Tobin’s Island of Misfit Ideas

I remembered what your face looked like today.

          That pan-sexual impish grin with eyes

                      that light up the color of mischievous glee

          and your forever search for unadulterated fun

          all swirling into your alabaster implied-smooth skin

                     that releases a torrent of memories and emotions

                                in me that hurts raw, like I’m stretching

                                           atrophied muscles.

We met so long ago

           and I was in so much pain

           that turned into resentment toward you

                       and I still can’t tell whether it was misguided or not.

But the rush subsides and all I can think

            is that wherever you are,

                                                           I hope you’re doing well.

I guess that’s progress,

                 and I hope that’s growing up.

So I’m taking my failed one-act and turning into what will hopefully become the first act in a five-act play. This now five-act play on whole will serve as a love letter to the principle of spirituality, string theory, and my personal favorite atheist. High concept smigh smoncept.

Something I wrote and directed last spring. Enjoy!

Just wrote a fourteen page short film featuring sixteen characters who all have roughly the same amount of dialogue and screen time! *collapses*

In those moments that you think you’re going crazy, you’re actually

just spiraling into who you really are. Much like the lucid glimpses

of clarity a butterfly gets as it stares through the ever widening

cracks in its cocoon: It outgrows that old confining

reality to fly off into a newer, greater one.

What I’ve learned so far about writing:

If you can’t find the heart of the piece then find the wit. If you can’t find either then consider technical writing.

I’ve probably over-Godzilla’d myself. Last night I dreamt that I was watching a documentary on how Steven Spielberg’s Jaws was actually a remake of a 1950’s black and white Japanese monster movie. Though I’ll admit that the Japanese director that my brain created came up with some pretty thrilling and economic shots for selling the shark attacks. Crazy that my mind can create all that, but totally forgot that Jaws was first conceived as an early-to-mid 70’s Peter Benchley novel. xD

Alright! I’m on a roll!

*writes one page*

Aaaaand that’s all I’ve got…

People who can't draw: Drawing is fucking hard
People who don't try at all: Drawing is fucking hard
Teachers: Drawing is fucking hard
Beginning artists: Drawing is fucking hard
Pro artists: Drawing is fucking hard
Famous artists: Drawing is fucking hard
Extremely famous artists: Drawing is fucking hard
Long gone, passed away artists who went down in history: Drawing is fucking hard
People who are upset an artist won't draw for them for free: Drawing is easy!

When the Gremlin becomes a teenager, it’ll be like: “Don’t let him listen to She Wants Revenge or Eskimo Joe after midnight!”