Amoeblog

(In which Job abides a leisurely Sunday.)

Posted by Job O Brother, May 6, 2007 12:00am | Post a Comment
It is Sunday. There’s a warm breeze that skims our skin outside, keeping us from breaking a sweat, though the sun shines brightly. Even now, as I sit in the living room of my lover’s house, listening to a suite written by my favorite classical composer for a spring day, Delius, the light shines through windows and hits the blonde wood floor and white walls, casting a buttery glow; keeping it balmy, as though this room is an extension of some lazy park.

Upstairs, my lover snoozes; his body sprawled out and touching every corner of the bed. Napping on a Sunday afternoon – he is in Heaven.

I f***king hate it. I HATE SUNDAY! I hate the warm breezes and clement temperature that elicits such ridiculous adjectives as read above! Blonde wood and buttery glow? What the hell is this anyway – a porn story for an Ikea catalogue?!

All my life and especially as a child I have regarded Sundays as the day that fun “takes the day off”. When you’re a kid and still in prison… did I say “prison”? I meant school. Sorry.

When you’re a kid and still in Guantanamo Bay, Sunday is the day before you have to return to class. As if being a kid in the 1980’s wasn’t bad enough. Double whammy!

I am grumpy. The good news is that I took my last dosage of antibiotics this morning. For those of you who haven’t read my previous entries, I have been battling a nasty case of breast cancer.

(Regular readers will know it’s actually just an ear infection, but first timers need to be drawn in with something a little more dramatic and compelling.)

Anyway, I am listening to the British composer, Frederick Delius. You Kate Bush fans will recall a track on her enigmatic effort, “Never For Ever” a song that bears his name, which is her love song for this composer. Or maybe it’s just a metaphor for her angst over her bunny slippers. Or maybe it’s about a ‘shroom trip she had while churning her own butter. It’s Kate Bush, so how are we to know?

Silence of the Lambs

Posted by Job O Brother, April 24, 2007 12:47pm | Post a Comment

               INT. JOB'S APARTMENT - DAY

               JOB, (early 30's) sits at his computer, his head propped up
               by his left hand.

               He stares blankly at the screen.

               He types everything you just read.

               Then he types this.

               Then he sighs.

                                   JOB
                             (to camera)
                         I have an earache.
                             (beat)
                         I've never had an earache before. I
                         mean, this is going on one week.
                         And the last two days it's been
                         especially bad.
                             (beat)
                         It makes writing a blog especially
                         challenging, because the pain is
                         distracting me. Plus, pain is not
                         funny... usually.

Psycho 2

Posted by Job O Brother, April 20, 2007 08:57pm | Post a Comment

               INT. JOB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

               JOB, (early 30's) sits with rapt attention at his computer
               screen. He is watching "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman", a TV
               show from the 1970's that's recently been released on DVD for
               the first time.

               Behind him on the sofa is JOHN GAVIN, not wearing any
               clothes, a hibernating BLACK BEAR and a SPOOKY GHOST.

               John and the Spooky Ghost look bored.

                                   SPOOKY GHOST
                             (to Job)
                         Boo!

                                   JOB
                         Shh.

The Best Years of Our Lives

Posted by Job O Brother, April 14, 2007 08:44pm | Post a Comment

               EXT. GRAUMAN'S CHINESE THEATRE - NIGHT

               JOB, (early 30's) and his boyfriend COREY (late 20's), exit
               the theatre amidst the late-night crowds of tourists, all
               looking downward at the celebrity-made prints in the sidewalk
               panels.

               The marquee behind them reads "GRINDHOUSE".

                                   COREY
                         You like it?

               Job nods.

               Beat.

                                   JOB
                         Very much.

                                   COREY
                             (chuckles)
                         You're glowing!

Pennies From Heaven

Posted by Job O Brother, April 5, 2007 11:17am | Post a Comment


               INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAWN

               JEFF SMIT looks out the window of his penthouse office. The
               first amber glows of dawn pierce the horizon.

               He's deeply contemplative.

               A soft knock on the door.

               Startled, he turns.

                                   JEFF
                         Yes?

               Door opens. It is FELIPE, a night janitor. He is holding a
               bucket.

                                   FELIPE
                         Mr. Smit?

                                   JEFF
                         You all done, Felipe?
                             (Felipe nods)
                         Thank you.

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