They say prostitution is the oldest profession in the world, and for that reason, I think my favorite term for a hand-job is an "old-fashioned."

Not this kind of Old Fashioned...

I love the nobility, and the sense of class that the term has. I also love that if the first part of that first sentence is true, then the second part must obviously be so.

This ISN'T a discussion about hand-jobs (or cocktails either), but rather about a couple of films I think would be fun to make, but never have. I wonder if by the time I'm finished here, it will be obvious to either you or me, the answer why.

I have this folder on my computer called "writing again," which makes me laugh every time I think of it. I've remembered to move it from laptop to laptop, every time I upgrade my computer, and yet, I still don't know why. There's another folder, a documents type folder that has every essay from college and every other damn un-filed thing but then this. This odd little folder with a few writings in it. Less than a dozen, with titles like "The problem is.doc" and "11-17 Wall Signers.docx"

A "Wall-signer" is a term I made up to describe a woman who comes over, sleeps in your bed, but doesn't have sex with you. This happened a lot when I was in my early twenties, fat and new to Los Angeles...

The one that caught my eye, when I found the folder this time was "I Don't Understand.doc". I opened it up and found the first page of a script I must have been working on.

It's just that page. It doesn't go anywhere further than that, but obviously I thought it WAS going to go somewhere.

The idea as I remember it, was that this guy wakes up one morning and for some reason, everyone around him sounds like a dog to him. Different dogs to be sure (I mean the girl at Starbucks wouldn't be the same type of dog as the homeless dude outside the McDonald's right?) but all dogs. He can speak perfectly normal, and is sure he's not going crazy.

This clearly causes him distress because he can't function normally at first, but then slowly begins to realize that his life is such a boring routine of repetition, that he is in fact able to carry himself pretty well in the coming weeks and days until he finally tries to speak to a dog (of which has been able to speak English just fine the whole time apparently,) and he loses his damn mind.

The second, and in my opinion, more "avant-garde" film is about the day in the life of a man told entirely from the perspective of a camera affixed to his wrist and facing his hand. It's an odd way to look at the world. The script might look like this:

INT. BEDROOM, Early Morning

We open in the the dark, a alarm sound goes off, the camera moves as PAUL's (28, underachieving) arm reaches over to grab his phone and turn off his alarm.
_

From there we would see him in the bathroom checking his email with his feet resting on the cold white tile floor in front of the toilet. We see him frying eggs. We see him driving to work. Hand on the wheel, camera viewing the road in front of him, until the arm moves to the radio to change stations and we move with it...

The idea was that we use our hands for almost everything we do to interact with our physical world, but since we now handle the majority of communication we have with the outside world through our phones, it might actually provide the closest look inside someone's soul.

You'd see him trying to cheat on his girlfriend via Tender. You'd see him purchasing drugs behind his office. You'd see him cutting up his chicken fried steak after selecting the least soggy / old piece on the buffet at the strip club. You'd see him squeeze a tit in the champagne room. And you'd see him hand cash to the stripper to get the $300 dollar Old-Fashion you new I was going to tell you about from the beginning.

Needless to say it was a bleak view of the world, and I didn't know why I felt the need to show that side of life. I also didn't know how to make the film happy in any way, because LITERALLY every idea I had for a story point from that perspective was bleak.

You could show him petting his dog, but wouldn't that immediately have to lead to him picking up poo with his hand in a bag?

You could show him high-five'ing his co-worker, but would you want to after you've just shown him NOT wash his hands after taking a leak?

You could show him caressing the face of his loved one, but from that close up angle, would you not be able to see the yellow discoloration of the drive home cigarette he keeps telling her he doesn't smoke anymore?

Other possible plot points included: Firing a gun. Strangling his boss. Pinching a co-workers bum. Jerking off on his couch.

And there it is, isn't it. The old fashioned AGAIN! That old stalwart. It was always going to come back to there wasn't it.

The last thing I'll say is that the ONLY thing. THE ONLY THING that you literally couldn't pull off in that movie would be a successful fart joke. It would just be too hard to stage.

Or would it.

Ok, picture this:

INT. OFFICE, Day

PAUL (28, sort of handsome, tired looking) walks to the elevator. We see the crappy grey carpet that hasn't been changed in years. We see little curls curls of pencil shavings from TAMMY's (37, single, red hair) desk. We see the fast paced movement of legs that need to get to the bathroom quickly but are too polite, or afraid of their own body, to run.

We arrive at an elevator.

INT. ELEVATOR, Day

Paul enters the elevator, and from the downward facing angle of his arm, all we can see are the pant legs cramped together of a full car. The light changes, indicating the doors have closed. No one is speaking.

There is the subtlest of movement as the leg on screen right lifts ever so slightly and we hear,

"Pfffffrrrrrnt?"

FADE TO BLACK.

Thanks for reading.

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