappears the audience sees Jessica crying. They can hear her the husband yelling multiple times. The husband’s words can be improvised along the lines that it is highly abusive wording. There is another sound of a hit and current-time Jessica flinches, revealing a bruise on her arm. Camera zooms on it. She quickly covers it up. Dream sequences continue to flash in and out throughout the remainder of the scene.
[Fade to black]
Scene 2
The camera pans and shows multiple shots of Jessica, each time showing zoomed shots of cuts and bruises. The scene is different: Jessica is sitting at the table of a friend’s apartment. It is nighttime and all the lights are out except for one above the table. The setting is reminiscent of an interrogation scene. Jessica cradles a hot cup of coffee in her hands.
[Friend]
And then what did he do? What happened?
[Jessica]
He yelled at me and said that his losing his job was my fault.
Camera pans and shows dream sequence again. The scene is silent. Husband yells at Jessica and strikes her again. After he hits her he pushes her away (on to the ground?). The audience can hear a faded ringing of a telephone. All the audience can hear is the telephone’s ringing, silent first, then louder and louder. The husband is making his way toward the phone (in another room, far away), during this time Jessica has gotten on her feet and is making her way to the bedroom. Her face is trickling with blood. She reaches into a bedside table and withdraws a handgun. The camera returns to the husband. He reaches for the phone and the camera zooms out to reveal Jessica with the gun aimed at him. The ringing stops and there is a gunshot sound and the screen is black.
[Fade to black]
Scene 3
[Fade in from black]
Jessica stands before the grave in the cemetery. It is present day. Soft music plays in the background. She lays a dozen roses on the grave and kneels before it. The camera pans to show that the name on the grave is hers.
[Fade to black]

Military Girl

Military Girl

Military girl
Marching down the aisle
Military girl
With a bullet in her smile
Military girl
‘s been alone before
Military girl
Be alone once more
Army brat
Living on the road
Army brat
With nowhere to go
Army brat
Where do you point your gun?
Army brat
Shoot my heart for some fun
Air Force queen
Where did she go?
Air Force queen
Hell if I know
Air Force queen
Took love for a whirl
Air Force queen
Return my Military Girl

Eyes

I saw her from the other side of the room. The sunlight was reflected off of her bright red hair. It shimmered and danced and she caught it, tied it up, and covered it with a hat. Her thin outline graced slowly over towards me. Her body flowed like water, with slow, fluid movements. Her thin, white face held two deepened and darkened eyes. Eyes blue like the sky on a fair spring day. Those eyes had seen such pain, such suffering. She extended a frail, sickly looking hand. A hand that had defended her one too many times. Cuts and scars dazzled her arms, making it hard to forget the past. She had an arrangement of chipped and cracked painted fingernails. On her hand, a ring glinted. A plain silver ring that had signified unholy matrimony. She sat before me. Her posture indicated that she was tired, yet the rate that she was breathing indicated that she was ready. Her breath had a hint of peppermint and cigarettes. She closed her eyes and smiled. The two azure orbs stared me down. I had to look away. The poor and tattered soul.
"Why is it you wear that ring? You're not married," I asked.
"I don't want any attention."
Her gentle fingertips grasped her coffee cup and trailed to her lips. They parted slightly and she looked away.
"I should go."
She got up and her knees buckled slightly. She reached down for her coat and revealed a bruise on her forearm. She walked over to the door. As I watched her leave I felt by soul crumble. She looked back at me, and again, I looked away.

The Door

He stepped in through the doorway. It was low and tiny so he bent over. Inside was an elegant room, decorated in a Victorian styled manner. The walls were a soft cream color lit by gentle candle light. There was a table in the center of the room. In the center of the table was a feast beyond imagining. Everything was in place. Four plates, evenly positioned at the four ends of the table. Four ends matched four chairs, but there were only three people sitting.
“Mom? Ted? Emilia? What are you guys doing here?”
“Join us, Timothy. Sit down, your mother’s been worried sick.”
He sat at the table. He was feeling uneasy and awkward. His mother looked at him with the compassion he so missed, and he smiled. They sat quietly and no one said a thing. Then, slowly, one by one, the plates were passed amongst the four. He was so happy to see his family all together: his mother, brother, and wife all in one place. He had missed them and their company. They looked at each other and picked up their forks and knives and began eating.
Timothy stabbed the hunk of turkey meat on his plate and began cutting into it. Their was a strange sound. He looked closer to find maggots on the inside. They scurried out and ran up and down his arms. His company was laughing at him. He screamed and screamed trying to brush off the maggots. They ran up and down his body, then ran into his mouth.

