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Thu, Mar. 17th, 2011 | 12:01 am  ⅊ bedroom ‏‏␦ sleepy  Light years away - JOE SATRIANI slavezombie


Plot
slavezombie

Before I forget. It never fails that I'll pick up a book on screenwriting techniques for inspiration, then, in the middle of reading, I'll have a few ideas on how to get around the writers block I'm stuck on. However, I won't set book down to write, and by the time I finish chapter, I've forgotten what I was thinking of.

The gist of it is I'm almost too tired of writing by experience. My life is just too lame to have even the slightest impression that I lived through all those situations that are still in my head.

Here goes anyway, before I forget again.

Protagonist: it's not that I'm impotent. I'm certainly not gay. I happen to love women too; it's the only way I can rub one out, looking at dirty pictures.

Protagonists friend: Then what's wrong with you? Are you ree-TAR-ded?

P: No. I don't think women like me.

PF: They don't have to like you. I know where swarms of women hang out just to get laid for the moment.

P: I doubt that's going to work for me. Besides, if there isn't intimacy, how long you calculate before I kill myself for not being able to perform in the middle of all the humping?

PF: you're disfunctional? Take Viagra.

P: I'm as horny as they come. It's just... Nobody satisfies me the way I know how. Plus, I'm always thinking of the aftermath. You know, the hair razing tantrums from the girl if she expected more than a fling.

PF: I'm telling you, I know where there--

P: You're not listening. I'm after Paris Hilton quality booty. What'd you think that's gonna run? I'm not rich, you know. The classified section doesn't pay very much more than administrator. Or, what's your title? Receptionist?

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