Thursday, March 31, 2011


Juliet was the main character in a novel I didn't finished, Let Her Cry.  I'm reworking the novel, but this part probably won't appear in it.  Still, it's something Juliet needs to say...

Let her Cry
By Juliet Lourdes

Setting:  a small home in Los Angeles, CA


Juliet:  sixteen
Cristina:  Juliet’s mother, late forties
Dan/Danny:  Juliet’s father, early forties

Scene one:

Juliet lies on the floor of her bedroom with her feet in the air.  Her laptop is next to her.  She types with one hand as she speaks.

I’ll bet when people think of me, they are like, “Wow, look at her, she’s so cool with her clothes from Out of the Closet, all punky and retro.  She gets that from her mother, Cristina Lourdes, the actress.  Juliet’s mother is the coolest mother in the world…”

They don’t know us.  They don’t know that sometimes I have to lie on the floor with my feet in the air, counting…

Scene two:

Cristina and Dan enter the living room, just one thin wall away from Juliet’s bedroom.  Cristina slams the door behind them, then pushes past Dan and paces.

They hated me!  I’m not going to get the part!  I hate me!  You hate me!

Cristina collapses on the floor, bawling.

I don’t hate you.

They hated me.

No one hates you.

Dan tries to comfort Cristina, but she pushes him away and hurries past Juliet’s room to her own.  Dan stares after her, lost.  He goes to the stereo, puts on a Hootie and the Blowfish tune, “Let Her Cry”.   The lyrics blare, “And if the sun comes out tomorrow/ Let her cry…”

Scene  three:
Juliet, still lying on her floor with her feet in the air, gulps for air as she counts…

Eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven…

Juliet stops counting, looks at the audience.

“They” don’t know us.  Sure, my mother and I are close.  Sure, she’s cool.  She takes me to awesome thrift shops for clothes.  She’s my best friend sometimes.  She taught me that when I’m having a panic attack, I should put my feet in the air and count backwards from one hundred because if you’re counting, you’re breathing, plus, no one dies with their feet in the air, counting backwards from one hundred.  When I have a panic attack, it feels like someone’s going to die.

Eighty-six, Eighty-five…

Scene four:
While Juliet continues to count, Hootie continues to play in the living room – “And if the sun comes up tomorrow/Let her be...let her be.”  Dan gulps from a glass of scotch.  Cristina rushes out of her bedroom, runs to Dan and collapses against him.  Juliet is still counting.  Dan and Cristina hug-walk to their bedroom.  No one checks on Juliet.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Saxon (Sax)

Sax, short for Saxon, is an older OG, in her twenties.  Sax writes these short blurbs about things she’s noticed or seen or felt…

Sax:  What does love smell like?  A little stinky.  Pure, like a baby, but old, like the earth.  Fallen leaves on a fall day, sunshine on your back, a snowflake on your tongue.  Squooshy as a hug, strong as a heart, peace and creation and soaring through the sky while rooted in the ground.  Home.

Thursday, March 3, 2011


Ella read a New York Times article about posting videos of cutting yourself on Youtube.  Right Now, she is a star...
Ella first appeared in OGW 2/3/2011.

Ella:  My mother yells up the stairs, “Ella, you have to get dressed Right Now.”
She says, “Ella, the bus is coming Right Now.”
“I’m busy, Right Now.D” 
Only I don’t say that part.
Using a bent paperclip, digging in, dragging it up and down my arm.  Making a cross.
Right Now I’m making a short film.
I do this every day.  Right Now, I’m done cutting, and I check my Hits and it’s around ten thousand and that’s just since three weeks ago and I’m a star.
Right Now I’m a star, Ma.
My mother says, “I’m not driving you if you miss the bus, you’ll have to walk!”
I haven’t missed the bus.  I have time to pull a long, black sleeve down over my bloody arm, turn off the computer – password protected – tie on a choker of a fake cameo in a gothy-y cross on a ribbon around my neck.
“I’m coming!  Right Now!” I yell down the stairs, my voice running ahead of me.
I smile to myself.  What she doesn’t know will hurt her.
Only, then she hugs me, says, “I hope the rest of your day is better than the beginning,” and she means it.
Great.  Just Great. 

Right Now, I feel like shit. 
My arm stings.

oh boy
i am a star.
there’s the bus.