He stepped in through the doorway. It was low and tiny so he bent over. Inside was a field and it was on fire. He stood next to a pile of dead bodies. Each was being thrown onto the other. The stack must’ve reached five feet high. There were bodies of men and women and children. They were all smiling. What were they smiling at, he wondered? His father stood before him with a shotgun in hand.
“Timothy, there’s something we need to talk about. Your mother is dead, I killed her.”
He yelled and the fires blazed in the background. He fell to his knees and started to weep. He cried and cried. His eyes began to ache as he noticed that his tears were made of blood. He reached for his eyes and they were not there. He couldn’t see a thing, but he kept crying anyway.

He stepped in through the doorway. It was low and tiny so he bent over. Inside she was waiting for him. He was in his room and she lay upon his bed. There were rose petals scattered all over. She was naked and beckoning for him. He approached slowly. Her face was lit by the soft candle light around them. It was night time and shadows danced on the walls.
“Happy Anniversary, Timmy. I got you a little something”
She beckoned him still, and he was close. She sat up to kiss him and he closed his eyes. He heard a shout. He opened his eyes to see that she was being lifted into the air by many black hands. The shadows were trying to take her away from him. He ran towards her, but he wasn’t going anywhere. She was pulled further and further until she vanished in the darkness. He yelled and then felt a cold hand on his shoulder.
“No!”

He stepped in through the doorway. It was low and tiny so he bent over. Inside it was snowing. He saw a boy wrapped up tightly in a big winter coat. His scarf covered his mouth and his hat covered his head.
“Timothy! Come play catch with me!”
Timothy moved slowly toward the boy, who quickly ran away.
“Catch me if you can!”
The boy was laughing and running with the ball in his hand. He was having so much fun, he didn’t see that he had ran out atop a frozen lake.
“No! Ted come back!”
“C’mon you slowpo--”
The boy fell through the ice. Timothy ran as fast as he could to help his little brother. By the time he had reached the lake, the water had frozen over again leaving an invisible barrier between him and his brother. The boy screamed and thrashed underwater. He couldn’t breathe. Timothy yelled.
“Help me!”

He stepped in through the doorway. It was low and tiny so he bent over. Inside there was a plain wooden chair. In the seat of the chair sat a revolver. Timothy picked up the gun and sat down. There was nothing else in the room. He looked down the barrel and he saw a familiar face and a bright light.

Escape

Her hands pulled at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. He reached up and grabbed her wrist.
Isnt there something more to life than just this?
She was shocked. Was he unhappy with me? I dont understand
She doesnt understand me. There has to be an answer. There must be a reason.
He was in his car, driving. She was at home crying.
I have to find it.
She lifted her hands to cover her face. She wept for herself. He was gone. Why didnt I go with him?
He put the car in park. He was in the middle of nowhere. He stood in the middle of the field. Rolling hills surrounded him. He was happy.
She shivered. It was so cold this time of year. Frost marked the windows and it was winter.
The flowers danced among him. The wind sang past his ears. His toes met the earth and he knew what he was after.
She sat at the dinner table. There was no one at the other side. Another microwaved dinner.
And so summer turns to winter and it was cold. He shivered. He was hungry and couldnt find food. He knew not of the earth and the nature. What was he to eat?
She was out to dinner, he was cute. She knew him from work. He was different than the one who left her. He wouldnt
He closed his eyes for the last time. He was starving and paralysed.
Life's funny like that

