Bob

The sixteen-year-old slouched in the back of the bob sled.  Alone.

He glanced toward the pavilion and saw coach Odbayar vehemently miming some new pushing technique. Apparently, the three boys who constituted the GOHS bob sled team were not taking full advantage of the virtues of the shoulder.

Although Abe was technically the fourth member of the team, he never considered himself as such. His value to the team lay solely in his peculiar body which, though a perfect fit in the tiny sled, weighed as much as a linebacker. All he had to do was take a few steps and jump in and they were sucked down the icy shoot like a turd down some fridged toilet.

Truthfully, they could’ve pushed with their elbows and still managed to beat every high school in the state easily considering the good 30 extra pounds they had on even the bulkiest teams. Yet there they were, on a freezing Saturday morning, watching a spunky Mongolian man demonstrate the untapped power of the shoulder.

All members of the Goldberg family had to play one sport and one instrument. Abe’s sport was sitting in a frozen turd. After years of expensive lessons with no musical fruits to speak of, his dad bought him the only instrument that he could figure out: a video camera. And he was happy.

Grandfather’s Daughter

Curled and dusty photos found her fingers. She lifted them up, they hadn’t seen light in years, and gazed at the yellowing forms.
She gasped, glanced around her. Grandma wasn’t home, but the indulgence still felt dangerous, almost traitorous—grandpa had been shut away for a reason.
She got up and locked the door.

Heavy

Abe was born a worrisome five weeks early. It didn’t take a doctor to determine why the premature evacuation took place; as soon as Melinda held her frail new creation it was evident that he was, for lack of any known medical term describing his condition, heavy.  Though Abraham Isaac Goldberg was of average size for an infant five weeks premature, he weighed an astonishing thirteen pounds. He simply fell out.

He was a smelly vomiting scientific anomaly.  His first earthly sensations were of the soft-bosomed nurses who took turns holding him with amazement – an occurrence that may or may not have played a factor in his eventual detachment from his mother.

After extensive testing confirmed his general good health, Baby Abe was taken home where he was put on display to a cavalcade of friends and relatives until his weight became more an inconvenience than a wonder.

The only relics from that period of his life were a birth certificate with the astonishing poundage highlighted, and the framed tabloid clipping of a story with the headline “GOVERNMENT TOP SECRET EUGENICS PROGRAM RESULTS IN LEAD BABY”.

Abe knew at a young age why he weighed so much: his thoughts were of unnatural density. They weren’t of above average intensity or wisdom – they simply weighed a lot. That and there was some organ within him that seemed to catch his thoughts, giving gravity more power over his skinny body. He’s pretty sure it’s his liver.

Memories

Dusty streets tumble wildly into chaotic patterns
Tin-roofed houses with colorful doors
When the rain comes it slides off
When the rain comes they cave in
And the children with sticky faces huddle in the neighbors house
and the neighbor feeds them strawberry milk and cereal

Sitting on doorsteps sipping cocacola
Buying tampons from the man at the corner store
And he forgets to put them in a bag
Men will forget these things
Maria blushes and shoves them in her jacket pocket

Tiny hurtling buses
18 & 32 turquoise and orange
Numbers written on a wrinkled note card
Shoved into a wallet, clutched in a trembling hand
With small rusty coins, counting change again and again
Hands grip metal grip seats grip backpacks
Balancing becomes an art

Show and Tell

Today for show and tell I present to you SCAD shorts:

they are often freaky and weird but undeniably entertaining.

http://www.scadshorts.com/

enjoy!

Walk

The Goldberg Family’s imposing silhouette filled the back row like a scrawny Russian doll set. The clan, which did everything together, was comprised of two girls, four boys, and two parents who had, on this occasion, unintentionally sat in decending height order. It was the Grand Oaks High School ’s 3rd Annual Film Festival and the theater/cafeteria was lined with two hundred twenty chairs sprinkled with about twenty two limp, nonGoldberg bodies.

