Skip to main content
No basement song this week. With the announcement of the Boss touring, I've been listening to "The Rising" and "Darkness" the past several days. If there were 200 or so readers, I would dish out another Springsteen song. Alas, with only twenty people checking out the old thunderbolt, it's just not fair to always talk about his music. So, I'll wait another week.

Besides, it was back to school night and I'm dealing with all of the anxiety that comes with the territory. Coupled with the fact that it is one thousand degrees outside (and we didn't melt, go figure), I just don't have the energy. Lame. I know.


As is customary in the world of the thunderbolt, I'd like to welcome Stacie, a friend from my NOHS days. Way back in 8th grade, I recall her having a crush on me and me, being Scott, I had no frickin' clue what to do about it and I probably listened to some of my idiot friends and blew her off. Did I call my friends idiots? I was an idiot. Anyway, she married a guy who I knew in high school. My last memory of him comes from a sincerely out of control party I threw at my folks house back in '87. That I spent another year with him in high school tells you how much damage I did to my brain cells while attending BGSU. Anyway, she contacted my friend, Cindy, who gave her the blog address and now that I've completely bored the shit out of you, I will end this story.

There is another guy, Steve, who leaves comments every now and then. This is not my best friend, Steve, who visited me last spring. I know this because Steve is constantly complaining that he is computer illiterate. So, Steve #2, whoever you are, drop me an email and I'll add you to the basement song list. If you love getting your email box full of music, I'm your guy.

So, I guess that ends today's entry. I was quite stoked that I walked approximately 100yards out of the house this morning and felt the driving urge to turn around and go write. It has been a long time since that drive has been in me. If you're a writer, this is the greatest feeling. For me, it means some of the fear I carry around with me is lifting and I'm excited about the work again. Someday, when I finish this damn screenplay, I hope to feel this excited about writing that novel I've been threatening to tackle for, oh, six years now. Ah, who am I kidding.

Well, I'm off. I hope to write this weekend. I really want to post a review of "Super Bad", the new Rilo Kiley and Crowded House albums, and talk a little bit about the great television shows I've wasted my time watching this summer. Anything to distract me from the laptop and cystic fibrosis.

One final note. I'm not a super political guy. I don't claim to have the insight like my friends Blake and Steve. Most of the time, I go with my gut. And my gut tells me that two years after Katrina, New Orleans is still trying to get back on her feet. Where is the money promised by the government? Where is the manpower guaranteed to help the rebuilding? This is one of the greatest embarrassments of our government. These people are our brother and sisters. They still need out prayers and help. This weekend, as we hang out on the beach or grill up the dogs and burgers, take a moment to send a good though down south.

Aloha

Comments

Stacie said…
Hey Scott!
8 th Grade Crush huh???? You have a much better memory than I...But I cant remember what I ate for Breakfast...

I Remember Dave telling me stories about his adventures at that party! I was there but didnt know him then. I remember having a very ugly conversation with an ex- boyfriend in your basement. But then having a great time !!
Ok...So maybe I do have a memory?!?

Popular posts from this blog

The Beginning of an Explanation

When I dropped off of the Internet, it wasn't meant to be a years long sabbatical. I thought I just needed a break; that I was getting burned out from writing Basement Songs and movie reviews for Popdose.com. Something cracked, though, and I couldn't consider writing even in a journal for a very long time. Things changed in the winter of 2017. While driving to pick up Jacob at theater rehearsal, I experienced my first panic attack. It started immediately after he got in the car at the theater and it slowly took over my body for the fifteen minute drive home. My skin became clammy and I felt myself removed from my body. My brain was empty and I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I gutted it out until we walked through the front door. Without saying a word, I went upstairs, crawled into bed and got in the fetal position. I just wanted to close my eyes and shut out the world. The next morning I awoke exhausted, as if I'd exercised the previous day. That was the first time
MARATHON FOOTNOTES (for those who didn't think I would really footnote a stream of consciousness thought): Footnote #1 Academy Award Winning Best Picture Films from 1969 to the Present: Midnight Cowboy, Patton, The French Connection, The Godfather, The Sting, The Godfather II, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Rocky, Annie Hall, The Deer Hunter, Kramer Vs. Kramer, Ordinary People, Chariots of Fire, Gandhi, Terms of Endearment, Amadeus, Out of Africa, Platoon, The Last Emperor, Rain Man, Driving Miss Daisy, Dances With Wolves, The Silence of the Lambs, Unforgiven, Schindler’s List, Forrest Gump, Braveheart, The English Patient, Titanic, Shakespeare in Love, American Beauty, Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind, Chicago, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. Footnote #2 Members of the band YES, from 1969 to the present: In 1969, Yes is formed with Jon Anderson on vocals Peter Banks on guitar, Bill Bruford on drums, Tony Kaye on keyboards and Chris Squire playing bass. This group records

The End of the Explanation

I don't want to drag this out for a series of extended posts; there's no need to go into the minute details. So I'll wrap up my ongoing mental health journey with this post. After I basically quit writing, I began the work on myself. From 2017 to the middle of 2019, the only things I wrote were 10 minute dramas for our church, and let me tell you, even those were a challenge. But when God gives you a deadline, you don't mess around. There was a real depression that came with the relief of not writing or worrying about writing scripts. Again, if I wasn't writing, what was I doing? I really struggled with this question because we had moved from Ohio to Los Angeles so I could pursue a career in film. Even though I'd written and directed a movie, and sold a script, in my mind that wasn't good enough. I couldn't appreciate all of the great things in my life, and the solid career that I had forged in animation over 18 years. It took some real work: a lot o