INT. JOB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
JOB, (early 30's) pours boiling water from an electric kettle
into an heirloom mug.
His black cat, FANGS, races around the room, batting and
pouncing on a toy mouse.
Job carefully prepares a perfect cup of tea, then brings it
to his desk, where he sits in an antique, red leather chair.
He faces his computer. He brings up Final Draft.
He takes a moment to consider what to write.
From behind him, a voice speaks...
I know what you're gonna write
Job turns to face the ANGEL, glowing and beautiful.
Yeah. But not really about Judee
Sill as much as...
The Angel nods.
Job takes a breath. He returns his focus to the computer.
As I've gotten older... I find I...
don't get as excited about
musicians as I used to.
I mean, I'm still constantly
discovering music that blows my
But there's a certain feeling that
happens when you find an artist or
band that absolutely cuts you to
your core and records music that is
so... that so... expresses or
exposes or... gives voice to a
Well, something completely
personal. And maybe you don't know
why even, but when you hear it, you
recognize it deeply and... there's
an exhilaration you experience.
Job takes a sip of his tea.
When I was in my teens, it would
happen a lot. I'd go from "Neat
Neat Neat" to Kate Bush b-sides;
Sonic Youth, "Goo" especially, and
everything by the Pixies...
It seemed like, every week I'd
discover something that would rock
my world... And it was all so
emotional and personal and
Now those artists or albums come
maybe once a year.
I'm thinking of Judee Sill because
that was the last time I was
completely enthralled by a
musician's work. Where I couldn't
get enough. I just wanted to hear
her all the time! And she had such
a small output of music before she
plummeted fast on her downward
spiral towards premature death. And
with such abandon! Judee Sill's
descent towards annihilation makes
Billie Holiday seem prudent!
Job scratches his head.
He watches Fangs wrestle with the corner of his antique, blue
He sniffs the air disapprovingly. It reeks of microwave
popcorn. Not from his apartment; some neighbors.
You need to get to bed soon.
I know. I just... need to finish
off this blog.
What do you want to say? Do you
want people to check out Judee
Job thinks a moment.
Well... I know that not everyone
will love her like I love her. But
I do think there's a lot of people
out there who, like me, seem to
naturally gravitate toward artists
who live fast and die young. Like
Billie... like Ian Curtis...
You're falling asleep in your seat.
I know. Jeff Buckley...
Wrap it up. You wanna tell them
what her music is like?
No. I don't. I would say, read a
little about her first, then
listen. She's really smart, and
approaches composition with all the
respect and brains of Joni Mitchell
or Joanna Newsom... people who like
those two artists would probably
also like her, though she's totally
Okay, you did it. Come to bed.
Okay. But... I need a punchline...
something to close this neatly
Job turns around.
He sees your face, reading this blog.
He sees you nearing its end and lightly considering its
content, then browsing the world wide web.
He sighs and, like you, decides to move on to something new.
But... And this is what I really
want... I hope that some new artist
comes along soon - not necessarily
contemporary - but that I find some
album this year that totally does
for me what Judee did.
Okay. Prayer noted.
I don't think this makes for
Maybe not. But look... They're
still reading this.
Job smiles a little. He posts the blog.