It was Mrs. Melinda Goldberg’s clout in (and financial contribution to) the local Board of Education that was primarily responsible for the creation of this event, which just so happened to start the Freshman year of her aspiring filmmaker son Abe. Despite this fact, Abe’s film Walk only managed to win an honorary mention along with the other three films that earned no other distinction.

Tonights debut was not so much nerve-racking for Abe as annoying. His trophy-hoarding family lacked the capacity to understand how he had tried to get honorable mention – that he would have considered it a profound failure to receive a legitimate award at this joke-of-a-festival.

“Honorary Mention!” his mom had squealed upon the dinner-table announcement the week prior. The journey of her upper lip over those mother-of-pearl teeth that constituted her smile was an Olympic event she was proficient at – the unobservant recipient of which was left feeling thoroughly encouraged.

At five foot four, Abe was the shortest Goldberg which meant this night he was sitting by the aisle.

“It’s okay man,” his younger, taller brother Jake whispered to him “there’s always next…”

His words of encouragement were cut short by an uncontrolled burst of laughter elicited by the film currently showing which featured Mitch Perkins wearing a fat suit and fake side-burns.

After about 90 minutes of various other meditations on the general themes of fat-suits, fake facial hair, and air-soft guns, Walk made it’s debut.

For the next 15 minutes clip after clip showing random people crossing a crosswalk washed over a befuddled audience. All the footage was candid and each subject held in his or her hand a familiar red flag, which the city had put at every major intersection following a series of accidents. The only sound heard was that of a harmonica playing the same faint, lulling four notes over and over. The all-but-dead audience, desperately seeking stimulation, fluttered back to life during the clip of a guy with a mohawk who looked particularly silly carrying the flag across a road void of cars, only to sink back into discomfort and indifference. No credit sequence followed and the lights were immediately flipped on for the presentation of awards.

American Brothers Reunite for Korean Block-buster Reprisal

WASHINGTON D.C. – PYUNG YANG DISTRICT

The largest organized function the Pyung Yang District has seen yet, “Shane and Oliver Town: 2008!” is what they’re calling the festival-like events scheduled for July 5-14 honoring the much celebrated American-twins-turned-Korean-movie-stars Barrette and Marshal Green.

“Shane and Oliver Town” first aired throughout South Korea during the summer of 1994. The children’s television program intended for beginning English learners quickly became a hit and was later expanded into a series of films known for their cameos by some of Korea’s biggest stars.

The Green Brothers’ time in the spotlight was cut short just after the premiere of their sixth film “Shane and Oliver Town: Up and Down the Street” when the boys’ father, General Peter Green, was re-stationed to Washington D.C..

Over ten years after the duo’s last public appearance together, the recently booming Korean population in D.C. has planned for the occasion a parade, multiple autograph sessions, a photo shoot, as well as a ceremony in which the guests of honor will be presented with an honorary diploma from Pusan University.

Neither of the Green brothers were available to comment but it is reported that Barrette is a part-time English as a Second Language (ESL) teacher and Marshal is currently doing work as a bank teller.

rough cut

Here is a very basic (just using imovie) scrapped together product of some of the footage I took last weekend. I want to re-shoot a lot of this, but this should give the pacing/feeling I’m going for. and…I think I want to use that song. tell me what you think…keep in mind this is supposed to be very rough. and I’m just using a crappy home camcorder….

Three Thirty

Wide shot of the fronts of three houses at night. Extremely slow zoom and pan to the house on the right, an old two-story structure, vine-draped and sleeping. Faint blue moonlight mixes with the imposing street lights. Crickets are heard chirping. They get louder and louder, drowning out all other sound until they turn into an alarm clock’s buzzer.

Cut to inside Sharon’s room. She sleepily turns off the alarm which reads 3:30 and lies in bed for a bit more. Cue This Is Not the End by Laura Gibson. The camera follows in front of her as she rises, navigates blindly to the kitchen and turns on the light. Just as the light flips on, the left two-thirds of the frame switches to an outside shot in which we get a view of the left side of the house. From the (upstairs) kitchen window falls light that’s almost too yellow and we glimpse Sharon’s silhouette, which is in synchronized movement with the right third. Sharon is seen (in the right third of the frame) opening cupboards until she locates the sugar which she places on the counter and then walks into the bathroom. The camera, presumably out of shyness, does not enter with her. Door open, Sharon starts to pull down her pants and the right third blinks into place with the rest of the frame revealing the driveway to the right. After about 10 seconds, a toilet flush is heard and the Title appears – “Three Thirty”

A car pulls into the driveway. Jane steps out, walks to the front door and takes out her keys.