More News

The weekend was filled with much enjoyment and terror. Well, no terror, but just enjoyment. Thursday I applied for a position on the MSCtv cast (the college news program) and I got a part as script writer. Friday I came to the school in the middle of the day for our first recording. I wrote the script and we recorded. It will air this week. Other news, Momma went to Brasil last week and left us here alone for three weeks. Its more of a tragedy than it sounds like because my dad cant cook anything (or any of us for that matter) so we pretty much would go hungry if it werent for pop tarts. thats all

Regents Practice Exam

Andy Brown
English 1101
Ms. S. Aiken
October 20, 2008
Raised by Circumstance
The Brown family lineage can be traced back for centuries. It all began hundreds of years ago in Germany, but through time and circumstance, it brought them the Pennsylvania, where each child of Jack and Betty Brown (my grandfather and grandmother) went their own separate way. My father’s was the way of travel, his many travels had brought him to meet my mother in Brazil and the rest is history. In their lifetime they have had three healthy children, Andrew, Daniel, and Emily.
Being the oldest, I had many responsibilities. My parents were more in experimental stages of their lives when they had me. Since I was their first-born, my parents were often stricter, with earlier curfews and heavily enforced rules. There was obviously a higher margin of error seeing as how my parents did not know anything about raising a child.
Because of the fact that I was under tighter rules, I grew up to be very liberal. My parents were always very conservative. I always swore that I would never be a parent like they were. Although, my parents disagree with some of the decisions I have made (such as getting an earring) they are still proud of me, and I am more than happy to make them that way.
The next to be born in my family was my little brother, Daniel. After waiting six years from their previous child (because they were not sure if they could handle another me) he was born. Being second born, and thirteen months older than my even younger sister, his living conditions were a bit different than mine. He grew up a little more relaxed than I was. I was the family’s “guinea pig” and so now they were more confident. Daniel would grow up having a larger spending allowance, fewer chores, and later curfews. He would be able to get away with just about anything because he was the current youngest. Needless to say, I received a lot less attention, but that was all right because I was a bit older by then.
Daniel grew up completely differently than I did. Though he was raised in a more liberal environment, he chose to become more conservative. He always did better in school than I did, obeyed the rules better than I did, and adapted to wherever we were living at the time better than I did.
Finally, thirteen months after Daniel’s birth, my youngest sibling, Emily was born. Being the youngest and the last, Emily could get away with almost anything. My family always treasured her because she was the youngest. She has a petite body type, which would give you the illusion that she is a lot younger than she really is. She was also very cute (pale skinned, blue eyes, and dark hair), so she could talk her way out of anything.
Emily was always very aware of the fact that she could do anything and not get in trouble, so she did. She would always push the rules and see how far they would bend. This led her to develop a very liberal attitude. Unlike Daniel and I, she was also very attached to her friends, following whatever trends and fads were popular. This got her in a bit of trouble every now and then, but we would always keep her from anything too bad.
All of our personalities also differ because of the different places we lived. They also differ based on how much involvement our extended family had with us. There is more to our differences than just birth order, but birth order is a huge contributing factor. It just remains to be seen how it will affect our adult lives. Which of us will get married first? Have kids first? Have financial problems first? I guess that these are questions my parents do not look forward to answering.

something else

the angry man sits
in his prison cell
the fire man delights
in his man made hell
the sad man wishes
he was never late
for the sad man picks
his own fate
the joker laughs
at all of you
because the joker
kills himself too

