Archive for the Writing Category

I Shall Be Released

Posted in Dream, Life, Love, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 6, 2013 by Patrick Roe

I have a hard time believing that all of the events I’m about to describe happened in one night. I feel ten years older today.

It’s been a couple hours since waking now, so the dream is becoming fuzzier. The first thing I remember is driving near some railroad tracks at night. After passing a bridge, I saw a dark structure with a courtyard. In the dream I remember thinking that I needed money so I went down into the courtyard, and low and behold they had items of extreme value, the likes of which I can’t describe without sounding ridiculous. When I attempted to take some of these items, I just remember that the building lit up with alarms that broke the silence of the night, the red lights illuminated the courtyard, and in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, I knew I was fucked.

I remember being hauled off to the prison, in the back of the police car, feeling the weight of lost freedom. They booked me and threw me in a cell. It was a two person cell, but there was no other person. Just me, and my thoughts. And it stayed that way. I don’t remember going to meals, except just once. I don’t remember the exact blueprint of the prison, I just remember laying on my back. Realizing that I couldn’t talk to anybody when I wanted to, I couldn’t go outside when I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything except lay on my back and think. And that’s what I did, and it felt like weeks within the dream.

Then I got out, but it was only for my court date. I saw my mom for the first time. She was so happy to see me, and so sad about my situation, but for some reason I got the feeling that she understood why I had done what I did. I remember the car ride to the courthouse, I remember having a feeling that it wasn’t real and I’d have my freedom back quickly. However the dream was so real, I knew that wasn’t the case. I don’t even remember the day in court, I just remember that since they had caught me red handed there was no real need for a long trial. I was going to prison, plain and simple.

Then I went back to my cell, and there was somebody else there, but we didn’t talk. I remember going through the motions, figuring out the routine, and always spending time laying on my back staring up at nothing in particular. Thinking. Through the magic of the dream, I endured years of this. Until finally the day came, and I was free once again.

For those of you who have read my previous posts, you will know that my grandfather recently passed away and it’s had a gigantic impact on my life. Well last night he appeared in my dream, picking me up from prison. As we drove, I noticed the roads began to look more European. Past readers of mine will also remember that I have a girlfriend, who lives in France while I live in L.A. for now. Well last night, Papa drove me from prison to my house and there she was. I was so happy she was still there for me, so happy to have my freedom back, and through the roof excited about the life that lay in store for me.

I share this dream with you, reader, because it was beautiful and eye opening in a way that mere words could never convey. I’m still working out the symbolism and meaning, but for now one fact is clear: I feel like I’m in a prison, and Papa showed me there’s a way out.

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The Heart Doctor

Posted in Love, Poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , on June 24, 2013 by Patrick Roe

Me:

Doctor if you could help me

That would be great

I’m running late

Leaving soon to France

Look at the date!

I’m putting things in order

There’s things to mend

But my heart, it isn’t right

It’s hard to pretend

It’s riddled with holes

It feels like swiss cheese

I didn’t ask for love

But when it came I said, “More please!”

I keep right on taking

To fuel the addiction

I drink as prescribed

To fight the affliction

But there’s nothing to take

To dull the pain

No articles to read

No friends to explain

What happens to the heart

When you experience trauma?

It’s hard, it’s real

I’m not causing drama

I’m flat lining doc

Should I call my mama?

I can feel it now

The beats are spaced further

Please doc, run some tests

Is it a heart murmur?

The Doctor:

We’ve found the trouble

Let me show you the scans

You should have come sooner

Please sit, don’t stand

This is your heart

And this is your heart on love

See the discoloration

The inflammation above

Take a pill for the swelling

This one for the cravings

Inject this to numb

Snort this til’ you’re dumb

If it should stop

Use these for electric pop

We’ll keep your heart racing

But never tip top

You may stumble, don’t worry

We won’t let you drop

We’ll keep the ticker beating

Even after you’re dead

Using stilts and rigs

We’ll prop up your head

The trouble with the heart

It wants to feel

We can put a stop to that

It’s no big deal

You think you have problems

Soon it won’t feel real

Check out these charts

And our prices, they’re a steal!

When Night Falls

Posted in Inspiration, Life, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2013 by Patrick Roe

“It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.”

-Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway said it best. The Daylight is a warm blanket filled with distractions that keep your mind occupied. Then the sun sets, the world sleeps, and you’re alone with your thoughts. Sleep doesn’t always come easy.

