I'm getting two different dates here, Mayan calender speaking:
October twenty-eighth 2011 or December twenty-first 2012. It's all rather cloudy.
Mr. Weinland has his thoughts on the subject relayed to him directly by the God of Abraham. I've left his PDF book, 2008 - God's Final Witness, in Cool Sites. Read it, if you will, then cast your vote.
Homer says,"Time is accelerating. Hope there's beer in heaven."
OK. So. I play poker, right. And I have KK. And, a guy in front pushes from middle position. I'm on the button and middle stacked. I'm in the hunt. And we are in hour 7, of a tourney that normally runs 8 hours on the internet. Absolute slowest tourney of all time. Eleven dollar buy-in for a chance to win nineteen thousand. I'm already in the money, being in 26th spot out of a field of 19,000. Big field. 40 left. I have 3 point two mill. and that still only puts me middle stack. There are two guys way out in front.
He's just put his whole stack at risk.
Which leaves me, if I lose, out of the tournament.
I'm listening to this tuneage at the time. F.E.A.R.
I think: Did I just run into AA? I think: You know your KK kurse Scream. I think: Guys a player. He's a bomb. Doesn't normally risk a lot pre-flop. Borderline shark. I think: Can't fold KK. Ive won $307, at least I've won some already. I think: Call. I do: Call, I'm all in.
The rest fold.
I see his cards. He sees mine. He has 23 suited in hearts? WTF? Who is this guy? Sam Farha? Gus Hanson? A complete fuckin' donk who just made a real donk move? At this point I'm happy. No AA. Still though why push with that? I almost feel a twinge of sorrow for this guy; to play so long and push with that.
Flop comes: K A Hearts, 3 of Clubs.
I think: Fuck-off flush draw. I know 23 likes that flop. But I like it too. I'm approximately 2 out of 3, hearts don't hit on turn or river.
Burn and turn. 3 spade.
Good for me. I just hit full house. I'm solid. Flush draw is dominated.
The River card. 3 diamond.
Stunned silence.
Are you kidding me?
And then from out of the blackness, I can hear his YES! YES! YES! in my brain.
I can feel the blood rushing from my head. Brain cells begin to shut down. Runner Runner for quad? Shit for brains, gives me the sheepish "sorry dude gg" (good game). Whatever.
I just paid my hydro bill for three months and am royally pissed. That hand would have grabbed me a seat at "final table" for sure. Kiss $19,203 goodbye.
Ok. I'm not a big fan of the bluff and, to me, this is a bad play by Moneymaker. Sam on the other hand has played so many bad cards pre-flop in his career he probably psyched himself out with a fairly decent hand to Chris's shite. Money maker went on to put amateur and internet poker on the map. Nice legacy. And, Of course, the name helped.
As for Gus and Dan, well... the video says it all. But, the "huh" from Dan is my all time fave.
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The high points of 2007, poker wise, for me were: a first out of a field of 2596 and a second out of 2633, both poker Stars tourneys; Ring table wise, I knocked down one thousand dollars twice in two 12 hour sessions, playing dollar blinds. Starting with a bank roll of 200. I played in the Sunday mill three times on PS, finishing in the money once. All play was as "Alter-Ego Screamman", who holds the secret power of anonymity.
I'll give you a hint: he's a bomb, and he's a fish, and he's a shark. He was once a mouse. He never wants to go back there again. He likes to put an "x" before and after his xnamex. His avatar is somewhere on this blog, and it isn't Goatee man here. Get to work Holmes.
I decided to go with one of my online poker handles: Screamman. He's an enigma; a mystery wrapped around a piece of bacon and tossed behind a riddle. As the painting makes abundantly clear, there are many Screammen, each with his own super power, surfing the world wide web to spread peace and joy and happiness to all who need the solace of the Screamman.
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I'm a little busy right now doing a few screenplay reviews on Triggerstreet, so here's a very young Neil to keep you entertained while I'm away. Until next time my friends. Keep screaming!
I should have known. How could I be so stupid. (slaps forehead) There is another screamwriter out there. Uh huh. Yup. I need to change my name. I have to be singular. Unique. I must find a new name. Must ...find...new...name.
