Dumb Waiters: The Awakening by Bailey Johnson and Kyle Brown is today's feature on One Thousand Worlds.
Dumb Waiters: The Awakening -
Bailey Johnson and Kyle Brown are close friends who met in Atlanta and found a unique bond through this love story, called The Coagula Series. Ambitious, stubborn, passionate, full of faith, it was Bailey’s idea to make an epic serenade for one special person. The guys live in Colorado and Florida, respectively, and are currently working on their next episode.
Dumb Waiters: The Awakening -
A young playwright
becomes aware of many possibilities. He lives in a nightmare of success –
dissatisfied – the only girl he’ll ever love, seemingly lost to something
rotten on the inside.
Chris Lujan is a sailor
at heart, a California vampire, one foot out the proverbial spiritual door…
feeling that sting of the Otherworld, heritage and repeat routines.
Jake Konstantine is a
policeman-turned-drug-counselor’s son – an artist – faced with an identical
problem: the doom of the ‘80s, his own favorite witch, the consequential need
for distraction.
Tom Brinn is an Irish
author, warlock, champion of enemies. He’s the old magickian, king of scribes.
He knows our world is littered with angels. It’s the control of soul…
What if Jung’s theory is
right? That we’re all one person experiencing itself subjectively… as we yearn
to make the right choice…
We’re all in this together.
About the authors-
Bailey Johnson and Kyle Brown are close friends who met in Atlanta and found a unique bond through this love story, called The Coagula Series. Ambitious, stubborn, passionate, full of faith, it was Bailey’s idea to make an epic serenade for one special person. The guys live in Colorado and Florida, respectively, and are currently working on their next episode.
It starts with a guy
wondering what he can do. It starts with a girl overthinking and ruining a
beautiful thing – the absolute very best way to describe it.
I’ve made a good choice
and keep wondering. I’ll type my way to something. I’ll defy all convention and
take unexplored chances.
My sole purpose – hope.
Simple, said the writer
– simple enough.
1.
SNUGGLE STORIES (A)
Sometimes it won’t go
away.
This is a love story. It
doesn’t start at the grocery store – a boy and a girl reaching for the same
type of cheese – metaphysical, it’s all we’ve got – nothing else matters.
So, here I am with the
beard all grown out – ‘cause I know that’d get her off. She thinks I’m no good
at the moment and I’m thooid – missin’ her so bad. It’s never been about that
for me – not with her – but it is right now.
‘Down, boy!’ I think for
a laugh.
Anything, anything to
shake da loneliness tonight.
I can only take
consolation – hell, who’m I kiddin’? I’ll just go about my special job and
everything I feel for her is breathin’ on the paper. That’s magick, old girl,
and I cannot hide it anymore.
It’s time to rethink
your perception. I’ve been using that word more often. This is the urban legend
of the young writer using what shakes loose – “Yeah, I can handle it.”
Yeah, he’s still tryin’
to say it.
He can hear the
“friends” yellin’, “Chain his feet.”
Watchin’ people
yet-moved – still deranged – we’ve given time to this, it should stand for
something. I know I heard someone cryin’. Yeah, I’ve heard you scream, for
peace and prosperity, for warzone acceptance and the life less-ordinary. So let
me do something about it.
We’re not what they want
us to be. Thank God for that. Now I’ve thought it strange, why lie when it’s
the truth we saved?
Go down – on it – I’m
aware of what you want.
Preservation – yeah, I
want it, too.
I can’t remember – not
the first time – not so well. Maybe I have changed; too many glory bowls in
Vegas; too many intimate discrepancies wanting this girl who’d talk and treat
me like a human. Casino shelter – meatloaf and a highlight reel: the boxer vs.
my one-track mind.
What happened to your
passion, Chica?
Are you ashamed… ‘cause
I found it? ‘Cause I love it? ‘Cause I want it more than anything in the whole
wide world? Some things will never change… thank God.
I want you, I want you,
I want you.
Turns out this geezer
snortin’ bets has a wife. They’re cute together. They ask me about the future.
I’ll tell them about you. “Honey bear,” it’s said with despair, “She won’t talk
to me now.”
The lady wears a bingo
shirt – the champs of Miami-Dade.
“Don’t fret. Watch it
happen. I can see dissatisfaction. I could tell you there’s another way, but
the system here is torn and frayed.”
One flash and they’re
gone. So what now, art student? Mashed potatoes melting, bits of green beans
left unpicked, thinkin’ ‘bout the right words. Half-awake, she takes up
questions that challenge the unfed head. You know… most people would give up.
(oh, don’t fall)
(it’s just a mental
booty call)
I want it, I want it, I
want it–
That’s magick, old girl.
She calls at midnight,
my time, bragging of her self-imposed restriction. She sings, just to make a
point of our humored shell – green fire, greatness. She tells me what I’ve
wanted – anything – anything to get back. She said, “I’m scared…”
I said, “Don’t be.”
She said, “How could
you?”
I said, “‘Cause I know.”
She said, “It’s just a
lie.”
I said, “I don’t believe
you.”
She cries. She hangs up.
I call her back.
Be love, son. We may
have lost our way. So they say, so they say. I see deplorable vanity and equate
– unfair – but I don’t see the world like that. I’ll fight it every day.
With words, we’ll find
what’s missing. We’ll have it – again – with a future, kid. I walk, Strip in
sight and trudging a side of the road – telecommunication.
(it will never be just
one thing)
2.
JAKE
“You wanna talk about
theme?”
“That would be a good
place to start.”
“We need a miracle.”
“So let’s make it
happen.”
“I don’t know where to
start.”
“You said theme.”
“America.”
“The melting pot. The
Red Mass.”
“Separation of church
and state…?”
“There’s no such thing.”
“So… Gatsby?”
“Maybe.”
“So, it’s all an
illusion?”
“Basically.”
“Like an Atheist in
search of proof…”
“Schrödinger’s cat.”
“It’s alive… It’s alive…
It’s alive…”
“Cute.”
“Validation?”
“Sure. From these pesky
brunettes and good people in Hollywood.”
“Ya still in the
doghouse?”
“The silence is
deafening.”
“So… Gatsby?”
“Maybe.”
“You sound jaded.”
“That’s not good.”
“You wanna talk about
theme?”
“American life…”
“The duality of man…?”
“I didn’t think we
mattered anymore.”
“You shouldn’t think
like that.”
“Why?”
“You’ll go crazy.”
“Plastic.”
“Don’t be vulgar… You
mentioned The Red Mass.”
“I think it’s wrong.”
Jake said, “How do you
feel about empathy?”
Chris said, “It sucks.”
3.
THE BLACKOUT BOYS
It’s the illusion of the
objective.
It’s not that I’m
impatient.
We have a job to do.
The play’s a big
success, but I’m not satisfied.
Five acts – off the oil
to the church to a compound in Texas. Guilty prisoners stay captive, having
kidnapped our heroine for her failure – but she escapes. I end it on her knees
and laughing. I kinda stole it from this western that no one remembers.
That
dream I told you about – you were smiling.
I get my hands on a few
bucks. I bomb and Jake flies from the hometown and follows my footsteps –
forget school, forget the system – almost forget the girls, but then we get a
better idea. The actress is picked up for a new pilot, we write another play.
No comments:
Post a Comment