Inducing Vomit

New Year's Eve, I was pulling what has now become an odd sort of tradition. Wandered around Manhattan before the ball dropped, only to find a spot somewhere along 42nd street a few minutes before and at least be around others who would exercise that pre-kindergarten education and count backwards from ten.

This year I wasn't so lucky to even have that, got suckered into standing at a spot that some odd European tourists were staked out at. A small crowd built up around them, convinced that this particular spot had a great view of the tower. I figured that they would know, there were people with expensive cameras waiting, so I joined the rest of the sheep. You could absolutely hear the Times Square crowd as the seconds were ticking down, a wave of noise and energy which left the folks I was hanging out with utterly confused. A quick glance at the ipod with built in watch confirms the sad fact; it's a minute after and we missed the new year. A group of young girls, wanna be revelers realize their error and makes a run towards the mobs, but everyone else knows it's futile and slowly mopes away. No big deal for me, seen it the last few and there's always next year. I'm guessing it sucks for those tourists though, think I actually overheard a mother of one of those families request that if anyone back home asks, tell 'em they were witness to the dropping of the ball.

The story doesn't really have much of a point other than to illustrate the lame way in which I spent what most would consider a joyous occasion. The only other mildly note-worthy occurrence was the odd sight I spotted a bit after when passing by one of the many bars overflowing with humans. This guy, probably drunk and not feeling too well, burned his face when trying to induce vomiting using the same fingers that were holding a lit cigarette. A sad sight, but one that I think describes the way I've been making use of the last few weeks since.

I've been writing a bunch. Been meaning to for months now, had plenty of ideas I wanted to cover, but it just wouldn't come out. Few days after the new year, I wandered by a Starbucks and figured, why not? Went inside and after sipping on a hot chocolate, took the pen to the paper and just started madly scribbling shit down. Made a habit of it for the following two weeks and the end result is that I now have the first draft of a new script. So there lies the problem. Over the course of writing it, there was this odd arc of satisfaction I had with the material. At first it was just crap, but it was a first draft so it was to be expected. Somewhere around the halfway point I fell in love with it, a work of art! And then up until the last few words committed to ink and paper I hated myself for even writing it down.

Writing that much that quickly is very much an act of inducing vomit. Somehow I found the gag reflex and it all just came pouring out. My regret is that perhaps I may have been holding a cigarette in the hand when doing so. A lot of what I wrote was, if not blatantly personal then at least seeped in old memories. I would be afraid of showing most that know me this crap, it probably says way more than I would care for. However, once those last few words did come down, I fell in love with it all over again. I think it's either the best or the worst I've written, maybe both at the same time. So what do I do with it? Right now, I think all I can is move on to the second draft, make sure the stuff I like makes it to the page while the rest becomes more subdued. But it needs the stuff I hate to make the good stuff work. I don't know, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we cross it.

Yikes, think I wrote way too much, guess I still had some bile left in the gut.