Oh well. Give me a few days. I'll come up with something. Remember, baby steps.
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Ok, so here's my dilemma. I have five finished screenplays. Each a different genre: one comedy, one gangster flick, a suspense thriller (It has ghosts in it and people are frightened. I actually shit a brick writing it), a poker movie, and a love story. Ahhhhhh, isn't that nice.
It has taken me five years. Five years of sporadic writing mixed in with bouts of self doubt, self loathing, writers block and serious procrastination, all the while holding down a job that I hated. (needed to eat and pay bills; you know, the same old working class hero bullshit). So now, as yesterdays post will attest, I finally gave up my job, and I am devoting my life to writing full time.
Part of the problem of course is: my family still needs to eat, and I still have bills to pay. I know, you're probably looking for your cheque book right now. Hey man, its OK. I won't ask for your help until I'm in some Dickens debtors prison with my bowl of gruel and people keep calling me Noddy Chuzzlewit.
Another part of the problem is bad timing. As some of you are aware (television and screenwriters especially), there is a writers strike going on. Any material sent to production houses now would be looked upon as rather scabbish and even if you were lucky enough to sell the script: does the line "you'll never work in this town again" bear any fruit on the other-writers-around-the-world-hate-your-guts tree?
So here I am with five screenplays, no agent, a writers strike, and 2800 miles from LA LA land. Snow balls chance in hell? Any suggestions? U huh. really?
Well, I'll tell you what: "give up" is not in my vocabulary mister! You hear me you rat bastards!
So if there are any positive suggestions out there I'd love to hear from you.
I'm feeling the love already.
In the meantime, here's a one page script treatment of what should be a familiar movie to you. If its not, then you're stupid.
For your perusal:
JAWS
Ext: - underwater - night
Shark Not a fuckin' thing to eat around here.
Ext: - beach - night
Blond Bimbo I'm drunk. I think I'll go skinny dipping in the foreboding chilly waters of the North Atlantic.
College Jock I'm drunk too. I'll watch. Damn zipper. How do you take clothes off again? Hey! wait for me.
The college jock passes out as the Blond Bimbo, ass gleaming in the moonlit night, runs into the water.
Blond Bimbo Hey come on in! Lets swim to England!
College Jock zzzzzzz
Ext: underwater - night
Shark I love this creepy music that plays every time I'm in a scene. Hey look at that ass. Yum Yum. If I wasn't so hungry I'd ...I'd...shit man, hunger wins.
The shark attacks by pushing Blond Bimbo to Nantucket and back.
Blond Bimbo Ouch!
Int- Brody House - morning
Chief Brody Gotta go Honey
Ellen Brody Something wrong?
Chief Brody In Amity? Nawww. I'm just glad I chose an Island to work on because of my childlike fear of water. Besides, we are too far north for a shark attack.
Ellen I was just thinking that. I'll go tell the kids to play in the water.
Ext: - Beach - Day
The deputy is blowing his whistle. This can be fun for the whole family.
Chief Brody Oh My God! Look at all those crabs crawling all over whats left of her mannequin-like hand. Ewwwww, that gives me the willy's. Get some signs we're closing the beach.
Deputy Mayor wont like it.
Chief Brody Fuck the Mayor.
Mayor You can't close the beach.
Chief Brody OK. I think I'll go get some sun.
Ext - some other beach on the Island only this one has lots of snacks - I mean - people playing and swimming.
Chief Brody Ha! Fooled him. He thinks I'm sunbathing but really I'm surveying the waters for a shark. Stupid mayor. Holy shit did you see that!
Ellen What Honey?
Chief Brody A shark just ate a boy and then a dog and then a yellow flotation device. I draw the line on flotation devices dammit! I'm closing the beach. No more swimming on my watch!
Ellen I'll go tell the kids to play in another body of water accessible to the shark. Oh and by the way, lets give him a name, lets call him Rusty.
Int - City hall - day
Some really fucked-in-the-head dumb ass is clawing at a conveniently placed chalk board with his finger nails.
Captain Quint Ya all know me, I'm Robert Shaw. Take your three thousand dollars and shove it. I want one million dollars and for that you get the head, the tail, the gills, the teeth, the dorsal fin, whatever is inside its stomach, and for only an additional 29.95, ya get the whole damn thing.