Cut to inside kitchen extension room. An unfocused close-up on Sharon’s torso as she mixes batter in a large bowl. An in-focus Jane walks up the stairs behind her. Sharon turns her head.

S: Hey stranger!

J: (genuinely glad to see her) Hey Mom! Haven’t seen you in weeks – how’s it goin’?

Sharon walks off-screen right, taking the bowl with her. Jane pulls up a stool and sits where Sharon was standing. She pulls out her cell phone and fiddles.

S: (off screen) Good. How was the party?

Jane, momentarily engrossed by her cell phone screen, doesn’t respond.

S: I’ll let you go to sleep.

J: (finishing a text message) What? Oh, no Mom I can stay up for a bit. I want to. Are you outa here, though?

S: (as she walks on screen, puts a plate down in front of Jane, and walks back off) They’ve got me doing this darn orientation again… So, anyway, I thought I’d make breakfast – you know, before I go tell a bunch of pre-meds how to undo-the process I might as well soak some flour in oil and (back on screen, plopping a pancake on Jane’s plate) put it in me.

J: Mmmmmm.

S: Oh, here… fructose.

Jane leaps up and puts a soft hand on Sharon’s shoulder.

J: I got it. You flip.

Jane gets the syrup and they return to their previous positions.

J: (cont.) The party? The gathering? Um, it was… as fun as those things get I suppose.

Cut to medium shot from Jane’s left allowing audience to see them both.

S: How’s Jill? Is she still… you know…

J: Adorably dysfunctional?

S: Well I was gonna say going out with that boy but…

J: Yeah – same thing. Um, I don’t know, she wasn’t there tonight.

Sharon joins Jane at the table with a stack. Cut to medium shot of both of them from the front.

They eat in comfortable silence for two whole minutes.

J: Do you remember what we used to call these?

S: You mean Flap Janes? I remember.

J: I would have sworn they were my favorite food. Then I ate too many and yarfed and that was the end of that obsession.

S: I remember I couldn’t have gotten you to eat another one if it was sprinkled with cocaine.

J: (only half joking) Well, I wasn’t too into to cocaine yet at age six.

S: (also half joking) Oh that’s right. That came later.

Semi-awkward pause.

S: (thinking out loud) Well look at us now…

Sharon looks off into space thinking for another beat then stands up and gathers the plates.

J: Thanks mom.

S: You’re very welcome My Dear.

J: No, I mean – thank you, really.

Sharon takes the dishes to the sink.

S: Oh, don’t mention it. It was interesting to say the least. I here boys make a better only child.

J: You ever wish you could have made Flap Jakes?

S: Goodness no. They may be better but they’re… boring.

J: We should hang out more.

S: Yeah… How?

They ponder on this for a second and Sharon’s beeper goes off.

S: (looking at the device, face tightening) Gotta go.

J: (As Sharon walks away) See ya. Thanks for the cakes.

Jane picks up her plate of almost untouched pancakes and scrapes them into the trash. The camera follows as she goes into Sharon’s room, changes into a large t-shirt and goes to sleep in her mom’s unmade bed.

The right third of the frame cuts to a shot of the house from outside revealing Sharon pulling out of the driveway as Jane slumbers in the left two-thirds.

After Sharon has driven away, the left two-thirds blinks into place with the right third, going to a wide shot of the house. Extremely slow zoom out as chirping crickets are again heard.

Fade to black.

Acne Brought Them Together

Acne brought them together. Their greasy snow-capped flesh mountains glistened under the flourencent public-school lights. Their embarrasment melted away into relieved jokes of cottage cheese and volcanoes.