paper

Andy Brown
October 8, 2008
English 1101
Comparison / Contrast
Super Differences
Every month, young adolescent boys would scurry down to their local corner stores, pockets full of change, eager for the new issue of their favorite comic book series. An all-American hero, Superman flew threw the skies fighting crime and evil to keep peace in the world. At night, the streets of Gotham city would crawl with evil. Whatever were the citizens to do without the Batman? The man of steel and the dark knight are similar in the sense that they both fight evil and keep crime off the street, but are more different in their backgrounds and origins.
“The man of tomorrow,” “the man of steel,” and “the last son of Krypton,” are all titles held by the great Superman. Originally written in 1938, after the end of World War II, the superman comic series spanned almost a thousand issues.
When trouble calls, Superman can hear it. He quickly ducks into the nearest phone booth and changes. When not in costume, he is known simply as Clark Kent, a middle class reporter for “The Daily Bugle.” He is really an alien from the planet “Krypton,” a dying planet, wrecked by Lex Luthor. Superman draws his powers from the Earth’s sun and has the abilities of super strength, super speed, super stamina, super senses, freezing breath, heat vision, x-ray vision, and flight. His main love interest is a woman named Lois Lane. Lane is a rival reporter to Kent, and madly in love Superman. Only toward the end of the series does she become aware of his true identity.
Written in 1939, a year after the Superman series started, the epic tale of the dark knight began. The Batman comic series spanned almost a thousand issues, as well as a few hundred featuring guest characters (Superman, the Flash, Wonder Woman, etc.).
When not in costume, Bruce Wayne is Gotham’s notorious playboy. At a young age, Wayne inherits a great wealth from his parents (monetarily and also a booming real estate company). He uses his wealth to have gadgets and suits especially made for him so that when the signal is used, he is ready.
Batman does have a couple noticeable differences from Superman. Batman does have a “sidekick,” Robin, boy wonder, that stays with him for the majority of the series. Another noticeable difference is that Wayne has no main love interest in the series. Finally, Batman is summoned by the Police Commissioner by a massive light that projects the image of a bat in the night sky.
Though there are noticeable differences between the two, it is impossible to determine which is better. Even though they have their differences, Superman and Batman had their own comic book series together that lasted over three hundred issues. Whatever the preference is, they are the two most well known superheroes in the world.

almost essay

Andrew Brown
English 1101
September 29, 2008

Ms. S. Aiken
Hammer of the Gods

Imagine a dark summer afternoon. The grass is crisp underneath your body and hands. There is

a soft murmur of passing people. Their chit-chat is distant and it is a loud and quiet environment. Before you is the most beautiful stage you have ever seen. It is wide and narrow so that all members of the band can be seen. There is a large screen for projected images in the background. In the forground, the stage is covered in a low flame. Spotlights, strobe lights, and speakers are strategically positioned around it. You are close enough to see, yet not at the compromise of your personal space. A gentle breeze is blowing and calming. It is the concert of your dreams.
Finally, after many hours of anticipation, a man appears on stage. It is Layne Staley, the front man of Alice in Chains. “Let’s start, shall we?” he says. The rest of the band joins him on the stage. They open with “Them Bones.” The sun is low and the sky turns orange. The thunderous power chords tear across the air. They proceed to play “Rooster,” “I Stay Away,” and “Man In the Box.” Their deep lyrics, coupled with heavy, distorted guitar stab the brain in excitement.
After a brief applause, nobody says a word. Jerry steps off the stage with the rest of the band. A flash of light soars out across the crowd leaving temporary blindness. Suddenly a hum in the amplifiers breaks the silence, and it is Soundgarden. Chris Cornell, front man, opens with “Rusty Cage.” Everybody is on their feet jumping. They follow with “Pretty Noose,” “Jesus Christ Pose,” and “Black Hole Sun.” Applause and the band takes a bow. Cornell points off stage and yells “Stone Temple Pilots!” Scott Weiland and the DeLeo boys come out. The stage is wide and narrow. The bands are spread so that they can all be seen. The band proceeds to play “Wicked Garden,” “Plush,” and “Interstate Love Song.” It is dark now, the concert goers all have their lighters out, swaying to the all too true lyrics of “Interstate Love Song”: “Leavin’ on a southern train, / Only yesterday, you lied.”
After the audience thought they could take no more amazing music, Pearl Jam joins the stage. Eddie Vedder, of Pearl Jam, and Scott Weiland, of Stone Temple Pilots, greet each other. In a meeting that could be almost unreal, Vedder thanks the audience. Stone Temple Pilots leave the stage and there is a silence again. Somewhere there is a sickly sweet sound of cicadas calling. The wind blows and some papers rustle by. The other concert-goers are wide eyed and mouth-agape. Vedder yells “God bless this land!”, and there is the rip of a slide down the guitar. It is the opening note of “Even Flow,” the sour sweet tale of the homeless community. You are on your feet again, screaming along with the lyrics, in your raspy voice you’ve developed. Vedder’s voice is like an angel sent from heaven, and the audience is like his holy chorus. The song ends and it immediately starts “Jeremy.” The innocence of a young boy against the odds is perfectly portrayed in this ballad. The guitar solo pulls repeatedly at your heartstrings, for you know the boy in the song has killed himself. Jeremy, the American hero, has fallen. The fields are filled with the rich and raw sound of Stone Gossard’s guitar. The notes playfully land on your ears, and your eyes glaze over from the excitement. Pearl Jam continues to finish their set with “Black.”
At the end of that song, Vedder is joined Cornell, Weiland, and Staley. They bow. The whole audience is screaming “More, more!” The bands bow once more. There is another flash of lights, and the stage is empty. It was almost as if the whole concert was a dream. The roaring is more than your ears can handle. Your voice is dead and your hands are reddened. Tears stream from your eyes as you are overwhelmed. The single greatest expirience of your life has come to an end.

