July 2 – “nm”

Twitter would be so much quicker, but this has to stay private. I’m neurotic. Nate found me, and I think everything’s going to be ok. I need to find Eve. She’s here.

Signed,

Thee Arte

Advertisements

July 2 – I Hate You

There she was. Right in front of me, like a blooming flower in midday, it was so impossible, yet here the contradictory laid. I couldn’t imagine something so real and so fictional all at the same time. It almost made my heart break. I held back the tears, the memories, the “what if’s” crawling around my mind these past few days. I felt sick… And of all places Miss 626 had to be lying in the bed of my only communication line between my film and our first encouter: Nate. Why did it have to be like this…

After days of writing in this journal, I’ve finally learned the craft behind writing a good story. It’s been good practice for my grammar and format, by pen I’m almost a master in my own eyes, but by speech I am still, well, speechless. As much of it I have been taking care of, it didn’t help me prepare for the real thing. Not like this.

Early this morning, I came to pick up my phone from Nate’s apartment. I didn’t want to be disturbed while I was finishing my submission for the Grant, so I made sure he kept it away from me, in case I had another temptation to call Miss 626 in the middle of the night. Now that I know she’s more abused than loose, a tragedy like that would go unsaid until someone else can do something about it. A car door was too much for me. I imagined myself as her hero at that particular moment, when her date made her cry at that stop, but I suppose I needed to be faster, stronger, more of a man. I considered myself a coward for not acting so quickly. Damn my nerves, I swear…

But of all times, right when I completed my project and submitted the final cut to the upcoming film festival, I return to my phone, to Nate’s alcohol, to her…lying unconscious on his bed…his bed. I swore I woke to a nightmare when I found Eve. The walls came crashing down, and my lungs suffocated under a thick mist of jealousy. Was he to become her hero? What was there left for me? I signed the form for the Grant, confessing my ardent piece, revealing my soul through her face, Shakespeare, and stupid rap music! It was suppose to be art, it was suppose to be a masterpiece, but right then, just as I saw her snoring in between his sheets and my cell phone, I affirmed the pervert Nate had to be. The Bartender and my bane. GOD, WHY!!!

Why did she sit there with her dry lips and dampened face, sounding like a trumpet — young strumpet, are you real at all?  What was all this for, if it were to just to end in humiliation? I think, I do think too much, and much too much am I finding myself more and more hysterical, lyrical, but hysterical. God, why-God-why???

I left my car, and walked home. I have my phone, but I don’t think I’ll be able to pick it up for another year. I wish I were quicker, stronger, more of a man. Maybe none of this would have happened. Eve can stay as Miss 626, for all I care. I’ll stay in hellish Northridge forever, and forget that day of paradise between her smile and voice and shoulder and phone number. My fingers can be wiped clean now, her number’s no consolation anymore. I hate the world, I hate being me — twenty-something and a stupid artist, as if I didn’t feel isolated enough for being only half Asian, my friends have to rub it in my face how slow and weak I really really am! I hate you Nate, I hate you. And Eve, how could you?

I’m in the bus and I

I didn’t take a shower, and I’m here at Ho

I’m about to flush the toilet, my film’s about to show. At least if I get this Grant, I’ll be rich enough to move out of this city. I hate Hollywood, but the festival is here, maybe if I make it in the Indie scene, I can go to the festivals in Texas instead. But for now, the Egytian Theater is all I got left. If I lose, at least I can end my career in Art today, and get a job at some Insurance company in the Midwest, where dreams are just another TV episode on Lifetime.

July 1 – My Eyes Burn

I took a break from the past few hours of video editing. I’m thinking of refilming half of the project, but I’m running out of time. I bought the envelope and SASE package already, and the LA Post Office has a drop off service open ’til midnight. I’m thinking of just dropping the whole project altogether, if I can’t finish it on time. I could just post it on YouTube and probably sign up with Google to earn my money that way. It’ll only take…a year, at least. Yeah. Good plan. Amazing. I should’ve thought of that before I bought the envelope. It’ll only cost me a new video card, after the abuse I put my laptop through, right?

Left the apartment to walk to the nearby liquor mart, hoping I could buy more milk for my cereal collection. I’m a brand whore when it comes down to that stuff. Forget clothes, I could rent a suit when Nate gets married. To who, I could only imagine. Girls flock to him every night anyways. Thinking about it makes me gag. They flirt, he flirts, they try to leave, he charges, and he never misses a customer. Not sure if that’s out of sport, or what?

I was about to go back, since the liquor mart was closed. Wish I stayed in, because the moment I stepped back into the night, I saw her. You know, Miss 626: Eve.

My heart never skipped so hard. It never broke so quick either… I saw her, riding in the passenger seat — with another man! I thought maybe it was her cousin, but he didn’t look anything like the sort. She walked with another man, the last time I saw her, who’s to say that this wasn’t another date with another gentleman? He was pretty and slick, and she matched him. Like an old 80’s romance comedy – a match made in heaven. They looked like they were the perfect couple: solid, grown together, finishing each other’s sentences. You could just tell by the way they were interacting.

