Damn romantics

It was too much. Terror and exhiliration surged through Mamet as he sat looking at the woman from the garden, seated in front of him. He decided he had to say something to her. Slowly he stood and walked down the aisle toward her row. He saw her watching him out of the corner of her eye. He reached the row where she sat and, turning sideways, began moving toward her. Sitting in the seat right next to hers, Mamet felt like a fool. Who introduced themselves during a show? "To hell with it", he thought. "Hi, Im Mamet", he said and extended his hand toward her. She turned her head to look at him and he thought he saw a sort of twinkle in her eyes. She smiled and said, "My name is Mirela, nice to meet you". Mamet's mind was reeling as he tried to think of something suave or clever to say next. Instead, all that came out was, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight"? Stupid, Mamet thought. I'm absolutely stupid. What the hell kind of a thing is that to say to someone you just barely met. "I'd love too", said Mirela. Mamet stared blankly at her for a few seconds, trying to contemplate what she had just said. Then, like a light bulb turning on, his face lit up and a huge grin appreared. He turned around and walked back up the aisle and out of the theater. It had been years since he had felt this happy. As he walked back toward Thallow Flats, he played the last four minutes over and over in his head. He couldnt believe it. For the first time in a long time, Mamet was excited. He was allowing these feelings of hope and posotivity to course through him and it was ok. He reached his apartment building. Looking to its left, he saw his lightpost. It was strange how different he felt about that light post from just a short time ago. Now it felt like a victorious figure, not only surviving the years but coming out on top. He walked over to the post and gave it a wack with his hand, very much like an athlete slapping his teammates ass after a good play. He leaned back against the pole and continued to think about Mirela. He felt himself falling for her right then and there. Feelings that were stronger than he had felt in years were swallowing his logical mind and he was succumbing to the romantically infatuous thoughts that wracked his brain. In sharp contrast to these thoughts were the events that transpired next. The earth beneath him seemed to sink down for a split second and then rocket back up again, spewing pieces of rock and dirt in all directions. The light post fell and pinned Mamet down as huge chunks of rock came raining down from the sky. As Mamets world went dark he looked up towards the sky. All he saw was a twinkle.

Movies

Mamet squinted as he stepped out of the dim, smokey establishment that was the local tavern. Feeling slightly light headed from the wiskey he had consumed moments before, Mamet stumbled down the sidewalk, circumspising his surroundings. He tilted his face skyward and allowed the sunlight to play across his features. As his gaze lifted, he saw the derelict marquie of the run down theater reaching its rusted, rotted form into the air. "The Dumb Waiter" was the show playing currently. Mamet has always enjoyed this play. He had always held a sort of absurdist view on humanity, and this show was a shining example of the sort of ironic absurdity that he felt ruled the universe. He purchased a ticket and walked into the shadows of the theater. The play had already started and the audience was shrouded in a murky soft glow from the stage lights. Sitting in the back row, Mamet had a view of the entire theater. The audience consisted of about four people including himself. There was a couple seated in the second row. The man had his arm around the woman and she was leaning her head on his shoulder. Mamet smirked at this spectacle, waiting for his usual feelings of disdain to develop. Young couples with idealized versions of romance, going to the theater because it deludes them into thinking that they are cultered and refined. Unfortunatly, these feelings never matured in his expectant brain. Instead, and to his disbelief, he felt jealous of the two of them. They were young, carefree, and obviously in love. Mamet wanted so badly to feel apathy, and yet what he really wanted, was to have what they had. He wanted that with the woman from the garden. For so long, he had suppressed any romantic feelings, swearing that he wouldnt allow himself to be hurt by another woman. Over time he had stopped feeling those urges and had settled comfortably into his life of peaceful indifference. What in the hell was going on? Had all of those years been erased by the site of this one woman? Nothing made sense and Mamet hated that. He could always justify his feelings logically and this random outpouring of feeling completely unnerved him. He looked at the other individual seated in the audience. She was seated closer toward the back and almost directly in front of him. She was sitting alone. He liked that. She looked peaceful and yet seemed to give off some sort of restless energy. Mamet thought that she looked like a visual representation of what he was feeling at that moment. As he stared at the back of her head, covered in beautiful brown locks, she turned and looked back at him. "Youve got to be shitting me", Mamet said under his breath.