News

This past week, while at work (Barnes & Noble, if you didn't already know), I met up with one of the old coaches from my high school. We had a brief discussion. The generic "how's school, how's work, whats your major" and so forth. Well after the mention of me majoring in journalism, he proceeded to tell me of how he writes for all these sports and local magazines. He then requested my email and said that he would put me in touch with the editor of the Across Town magazine and get me a spot to write. Pretty excited.

Acceptance

Acceptance: The Final Stage of Death

Many of my days have been bland and uneventful. Childhood came and went like the waves of the sea. Unfortunately, I’ll never forget the death of my best friend.
He sat there and an amorphous body floated over to him. This strange figure had lanky arms and big round belly. The hairs on its head were combed to one side and it reminded him of cornfields. He remembered the corn maze he had went to the previous year and he frowned. Getting lost can be so frustrating. The shape came and sat next to him.
“Go to bed son”
He was in his bed, nestled in his covers. He pulled the covers over his head and he was weightless in space. He soared past the stars and the Milky Way; he passed Luke Skywalker and Superman. His toys were pioneers and his bed was a spaceship. He left Earth, never to return. The blankets were pulled out from above him and he was back in his room.
“Good morning”
The sun was shining that morning. Who could ever forget that day when tragedy struck.
The cars were all in a row outside of his house; each one spaced evenly apart from the previous. He started to count them: one red, two red, two red and one blue, two red and one blue and one grey. The cars were varying in size. Each one they passes grew bigger and bigger. Finally he was surrounded by a group of many giants; each one with its metal teeth and its white eyes. They were going to eat him. He began to speed up his walking pace. Finally he arrived at the bus stop. The doors closed behind him and the bus began to move. It was a cheetah and they were moving faster and faster. They were running away from the giants.
The lady came into their class and they were all sitting down. He began reading the Hardy Boys. They were searching for a lost little girl. He lead the Boys on a wild chase around town. Finally, they found her.
“Pack up your books; it’s almost time to go”
He was standing in the entryway to him home. He was standing in his room. He checked to make sure nothing was touched while he was out. All his toys were in place, all his books in order, bed was neat. There was something different though.
“Mom, where’s Goldie?”
His fish tank was missing. She looked away and he knew what had happened. He ran up to his room and slammed the door behind him. There was no happiness. They world had lost its brilliance. Grey clouds filled the sky. He threw a toy at the wall. He yelled. He lied in his bed with his face in a pillow. He was in his room and everything seemed so huge. He was swimming. He swam in circles for a bit. He couldn’t understand. And then a familiar face came to him.
“What’s the matter?”
It was Goldie. Goldie had risen from the toilet and was never leaving. He was on vacation, of course! He never should’ve doubted his mom. So that’s what he meant by ‘he’s in a better place.’
He sat up in his bed. It was night time out and it was dark in his room. He turned on the lights. Goldie wasn’t there. A wet spot on his desk took the place of his best friend. He sat at his desk, not upset, anymore. He went back downstairs. He hugged his mom, and he ate dinner.

