smells like a dirty sanchez

A poem.

you find yourself, reader,
in wicked spirit
being led by my dangled carrot into a modern family home
that to the modern teen, may as well be a modern garrote –
her room, her bed, her throne –
Mom thinks there must be something going on
cause the smell from the dining room downstairs
reeks like a bong:
“but how do you know that, Miss Antoinette? are you sure?

“it’s because of the parties to which i’ve been lured.
i haven’t actually smoked any. don’t be so perturbed –

“well how would you know it was weed
unless you were standing so close to them you could see?
then wouldn’t it be in the air that you breathe?
hmmm?
do you need me to get you a cup
into which you can pee?

“i didn’t have any, OK? JEEZ.

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poor fish

A one-act play.

“A walk in the park becomes an earnest spiral of naive morality when a mother and her young daughter happen on a fisherman.”

THE SCENE
A suburban park surrounding a lake, during a mild day in early-Spring. Present Day.

THE CAST
A Man, 60s, spending his day fishing.
A Girl, under 10, who happens upon him.
Her Mom, late-20s/early-30s, her guardian.

*

LIGHTS UP. A MAN stands alone off to stage-left, facing away from the audience, casting off with an imaginary fishing rod. There are sounds of a public park: birds; wind; and the resting of water. There is a bench beside the man and on top rests his backpack, a cooler, and some other miscellaneous items: he is set up to be standing there for the day.

ENTER a little GIRL, clad in a one-piece rainsuit, jumping on-stage from stage-right into imaginary puddles with her yellow boots. Her MOM follows her. The girl is singing a little song.

MOM
Honey, don’t go off too far!

GIRL
I won’t!

The girl circles back to Mom. Near her, the girl falls on her bum. Mom helps her up.

MOM
Good thing we bought you this rainsuit!

GIRL
Mom, I’m going to be all wet!

MOM
You won’t. It’ll be like magic.
Stand here a second. Watch that man.

They watch the fisherman.

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Jay’s Take: On Deadly Ground

A revisionist movie review.

“You wanna know who he is? Try this: delve down into the deepest bowels of your soul. Try to imagine the ultimate fucking nightmare. And that won’t come close to this son of a bitch when he gets pissed.”

– Michael Caine re: Steven Seagal

Let’s talk. Aside from the man himself, do any of us REALLY KNOW Steven Seagal? Sure, NOW he’s the schlub who can disarm a pistol-toting goon faster than my Mazda can reach top-speed uphill in eco-mode – who has private “line readings” with his co-actresses (albeit allegedly) in expensive hotel rooms in cities whose elite still see the man as the mainstream movie star he was 40-years-ago – but just WHO is he? No one understands the “mythos” of Seagal better than Seagal himself. And for this review, it’ll be important that we make this distinction now, at the beginning, because -SHOCK- “On Deadly Ground” is up for re-evaluation, and (surprise!) it’s really, really good.

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