Tonight my thoughts are falling gracefully, which is a surprise given their immense weight. They have a clarity that allows me to have some handle on them. This isn’t always the case. Tonight is a lucky night, but sleep still won’t come easily.

I’m thinking a lot about the future, about the changes going on in my life right now, and about the path laid before me. I’m starting to realize what life is truly about. I’m excited to meet the people, see the places, and experience the things that will move and inspire me. I don’t want to lose sight of the miraculous in the mundane. Too many people get consumed in the mundane. I want to be a person worth meeting, to shake things up, and never get too comfortable with the way things are. I don’t mean to get heavy with the quotes, but Bob Dylan said this one best: “He not busy being born is busy dying.”

Truth is easily shrouded with emotion. Eyes are easily fooled by what they want to see. Our minds are often too bogged down to process the miracles we witness on a daily basis. To see the world for what it is is not a gift, it’s something you have to work hard towards if you want to get it right. To get the most out of life is more than just living it, you have to be aware of it.

The thinking and feeling of thoughts is where the true magic lies, so I won’t try to encapsulate them further and run the risk of cheapening them.

Tonight my eyes are open, and life is knocking at my door.

The Laughing Heart

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 18, 2013 by Patrick Roe

Bukowski. What words to describe you that have not already been used? You fill my cup. You help me drain it. You are dying proof that words are immortal. You’ve done more from your grave than a vast majority do in life, and in life you were the perfect blend of comedy, tragedy, and redemption.

I drink at one of your old haunts from time to time. Someday I hope my picture is below yours behind the bar. Maybe I’m a bastard for saying so.

Look at me, talking to a dead man through a computer screen. It might seem crazy at first, but sometimes there’s more life in words than flesh.

Sometimes.

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

Mission and Resolution: Freedom

Posted in Inspiration, Mission, New Year, Passion, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 23, 2013 by Patrick Roe

Someone asked me recently what my New Years resolution was. At first I said that I didn’t have one. What is the use of saying you are going to jog every morning, go to the gym 4 days a week, cut out all forms of sugar, if you are just going to give it up 3 weeks in? But then I realized that New Years resolutions don’t have to be some contrived piece of pseudo-inspiration that you only tell people in hopes that their opinion of you goes up a few notches. It can be something practical, something that really touches your soul and speaks to your greater mission in life. I realized that I had already thought of my resolution, and it was the same as the mission statement for my life/career: I want to write myself to freedom.

As an American, I join the citizens of many nations worldwide who consider themselves “free”. So you might be asking yourself, ‘Isn’t he already free?’ I first realized how much we have in common with prisoners when I fell in love with a French girl, only to realize that the only way she could stay in America is if we got married ASAP. We didn’t do it, and not because we don’t love each other enough, nor because we don’t plan on getting married someday (because we certainly do). It was just the idea that we were being forced into it. I would think one of the basic freedoms in life, and one of the qualifiers of being “free”, would be the freedom to be with the person you love. The way the government sees it is you have that liberty as long as you accomplish it through the means they have decided on. In other words, our freedom is on their terms, not ours. How many other freedoms do we think we have that really have strings attached?

Needless to say, this is a frustrating notion. However there is a light at the end of the tunnel; you can achieve that true level of freedom. We see it every day with famous actors, writers, directors, musicians, etc. You might brush that off as ‘sure, because they have money’, and you’d only be half right. The truth is that power is the currency of the free world that can separate you from all the people living restricted lives. Some may say that “money is power”, but I would tell those people to look at politicians, members of the CIA, FBI, and other government bodies, news correspondants, college professors, etc. All of which (with a few exceptions) do not have ungodly wealth, but have significantly more freedom to live how and where they want to than all of us down here gathering pollen for the beehive. How have they done this? All they have done is pick a path that they knew would ultimately lead them to a specific goal, and they stuck to it.

Jack London once said that he had great resentment for the upper  class. Since he wasn’t born with any form of spoon in his mouth, he made it his mission to infiltrate the world of the wealthy through the only thing he was good at: writing. And guess what? It worked. Not only is he one of the most highly regarded Western authors, he actually achieved success within his lifetime. To him it was one great big joke that he rose to their ranks with nothing but words. It is in his footsteps that I follow. I have committed myself to writing every day in some shape or form. I started by picking up poetry again, for my own enjoyment. I started this blog. I am putting pen to paper on a new novel (the first few pages of which are on a post below). And most of all, I am approaching my screenplays and teleplays with with a reinvigorated sense of passion and persistence.

In 2013 I am going to write my own freedom.