Conflagration

Burn. She stepped away from what once was a house. Ashes glowed to make her face red. Now he could see the hatred inside of her. Burn. The lights flashed blue and red in her face. She smiled. They can come take me away, Im happy now. Burn. I hope you like hell. I hear it's nice and warm. You and your new girl can go make love there. Burn. They slapped handcuffs on her, read her her rights. The deed was done. Burn. They read the charges: Two accounts of manslaughter, posession of illegal drugs, and, of course, arson. Burn. The bars closed behind her. Life in jail without parole rang in her ears. She had known what she had done, and she was proud of it. Who knew that gas stove would ever come in so handy? Burn. She got out of her car and ran her fingers through her hair. What the hell? He was in bed with another girl. They lie naked together, embarassed. Burn. He and her were kissing on the bed. I love you she told him. He said the same to her. They had a bond that could never be broken. They took each other's clothes off and he surveyed her. Burn. She had a date tonight. Boy, was she excited. She was gonna wear her new red dress and red lipstick. He was cute. She liked him. They met at work. Burn. The house still lay in ashes. She smiled. She was happy with her new home.

Failed attempt at an essay!

I'll never forget that day, it was a Monday and the doors were locked. The schoolbus had just let us off. Shit, I thought, I didnt have my house key with me. I walked down the street to the near by playground and sat in the swing. The wind was blowing pretty hard. I pulled my sweatshirt up around my neck. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my copy of Catcher in the Rye. I can still remember that day, it snowed. I sported my new Pink Floyd hoodie and a pair of tattered jeans. At a slim 110 pounds, I was looking pretty sickly.
As long as I can remember, my family always had problems. Dad was an alchoholic, stupid fuck. My older brother killed himself when I was three. I failed the fifth grade, but that's nothing to brag about. Yup, just your regular American family. It was the best of days, it was the worst of days, right? Well, that night the phone rang.
"Your mother's in the hospital."
Happiness had just went to hell in a handbasket. Ma had led a pretty significant role in my life. When Jeff put the gun against his head and pulled the trigger, Ma was the one who kissed me on the forehead. I'm not one for mushy stuff, but hell, that's just about the best it could get. When Dad hit the booze again, it was Ma he hit. She still loved him, that crazy bitch. The world can be a cruel place for nice people.

Number 5

Its a slow Monday, today, the kinda day that really makes you feel shitty. The cloudy skies match the glazed over eyes that pass. Prepare for the battle against knowledge, because we are doomed to loose. Carpe diem, right?

Number 4

There's no use in running
Let's just sleep tonight
For when we wake in the morning
We will have lost the fight

So we run and we run and we run
For what, we do not know
And when we stop we will be done
There's nowhere left to go

We've locked our doors
And thrown away the keys
But I cant save you
And you cant save me

So we run and we run and we run
For what, we do not know
And when we stop we will be done
There's nowhere left to go

Ive reached for your hand
But our bridges have burnt
Its time to take a stand
Now its my turn

No one leaves until I say
No one's going to get away
No one leaves here tonight
No one leaves here alive

So we run and we run and we run
For what, we do not know
And when we stop we will be done
There's nowhere left to go

So we've ran and we've ran
I'm tired now
I've done all I can
Its only a matter of time
Before I'm found out

Number 3

She has a certain grace about her. Yes, her blue eyes are the depths of the oceans and I suffocate, drowning in my inability to be with her. All of our bridges have been burned, and yet we are not stranded. With a skin so fair as could only be described as heavenly, a new form appears. She smiles and an Cupid's arrow has pierced my heart yet again. The shadow takes her away. My soul weakens for I know that when I wake in the morning, I will not see her face.

Number 2

The air was cool this morning. It was all too early for him as he walked through the door. He sighed at the thought of another day in this horrid place. People swarmed around him like flies on a decaying carcass. He sighed again. He felt that his days were too long and his free time was stolen away from him. Whatever happened to the times when one could just sit and enjoy solitude?

First post

I chose to name my blog "tales of a vagabond" because it best described who I really am. All of my life I've been packed up and shipped from place to place. In the twelve years I was in school, I had been to ten different schools. Therefore, I consider myself to be a bit of a world traveler. My plans for the future are to move again because I feel that I can only settle in one place for so long.