I couldn’t stop staring. I thought hell froze over and Lucifer was torturing me for the last time with a rewind of my worst nightmare. Their conversation ended at the nearby stop, right in front of me – only six steps away from the entrance of the liquor mart. Eve turned to her side, looking down at the pavement. A tear dropped from her eye, and my heart skipped another beat.

The world was on pause, when I caught a glance of that moment. They didn’t look like they were fighting, so why did she cry? My legs felt electricity surge between that second. I wanted to leap and her rescue, and take her away from this pretty boy keeping her captive in his teal jeep. I’d sock him in the jaw and spit at his face. He could burn, for all I cared. Eve would stay with me for the night, and we would talk things through – work things out, make things better, that kind of…thing.

My legs drew strength from my veins. My heart seemed harsh on my pulse. For right at that very moment, I took the weight I buried deep in my thought, and demanded that Eve would have the right man. If it weren’t me that moment, then at least it wouldn’t be him either. I drew closer and closer, with my nostrils blowing fire from my blood. I nearly touched the handle of her door, but right before I could’ve taken another step – as if gravity wasn’t already in my way – the teal jeep sprung forward! Leaving me in the night, alone, and furious. I know life isn’t fair, but it doesn’t have to be like this. Not like this, not like this… A woman like her shouldn’t be pulled around by these men, the kind that just break her heart and pass her around, like some dame! I see exactly what’s going on, and I am not standing idly anymore. Something has to be said, and I’m tired of being such a damn coward for holding back. Who knew she was treated like that, no wonder she never called back!

I don’t care anymore. A lady like her shouldn’t be tolerating this. And I know exactly how. For her.

 

June 30 – Mockumentary

It’s day one of getting my life back together. The past journal entries have been taped to the first page, so I could continue using this fancy blank book for my personal logs. It cost me $15 at Barnes and Nobles, I am not throwing this thing away!

Anyways, I’ve been filming. The sound quality’s been off, and I’m thinking of buying a filter to take care of the hissing noise between scenes. I’ve been having a tough time balancing the sound, and editing with every program I’ve downloaded on my laptop’s no help! I’m not good at this stuff. I’m better off working from the source, and get it done right, at the time I record: as is.

I got to meet up with Nate earlier this morning, and he said that my stuff’s not anywhere near what it used to be. He tried translating my film, but it wasn’t making any sense to me at all. He said the word conceptual and religion in the same sentence, calling my shots askew and 80’s, like there was anything wrong with changing the color on the scene. There’s nothing wrong with re-saturating the garden scene to blue! I am perfectly capable of making artistic decisions on my own film! Who does he think he is, telling me what my work is really about? I just wanted him to see it, not tell me my soul’s flawed! There’s nothing wrong with it!

Anyways, he handed me another Duchess, the last beer from his last stash. I couldn’t remember much of what happened afterwards, but since I got back up from what seems to be a two hour nap, I’ve been doing nothing but edit my film. I don’t know if it’ll be done soon, but one thing’s for certain: I need to get that Grant!

I only have ten hours left until the deadline…

June 29 – Moving On

It’s been five days since I called her back. I don’t want to try again. I’m not a stalker, not anymore. I don’t want to be one of those guys that chase after a woman, and get with them because she finally said yes, after months of “bumping into each other”. If anything, the internet taught me that I can talk to other people, and they’re willing to reply sooner than Miss 626. It’s not that I’m scared of rejection, or anything. I just don’t like the idea that I’ve been obsessed over a girl that I met only once, and scoured my list of potential links to her name…which I have in my possession now! It’s creepy, and I don’t like it.

I guess this is where the man is suppose to meditate on this lovely coincidence and romantically sing praise to the best day of his life, meeting her, right? I could say she was the girl that got away, but we only met once. I could say that I didn’t even try, but look what happened when I did? I could say that I did try, but to what effect? I’ve lost sleep, I’ve lost time, and even if I had my health, I must have lost it somewhere along the way too! There’s no point in chasing a girl, if I’m just going to lose myself in a tunnel of pity. What am I suppose to say? “Hi, I have no life, no money, and wasted my minutes on you, after losing my dignity calling the Huntington for your name?”

Sure…weirdo.

Forget that we clicked that day, forget that I became someone else when I sat next to her, forget what happened! Who was that anyway, chatting it up, getting into her personal space like that? I want to be me, myself, no one else. Leave me to my inspiration, and let my muse be my lover. She at least puts my heart at ease. I can roam where I want, do what I want, whenever I want, and SLEEP! …alone…in my studio apartment…like I’ve been for the past year…watching people from a distance, filming scenery, and talking to the only Bartender that won’t give me a decent conversation unless I get drunk with him.

Dear God…what’s wrong with me?