"get some" 1st day of production

so production has begun. i'm excited. they got a real donkey! i mean, how cool is that?

ohhh, if he only knew....buggered N' blown up. 

nevertheless, here's some pix-care of the director; Christine Berg.

enjoy.

fight

first off, i'm not proud of this.  and i never initiated...

but i got in a fight yesterday. 

two, actually.

really. two. 

it's wild. when two men go at it. 

whaddya call it? fisticuffs?

but there's no rules. no outa bounds. no un-sportsmanlike conduct. hook and jab and throw a right-cross and hopefully you're not drunk and it lands. connects.

and i connected.

hard.

he went down. then a loopy left and i think i clipped his head and it hurt my hand.

he hit the deck-jaw jacked.

i took a knee and choked him out. 

rear-naked choke.

like perfect. didn't even think about it.

musta been jiu jitsu training a few years back

and he gagged. gurgled. i felt his pulse on my bicep.  and he went limp. just gave up. 

acquiesced. submitted. 

his friends should be ashamed. they watched. that's all. 

guess these guys were Woman Studies majors.

probably never experienced this before. a real shocker.

so he went limp as i choked him out, and i coulda done anything i wanted.

anything.

i didn't though. i went nice.

funny because as soon as he went out, everybody started yelling at me.

like i was a bad guy.

didn't expect that. did not at all.

the other fight was fairly lackluster. 

we wont discuss the lead up, but it ended with me clipping a man's cheek with my fist.

and another wild left. 

i went careening to the concrete.

hard.

and he fell on me.

hard.

and i kept punching. he got up and barked some bravado bullshit and walked off. 

that was it. no glory. no cowardice. painfully obvious we weren't professionals.

the end.

i wont see either of them again, i think.

but they will remember.

and so will i. 

love this guy

you gotta watch this. 

http://www.brandonhardesty.com/

good trash...

we all have our burning shit stories

a pistol factory south of Baghdad.

late in the War. combat operations over.

and i stood there in the sun while smoke drifted past my face.

and began to gag.

grabbed a wooden fence post and dumped the diesel.

a sizzle.

reminiscent of bacon or a porterhouse.

the smell: indescribable.

like food. 

baking. 

frying. 

burning. 

but wrong.

oh so fucking wrong.

burning human shit. excrement.

a horrendous job.

something akin to preforming colonics at a fat camp.

or burning genital warts of homeless hookers.

and as this task was passed day to day. from platoon to platoon. i knew my day would come.

it did.

the Corpsman directed me in the procedure.

he was rather enthusiastic.

quite odd.

a Filipino, and he told me to line the barrels in a row.

one meter apart.

when your shit is covered and aligned, pour approximately one-inch of diesel into the barrel of shit.

grab you stick. 

to stir.

and a wad of TP.

set ablaze the TP.

throw the TP into the barrel.

stand back.

stir intermittently in order to reach the bottom recesses of the barrel.

until the brown-green-corn-kerneled-khaki-glutinous shit has evolved into an inoffensive, almost welcoming fluffy white ash.

so i did.

and as the crackle of shit on the open flame produced smoke, i mused my future.

sure can't get any worse than this, i thought.

and it hasn't.

yet.

but standing there with my shirt off, soaking up the Iraqi rays, the incessant buzz of flies which periodically landed on my face, and the cremated remains of the camps colons wafted past my face,  i couldn't help but wonder what the fuck i was doing there. 

in this fucked up country.

with its fucked up people.

and its fucked customs.

and its fucked up laws.

no booze.

no women.

no sex.

no fun.

i mean, a man can be asked to burn shit, to kill people, to blow up houses, but jesus christ, doesn't he deserve a beer or maybe a woman-that isn't covered in facial hair, once in a while?

troop morale, yes?

but They opted for letters from our nations youth.

little suzy and billy. they love me. they "want to kiss the pain away."

thats what she said. this little ten year-old. 

pain?

"what the hell does this ankle-biter know about pain" I said.

i was mean then.

meaner than i am now.

a different person.

i stood motionless in front of these cauldrons of human waste.

and a mouse climbed a barrel that wasn't burning too much.

smelled something he liked, i guess.

and of course, he climbed too high and fell in.

into a vat of burning shit.

i let him burn. 

wasn't gonna chance reaching in.

not me. 

later that day i washed my face and sat by myself.

read the "iceman cometh."

finished it actually. and something came over me.

i didn't care.

about anything.

or anyone.

or going home.

or school.

or...

a character must change, my teachers say.

evolve.

through experiences. trials. battles. 

and i think i have.

changed, that is.

i think.

i hope.

sunken city

took a walk this afternoon. 

it was cold out and i smoked a cigarette while i walked. 

went to this place called sunken city. 