Elevator Dreamin'

She was standing at the back of the elevator, leaning gracefully against the wall. Mamet stared in wonder at this beautiful creature. To him she looked like one of the elegant statues that was carved into the front of old ships, with proud eyes that radiated warmth, intelligence, and sadness. Mamet could tell that she was upset. Normally this wouldnt have phased him, however, her sadness radiated from deep inside those gorgous eyes and seemed to call out for his care. He wanted to make her happy again. It was a completely infantile thought and Mamet knew it. But it didnt change the fact that as he stared at the women from his dream, looking back at him with those eyes that held so much pride and pain, Mamet felt himself allowing his heart to feel for her. His eyes must have given him away because as he stared into hers, he registered some sort of recognition in them. This snapped him back into reality and he realized that he must have been stupidly staring at her for quite some time. Inwardly cursing himself, he stepped onto the elevator. As he turned toward the door, he caught another glimpse of her standing there. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have possibly imagined. From far away she looked perfect, unblemished as though she had just floated down from the clouds. Up close he could see some minute, almost invisible imperfections that showed the life that she had lived. The layer of reality that these earthly imperfections added to her person, heightened his attraction toward her. As he reached for the button, she did the same and their hands brushed together. Instantly, Mamet felt as though electricity was surging up his arm and into his brain. It was as though his subconscious and his waking life had crashed together as he made contact with what had been, up unti now, only fantasy. It was the most sensual feeling Mamet had felt in a long time. But with this woman, the attraction wasnt simply sexual. This part still puzzled him, and yet the lightness in his stomach and his brain kept him from pondering over it too much. He wanted to speak to her, tell her that what ever was wrong, he could fix. Wanted to tell her that the forlorn look in her eyes was curable. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, but years of suppressed feelings, and walls around his emotions are not easily overcome, and the words wouldnt form. As he struggled, the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Mamet exited the elevator, completely in shock by what he had just experienced. He was so dumbfounded that he didnt even look up to see Earl walking towards him across the lobby. The two collided and Mamet fell to one side. Murmering apologies, he walked out of the revolving doors, out onto the sidewalk, and toward the pub. He needed a drink.

Loud Clouds

The woman turned, a coy expression on her face, and began walking toward Mamet. Her hair glistened in the light and cascaded down over her olive shoulders. Mamet was mesmerized. Her movements were so fluid as she glided toward him. The light, flowing fabric of her dress floated around her perfect legs. Mamet thought she looked as though she was drifting on a cloud. She raised a delicate hand and gestured for him to come nearer. Her fingers were slender and graceful and they seemed to pull Mamet towards her like a puppeteer. His feet felt like lead as he began moving in her direction. As they came closer together, the straps of her dress began to slide off of their perches on her shoulders. Mamet's heart quickened with anticipation.
VROOM VROOM VROOM! The sound of the Yamaha motorcycle's engine woke Mamet with a start. His eyes shot open and he jumped out of bed, and ran to the open window. Looking down, he saw Jason turning of his bike and removing his helmet. "Dammit Jason", Mamet shouted. "What the hell are you doing with that piece of junk this early in the morning"? "Just trying to clear my head", Jason yelled back. "How the hell is the racket supposed to clear your head", Mamets retorted. The man thought for a second. "Well, somethin about the adrenaline rush that I get, sorta helps calm my nerves", he said. Mamet couldnt understand some people. "Well th e next time you come through here this early in the morning, Im going to fill your head with something that adrenaline sure as hell wont cure"! Mamet slammed the window and sat down on his bed. A few seconds later, he dashed back to the window, opened and shouted down at Jason, "You should try shrink. Or maybe a woman. That bike isnt gonna work for you. Believe me, I know." He closed the window and went to take a shower. Damn motorcycles.
Mamet sat at his table, eating cereal, and thinking about the dream. Dreams normally didnt affect him. Dreams were just the subconscience dumping out the extra garbage from the day. However, something about the girl got to him somehow. It was as though she reminded him of a person that he had known, not in physical apprearance, but more in idea form. This made no sense, and Mamet hated pondering over things that he couldnt understand. Grunting, he threw the rest of the cereal down the garbage disposal, grabbed his hat, and headed out the door. Electing to take the elevator, Mamet pressed the button and waited. The bell dinged, and the door opened. Mamet begab walking through the door with his eyes angled down. As he stepped across the small gap, into the elevator car, he looked up at the person standing in the elevator. It was her.