Chief Brody Deal!
Mayor Two million if you can do it in an hour.
Ext:- Dock - day
Chief Brody Who are you?
Matt Hooper I'm Matt Hooper from Marineland, But you can call me Duddy Kravitz. I'm an apprentice shark expert guy. I'll also be providing a lot of the humor for the film.
Quint Well I'm Robert Shaw and I don't like you. Now tie this knot.
The three men get on Quints boat and head out to sea as Quint sings a hearty yet salty rendition of "Born to Be Wild".
They chase the shark around the water for a while and then harpoon it with big yellow beer barrels. Quint sings the "Roll Out The Barrel" polka.
Hooper That sharks a twenty footer.
Quint Twenty five, three tons of 'em and, I might add, an excellent swimmer.
Chief Brody Why do I have to throw the fuckin' chum.
Int - Boat - Night
The men, quieter now after a rockin' day on top of Davey Jones locker, settle in for some rum and tales from the seven seas.
Hooper You were on the Indianapolis?
Quint Aye. We'd just delivered the bomb. You know, the one that turned the Japanese into fine makers of quality and dependable automobiles .
Chief Brody I know eh.
Quint Shuttup. I wasn't talkin' to you.
Suddenly, the Shark who is starting to get a little pissed off with his lack of screen time, attacks the boat. Huey Duey and Luey spend the next day fixing the boat while trying to kill the big fishie. Quint, after the previous nights heart to heart, makes us feel bad because he gets eaten by Rusty the mechanical-shark-that-doesn't-work-very-well (thus the lack of screentime).
Ext: half on the boat, half off - day
Rusty Burp.
We can see now, what we couldn't see before ( because Spielberg knows we're stupid and we fall for maudlin shit like this) and as it turns out, deep down Quint was really a nice guy with bad sideburns and his death does provide the necessary pathos but more importantly it finally got Brody to get off his whiny ass and do something. So the new improved pissed-off Brody throws a scuba tank into Rusty's mouth. Rusty begins to clean his teeth with it. Brody makes a one in a million shot with a wet rifle and blows Rusty up. Duddy Kravitz comes up from his hiding spot at the bottom of the ocean. They swim to shore.
Well, here goes. First entry of my blog. I'm still not quite sure what to do so I decided to jump in the deep end and either sink or swim. I'll be learning as we go along so, for now, you will have to painfully witness the birth of another newbie blog on the web so bear with me. (I promise things will get better, so suck it up and read on)
My plans right now are simple. Get my message out.
I recently quit my job to finally do what I have always wanted to do. Write.
Writers write and my job did not allow me to do that, so...fuck the job and get on with it. I quit! I emptied out my desk and walked out like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty. God damn that felt good!
Oh, did I not tell you? Yes there will be bad words spoken here, so please kids, just skip over the bad parts.
For the rest, I promise you, it will be interesting to some, and downright borrrrrrrrring to others, but, hopefully it will get you thinking and if I can stir that pot then maybe, just maybe, I might be able to stir up a little controversy as well. Amen.
In the mean time here is a little taste of Trent to tantalize your taste buds. Enjoy!
Part man, part beast,, he is a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls
and crushing ice. He laughs at danger, yet cries at weddings.
He writes award winning operas while managing time efficiently.
Occasionally he treads water for three days in a row. He can cook thirty minute brownies in twenty minutes.
He is an expert in stucco, a veteran in love and an outlaw in Peru.
He plays bluegrass cello, was scouted by the Red Sox, and is the subject of numerous documentaries.
He is an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie.
He does not perspire.
He is a private citizen, yet receives fan mail.
Children trust him.
He can hurl tennis rackets with deadly accuracy.
He has performed covert operations with the CIA.
He sleeps once a week and when he does, it's in a chair.
He can dodge as well as weave and his bills are almost always paid on time.
The laws of physics do not apply to him.
He has made extraordinary four course meals using only a bent spoon and a toaster oven.
He has played Hamlet for the deaf, performed open heart surgery, and once had an argument with the queen.
But he has never been to Disneyland.
