Rewiring the System


Asoka

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on January 6, 2009


Asoka


Created:

The empire of the Spirit

Torture toward truth

Ethics and tenderness

The declaration of human rights

All men are my children

All animals have rights too

Protect all living things

Cruelty mirrors your true self

Goodness is the core of social activity

Perseveration by the rules of caring

For one another and by one another

This evening I received a request in an email to create a conversation about script writing and dialogue.

Most of my experience lies elsewhere not managerial but ephemeral. However, we all know that the real important energy is the quiet empty space between words between action, the silence pools in unexpected places. It can come to pass, though it is always a surprise when it does happen, that a manager is alive with a great big heart and an artist in his work. A person with an inner interest in human rights gives a great quality and an unmistakable certain touch to every relationship. All I need is a great idea. I have to especially know the idea I want to express from inside my bones. In all the activity and responsibilities, I have to separate out and choose an idea that is not one that is simply bankable.  A good idea that is attractive to the public will be accepted and bring equally as it gives. Nevertheless, I am more an artist than a banker so banking ideas are not naturally bubbling. For me writing just flows out of my bones… how do people decide to ask me questions about their projects? I hardly know enough to offer points about this little give and take. This sharing can grow out of a mutual caring. Not every writing hurls toward becoming, as this conversation sails through digital space, some coalesced construction we could look over my shoulder or I yours and listen to the reading of the writing. I do not have the meter for dialogue though I took a week long course back in my days in New Jersey.

Then there was that one afternoon I was in the Angeles Mountains taking a break from my research, to wander in the wilderness. I met a screenwriter who was also clearing his head by barreling along the tight winding roads on hid BMW.  Our paths crossed at an isolated burger joint/old cowboy hang out where old timey beans could be on my plate just as readily as the perfect French fries. We talked about writing for just the short time it took to feed and refresh and smooth out idea-knurled minds.

Writing can, in its ambition to communicate strength and reason simmering in a tender heart, clattered with the shuck stick in and under the warp and woof of that brief conversation.

Good writing is what connects with the listener and the reader. We emailed briefly about our projects and then evaporated out of that tired mind to each return to our individual projects.

I sat for hours on end at the Vienna Café on Melrose to eat excellent individually prepared classy and not over priced foods and spill my heart out through my fingers on the keyboard. I was welcome to sit at the maroon banquette where my computer could drink power.  Never rushed and always made to feel that I was an attractive part of the athmosphere as I sat and worked.  George was my favorite waiter; he was waiting for his first big break into the Los Angeles Industry. Many popular actors, directors, designers, painters, playwrites and creative people from each place of the city, came to read the paper and have a relaxing nutritious meal while watching the parade of the Melrose menagerie.

I would love to find a place like the Vienna Café here in Berkeley.  I have traveled to as many cafes as I explored my new home town. I should call and beg  The Owner of the Vienna to start a branch here in the foggy north.

Come then, you and I, into the crimson of the sky: did anyone ever call William Shakespeare, Billy?  It is a continuing degradation of inner reflection to being to the page a lasting fun frolic.

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