MY ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE (OR LACK THEROF)

Being that this is Oscar week and all my esteemed writing bud Absolutely*Kate asked many of her peeps to provide some sort of film-related content for her nifty showcase At the Bijou. Being that I'm a movie guy, I dusted off an old project of mine and wanted to give her an essay about its conception.

That said, here is an ever-so-brief taste of a much longer essay on her blog about my adventures in the screen trade and collaboration with my buddy and writing partner Eddie.

One night around two years ago, my buddy and sometimes guest poet Edoardo Mungiello (pictured, below) and I were sitting in my man cave pondering our creative lives. At the time, I’d say that both of us were pretty creatively unfulfilled and extremely disenchanted with what we were seeing on movie and TV screens. What’s more, we were both about to enter the world of fatherhood so our creative juices were flowing with a bunch of unbridled, kinetic energy.


We had always talked about writing a script. It’s what people say… “Hey, we should write something…” Yeah. Right. Easier said than done. It’s hard writing something by yourself, much less another moody scribe.

Not only does a writing team need similar sensibilities, but they have to be willing to bend with one another. There’s a huge give and take at hand when it comes to what you both like. And then there’s the frame of reference…

Visit At the Bijou for the rest as well as a sample of our script "Dull Hobo."

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BANNISTER BLUES (guest poet)

Although it's been a while, Edoardo Mungiello has popped in before at Bukowski's Basement as a guest poet. While his sensibilities lean wwaaaay towards the classical, he can reign it in enough so that we Chuck Buk-lovin schleps here in Bukowski's Basement can dig his groove.

His jazzified riff last time, 'Us in Twilight," was one not to be be missed.

This is another one of his poems so please enjoy and let him know what you think.

BANNISTER BLUES
I sit before the television more often than I care to,
comparing my life with the imagined ones before me.

And every time I'm intrigued, I realize that I'm unhappy
or I imagine myself to be...

And I imagine I would be happy directing
or acting...
or celebratizing...

And I wish like I’ve never wished for anything...

For their lives...
Their esteem...
Their fame...
Their money and their interest...

All the while knowing, not imagining,
that I'm better than they are and
becoming angry that they aren’t sitting in
a home comfortable in its love with their wives
and hoping someday to be me.

And I shut the television with disgust,
rising on the bannister to my bed with the reminder
that Dante was never in one place
long enough to watch television.

To read Mungiello's other poem on Bukowski's Basement, click HERE.

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Edoardo Mungiello is a graduate of the School of the Visual Arts, New York City and has studied independently at l'Accademia delle Belle Arti, Florence and Oxford University's Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies. In addition, he recently completed his dissertation for a Doctor of Arts and Letters at Drew University. He also is a professor of art history at Brookdale College in New Jersey, where he lives with his wife and daughter. No stranger to words, the modern renaissance man's book "Christ Among Them: Incarnation and Renaissance in Medieval Italian Culture" can be found HERE on Amazon. His gorgeous art work can be found HERE.

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'US IN TWILIGHT' (guest poet)

I have a friend. An elitist, Oxford-educated buddy named Edoardo who constantly scoffs at the very existence of certain pop culture mainstays. We could argue that worth of scribes like Kerouac and Corso for hours. Long heated hours. Still, he's a classic guy. A scholar. Interesting that he would drum up such a dreamy, beatnicky poem. I dug it so much, I had to post it. Enjoy...



"Us In Twilight"
I dig with two hands
but digging is a nod of the head
to a jazz riff
and a smile at the girl
curled up like smoke from dead
cigarettes. She can't dig;
leaving the hands nothing to do
but rest in stiff pockets
in tightening jeans. Dig.
Attitudes don't work
or can't or won't.
Thank God for my hands.
I have my fathers hands.
I can work if I need to. Dig?
Me and my youth-
we once knew wonder
but now we scoff at truth
and jump at thunder.
But always there, like a familiar song
I dig. The jazz, the chick, the me that's gone.

- Edoardo Mungiello, April 18, 2008

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