it's on the coast. overlooks the pacific. the harbor channel. and you can see catalina off in the distance.

gotta go under a fence to get to my place. 

used to be easier, but the authorities put up a better fence. 

don't know all the details, but from what i've heard, the place used to be part of a military base in town. 

but it sunk. 

literally. 

fell off and sunk into the ocean and all that's left now are hunks of asphalt suspended by earthen pyres. there's a few old palm trees and what looks like a railroad track and it's very strange and quiet and that's why i like it. 

maybe i like it more now. 

because of the new fence. 

now the gangbangers who used pound their malt liquor and smoke their mendo-blendo don't come as often.  

today no one was around.

just me and the sea.

the breeze. it smelled good. salt and kelp and wild fennel. 

sometimes i get ideas there. 

at sunken city.

but i didn't get any ideas today.

already had some things on my mind. 

an imaginary conversation in my head. 

he/she.

so i walked up onto one of those asphalt pyres and just looked out to sea.

felt like one of those indians. or maybe a spanish  conquistador. 

did they do the same thing?

years ago.

it was calm out there-the water that is.

no white caps. 

smooth and rolling.

like glass.

a fishing boat was drifting near kelp. 

could hear the guys shooting the shit. 

but i didn't listen. just looked. 

and the sun was orange red. glowing.

the fog rolled in. 

a blanket. it got colder. the sun kept sinking. 

and sinking. 

but i watched the guys in the boat: they pulled in their lines and i think they drank some beer. 

their boat bobbed in the water just right. 

just in that place where the sun comes down and hits the sea. broken by wind. 

almost static. 

and the sun kept dipping.

the boat took off. 

back to the harbor, i guess.

and i left sunken city.

under the fence.

scraping a knee.

passed several people.

some old geezers. 

a middle-aged guy with a poodle.

a pudgy gordita.

this black kid.

and they all looked out to sea. 

just quiet. 

hands in their pockets.

quiet.

walked a little more. to the old lighthouse.

and before i knew it, the sun had set.

gone.

it wasn't dark. but the sun was gone.

just like that. 

and the people still looked out to sea. 

the geezers. the guy. the gordita. and the black kid.

it was cold now and i didn't a have jacket.

so i went back to my car and smoked another cigarette and drove home under the fog.

the wrestler-a great film

under a big yellow moon

they said we had orders to stay on the main drag.

the tourist hot spots.
well-patroled, well-lit.
but it was my first night in Singapore, and i wanted an adventure...

cinderella liberty.

after three months floating in the pacific.

around the horn.

through the phillipine straits.
all the while on mess duty-a punishment of sorts, handed down by my SSgt.
a real prick. a sociopath. an old school Jarhead. the glue that holds the corps together.

so a few of my buddies followed me to the red-light district.

mostly good ole boys. christians. god-fearing. 

and they wanted nothing to due with the whores manning the dark recesses of that alley.
"you're fucking stupid, Mandia," one said.
"you're probably right," i said. "i joined the Marines."
but i pushed on.
down that dark alley with a sole buddy.
metal halide glowed golden and warm, casting shadows of men, women, girls.
we passed a young Indian girl. 

couldn't be more than 15. 

her hair: a rats nest of tangles and knots. 

she did not look up as we passed. 

but her pimp; a porcine asian man, sucking a cigar, sweat beading on his yellow forehead smiled at us.
"fiddy dolla," he said.
we didn't respond.
we weren't there for strumpets. especially kids. especially kids who've been forced from the government sanctioned brothels.
-most likely popping a VD test.
but we walked. slow, and i tried to take it all in.
these women, girls. their fat ass ugly asian pimps.
the oriental architecture-how the moon light fell on the upturned roofs and overhanging eaves.
two thai girls yelled from a window several story's up.
"come up army mens," they said.
they flashed their breasts. tiny little things.
"mosquito bites," we said . 

immature and baby faced.
nearing the end of that alley, three large women stood before us.

a blockade.
one of them grabbed my crotch. 
they wore cheap make-up and false eyelashes. 

six inch stilettos. 

garish wigs.

im pretty sure they were men.
or more like boys.
but we wanted none of that and continued on.

they parted as we shoved past their calloused hands.
the white lights of the street grew brighter. our gauntlet almost complete.
took one last look back. the shadows still there. outlines of women and girls. and those pimps.
smoking and sweating.

my buddy and i walked to a bar and sat inside on the second story. 

it was empty and we ordered two large tiger beers.
the booze went down good; cold and bitter and made us drunk very quickly.
i think we talked about life. what we were gonna do once we got discharged.

usc.

marriage. 

porches and mustangs.

the future.

it was new years eve 2002 back then.
and the moon was big that night. 

very big and very yellow.