Complaining: Furniture, Cell Phones, Everett, and Her

Damn movers! Mamet navigated around the maze of overweight men lugging gaudy old furniture through the lobby. Mamet couldnt understand what people saw in ornate, expensive, completely functionless furniture like the stuff being manhandled across the atrium in front of him. He liked things simple, including the furnshings that he chose to surround himself with. Simple but useful, and in the case of furniture, comfortable. Mamet's bedroom held a plain brass bed, a lamp for reading, and an old radio. Television annoyed him. The one thing that showed some signs of excessive pampering was his terrace garden. Mamet had never been much of a people person and there was something about being alone in nature that put him at peace. He was an avid gardener who enjoyed watching things grow as he nurtured and cared for them. His plants were like children, just without all the diapers and whining, he told himself. This attraction for agriculture was why, at the moment, Mamet was ducking past the last leathered obstacle in the lobby and out the revolving doors into the sunshine. He headed to the garage to pick up his car. He would have rather walked, however, he was planning on buying something rather large for his garden and needed the transportation that a car provided. The valet Pokey wasnt at his stand and Mamet decided to wait. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of the root shop on the other side of town. Next to television, cell phones got under Mamet's skin more than anything. What bothered him most of all is that society delegated that he must own one. He had resisted as long as possible but eventually was forced to purchase one of the infernal gadgets. He kept it turned off as much as possible and "forgot" it at home whenver he could. The woman at the root shop answered and told him that she did, in fact, carry the item that he wished to purchase. He thanked her and hung up. Pokey arrived with the car, Mamet handed him a few dollars tip, and drove off in the direction of the root shop. As he pulled up next to the store, his gaze fell on the book shop located next door. Thinking that it might be good to brush up on some seasonal gardening techniques, Mamet parked the car and walked into the store. A little bell on the door jingled as he pushed it open. The woman at the desk looked up and smiled. He nodded back and turned down one of the aisles that lay between the varnished oak shelves overflowing with colorful volumes. He passed the romance section, glancing over to see the numerous half naked women that were plastered on nearly every book cover in the section. He moved on toward the back of the store, the musty smell of less read books getting stronger. As he past the crime novel section he saw a guy looking at some of the court room dramas. The man was staring intently at the covers as though trying to absorb the content by osmosis. Mamet decided to do him a favor. "Don't read those court room stories. They are a complete waste of time and never even come close to painting even the slightest picture of reality. Thats the reason that young lawyers are always disappointed when they finally become litigators. Its cause they read those pieces of crap." The other man turned and grinned at Mamet. "Hi, Im Everett Carson. You sound like a funny guy. A couple of us have a poker game one night a week, you should stop by." Mamet was a little suprised at this amicable response but replied that he would think about it. The man gave him a telephone number and went on his way. Mamet continued on to the agriculture section, purchased his book, and headed next door to the root shop. He opened the door and was accosted by a strong earthy scent. As he stepped across the threshhold, he glanced to his right and the community garden. Thats when he saw her.

Mamet's Intro

Mamet stared blankly through the glass front window of the tattoo parlor. He watched as a young kid hopped up into the chair and proceeded to have his upper arm sanitized in preparation for his tattoo. Mamet had never understood the attraction to this odd "art form". It wasnt that he was afraid of pain, he had dealt with worse than a few needle pricks in his lifetime. He had simply never felt strongly enough about something to have it permenantly stained into his skin. Still, watching this slightly sadistic ritual through the window of All American Tattoo gave him a small, not-so-guilty tingle of pleasure. After a few winces and failed attempts to appear macho on the part of the skin-head receiving his arm full of ink, Mamet became bored. Placing his hands in the pockets of his pleated slacks, he turned and began walking down Barnaby Street toward the corner and the entrance to his apartment building. He paused a moment in front of the dilapidated lot that sat next to where he lived. Mamet could not remember a time when this spit of ground had carried any redeeming qualities, by normal society standards at least. Like many of his views, Mamet's opinion on this lot was counter-culture. In his mind, this lot represented the last remnant of a town that had been lost in a world of the materialistically minded, appreance obsessed culture of the current day. Nothing about this lot was excessive, except perhaps the weeds that threatened to swallow the rotting light post that stood alone surrounded by gravel and decay. Mamet liked this light post. It had survived generations of abuse from activist's staple guns, the local gang's pastime of climbing it's trunk, and of course the elements. In the past years it had slowly begun to decay along with the rest of the lot. Mamet saw a great deal of himself in this light post. Perhaps that is why, two years ago, he had chosen to purchase the post, along with the surrounding lot when the city council had announced that it was going to be leveled and used for condominiums. Thanks to Mamet, the lot was being allowed to live out it's last years with pride. Despite all of his musings, Mamet was not sentimentaly inclined in the slightest. In fact, showing too much enthusiasm for something was a waste of time in his opinion. Everything was temporary and when it came down to it, incredibly inconsequential. He liked what the lot represented but as long as it was allowed to run its course and decay with dignity, Mamet would be happy. When the time came and and light post was gone, he would not lose sleep or shed tears. Things come and go and all one can do is glean whatever enjoyment possible and move on. Thats how Mamet approched pretty much every aspect of his life. But for now, he liked that light post. Bored with this line of thinking, Mamet picked up a rock, took aim, and sent a bullet at the center of the post. Getting old was making him soft. He gave a kick at the gravel that had crept out onto the sidewalk and headed into his apartment building.

1st Entry

ahh whats going on????