.super shorts. .squared.

i went to see the oscar-nominated documentary shorts at out north and they were brilliantly wonderful, as i suspect they always are. i know you probably don't get a chance to see them (as anchorage is the cultural capital of the world, don't cha know), but the winner (the blood of the *fill in the blank of chinese word* district) was so powerful i wanted to rush over to china and pick up gao jun, this 3/yo 29 # AIDS orphan that was so neglected and stigmatized that he wouldn't speak and would be alone all day and night, kicking a pig and chickens to vent frustrations. it was ridick. he had 45 cd4s and a 2.5 million viral load and just had non-stop diarrhea because he had no meds. god bless you gao jun.

moving on to the "squared" portion of this entry, the anchorage press has this thing called super shorts, which is a competition to write short stories 200 words or less on different themes like "an erotic super short," "the raven's confession," "sarah palin's fantasy," [our repub guvner] etc. some are alaska specific, but on a whim, and because i had time yesterday morning, i wrote a few yesterday that i'll share, even though they're really not that good. well. in theory some are creative, i think, but i falter on the delivery. i imagine my feelings are a lot like screen writers seeing their finished project and knowing it's botched up. cue charlie kaufman.

the themes i chose were, "the raven's confession," "an i saw you ad," and "the mini-short." the raven's confession was a theme presumably because there's a zillion ravens in anchorage, scavenging for garbage and food and possibly to peck our eyes out. but. my creative twist: the raven is also a sketchy, nasty gay bar here...so...cue my short that tries to convey a confession from a bird but is really the bar...(by the way, 200 words or less is HARD)...

Dark. Oftentimes lonely. I feel used, abused, yet neglected.
Admittedly, I have an odor. Single. “Male.” On a Search.
Searching for my destiny. For my purpose. I have been around for
years. The years have gone by slowly, but I’ve seen my share of wild
antics. I’m always close to the action, but yet get none. My
existence has been a struggle. I feel insignificant. I’m aware that
there are others like me. Perhaps better others. More appealing
others. Please accept me for what I am. I accept you, even though
many others may not. Strangers filtering in, ignoring my role, awkwardly
striking up slurred conversations, smoking obnoxious Camels, drinking Budweiser,
drunkenly throwing darts, and searching for love in all the wrong places.
I live a lonely life here on Fourth Avenue; car dealerships do not make
good companions or neighbors. Confession: SGM looking for LTR with
someone.

next: an i saw you ad. this is a really funny part of the press (which, btw, is a great local liberal newspaper with a broad spectrum of articles, events, and editorials...fabulous). the i saw you ads are opportunities for people to write in about people they don't know but have seen and want to re-connect with in hopes that the other may read the ad. it's like the missed connections of craigslist. they're funny, sometimes romantic, sometimes stalkery, and the likelihood that there will be a re-connection is slim to none. so, here's mine:

I saw you while idling at a red light in my slightly dented blue ’94 Ford Aspire
near the Holiday in Mountain View. My windows were frosty and chilled, but
you warmed my heart as I glanced to the roadside, ever so casually, ever so
fatefully. You were wearing an oversized pink parka with white long
underwear and worn black boots. You were standing with a sense of purpose,
waiting to cross the street, puffing a butt, drawing the last bit of burning
tobacco. I wanted to roll down my window, but my handle is broken. I
was jolted from my gaze at you by the honking of someone behind me urging me to
leave you on the roadside. By the time I could turn my Aspire around, you
were gone. I have driven by the Holiday now for the past four days, same
time, putting along slowly in hopes of seeing, even if briefly, you, a diamond
in the rough. So far no luck, but I’m fixing my window handle in hopes
that the next time I see you a frozen, broken window isn’t my obstacle to love.

and lastly, my mini-shorts...a whopping 25 words or less. talk about hard! i had two submissions. "the man" one is a little confusing and doesn't really work, but, once again, in theory if i were a better writer...

They say: “Art is in the eye of the beholder.” Some of the art I see, I say: “I can shit art better than that.”

Man attacks man. Man attacks attacking man. Attacking man get hits on head.
Attacked man runs. Attacking man attacked dies.