Get Me Out of Here

I drink my nectarine juice with no BPAs

The plane’s exhaust fumes shit on the EPA

Babies are crying and cracking my skull

Drunken lunatic tries to give the latch a pull

Horny ass couples suck on faces and tits

Flight attendants’ short fuses are blown to bits

The Air Marshal fell asleep on the job

Get me out of here, I’m ready to sob

I’ll swan dive to the streets of London

Or to France for some Paris lovin’

Parachute to the beaches of Mexico

Pancake on the deserts of Texas, NO!

Anywhere is better than the airplane

Even hell starts to sound a little bit tame

The high winds will cut me to shreds

At least I’ll have my own graveyard bed

I’ll take matters into my own hands

If this plane doesn’t want to fucking land

Chuck the dipshits out of the airlock

Drag them by their greasy coach hair locks

One by one the angels fly to heaven

Or they splat at the seven-eleven

Or they’re floating on the whale road

Silence has become their only code

Oh, my word, I’ve become a flight risk

Pain in the neck like a broken cervical disk

TSA might have to pat my ass down

I’ll leave a present, something warm and brown

They say I might cause another nine-eleven

I can’t even fly a seven-forty-seven

But if it helps them sleep at night

Keep my prison cell locked up tight

Jackie Brown

MOVIE TITLE: Jackie Brown

DIRECTOR: Quentin Tarantino

YEAR: 1997

GENRE: Crime Drama

RATING: R for violence, nudity, and language

GRADE: Pass

LAX flight attendant Jackie Brown is busted by the police for smuggling cocaine and money across the Mexican border. Facing up to five years in prison, the only way out of doing hard time is by ratting out the gun dealer whom the money was supposed to go to, Ordell Robbie. As a sting operation is set up to smuggle the rest of the money out of Mexico, it isn’t always clear who’s double-crossing who. Will Jackie take off with the money herself? Will she stay true to the police or to Ordell? She has the know-how and seductive nature to pull off any deal she wants. Can she do it without getting shot or sent to jail permanently?

First and foremost, the show-stealer of this movie was Samuel L. Jackson as he portrayed Ordell Robbie. His dialogue was delivered naturally and believably. His swearing wasn’t forced at all. He carried himself like the crime lord he was supposed to be. The audience will either be intimidated or thoroughly entertained by Mr. Jackson’s antics (why not both?). However, one of the biggest criticisms this movie got was how frequently the N-word was used by him. To those critics, I say chill out. Quentin Tarantino didn’t write it in the script so many times because he wanted to push a racist agenda. In the criminal underworld, it sounds completely natural, especially coming out of Samuel L. Jackson’s mouth at a hundred miles per hour. This is one instance in cinema history where it’s cool to root for the villain.

Speaking of dialogue, that happens to be one of Quentin Tarantino’s strong suits as a filmmaker and it shows in this movie. While Samuel L. Jackson stole the show, every other cast member could be credited with bringing a believable story to life with their dialogue alone. It could be Pam Grier talking about getting old and starting over again. It could be Bridget Fonda having a casual chitchat with Robert De Niro. It could be Robert Forster talking about how much he hates his job (while still delivering his dialogue like a true professional bondsman). Whether it’s mundane conversation or it actually advances the story, you’ll want to keep your ears open the whole way throughout this movie. It certainly makes up for the oftentimes slow action sequences in between.

If I have one criticism for this movie, it’s that the storyline mechanics were hard to piece together at times. I’m not talking about the audience constantly guessing who Jackie Brown is going to double-cross, that part I’m okay with. I’m talking about keeping up with how the final transaction of Mexican money is supposed to go down. I’m talking about all the ways it went wrong. I’m talking about the climax of the movie and why it couldn’t have happened sooner. I understand that Quentin Tarantino loves his complex storylines, but too much complexity can take the audience out of the viewing experience, especially if things don’t click together by the end credits. But this is a minor criticism at best, so don’t let it discourage you from watching this movie.

I’ve always known that Quentin Tarantino was a master storyteller the minute I watched Pulp Fiction. Watching his other movies, this one included, proves his mantle over and over again. Jackie Brown didn’t feel formulaic. It felt fresh and new despite the fact that it was released in 1997. I hope to one day watch Mr. Tarantino’s entire collection of movies and give them all high praise. But for tonight, Jackie Brown gets a solid four out of five stars.

Pedestrian Knowledge

***PEDESTRIAN KNOWLEDGE***

One piece of writing advice you hear all the time is “write what you know”. I’ve heard arguments on both sides when it comes to agreeing with this claim. On one hand, you’re better equipped to write an intelligent sounding story with very few people doubting you. On the other hand, exploring new knowledge is what helps us grow as authors. I’ve said in the past how research is my least favorite part about the writing process. It’s not because I don’t want to learn or grow. It’s because if I get just one minute detail wrong, my critics will feast on the carcass like wild animals. It drives me nuts how picky some people can be. Doesn’t anybody just enjoy what they read anymore?

Well, that attitude towards the research process has changed the minute I received my critiques for Beautiful Monster. The problem with relying on pedestrian knowledge is that the things you think are well-known are actually more complicated than you originally anticipated. To use an R-rated example from that story: cock rings. Conventional wisdom dictates that you just slide the ring down to the base of the dick and that’ll keep a man hard forever. Well, to give you an idea of how complicated it actually is, I had my beta reader Marie Krepps tell me that the government can spy on HER computer instead of mine. Oh dear. Hehe!

You know what else isn’t pedestrian knowledge? Pregnancy. It’s not as simple as growing a big stomach and pumping out a painful baby after nine months. It’s a process. It requires extensive planning. Marie dinged me for this as well when at the end of Beautiful Monster Tarja gave birth to Windham’s daughter. Not only is Marie a loud and proud woman, but she actually gave birth to four lovely daughters, so if anybody can call bullshit on my “pedestrian knowledge”, it’s her.

What other things in life are not as pedestrian as we think they are? Fight scenes, psychology, farming, hunting, fantasy religions, and pretty much everything on planet fucking earth. As much as I don’t want to bend to the will of the nitpicky critics, it’s something I eventually have to do if I want to find success as an author. Think of all the movies out there that get shit on because the details and research are way off the mark. You see these criticisms all the time on places like Amazon and IMDB.

This is especially problematic when it comes to sensitive topics like disabilities, race, politics, cultures, and religion to name a few. It’s much harder to recover from bigotry accusations than it is to miss one crucial part of setting an animal trap, for instance. There were times in my writing career when I almost bawled my eyes out because my writing was seen as unintentionally bigoted, Tainted Love and Class of ’13 being my most infamous examples. I will admit that prejudice is hard to forgive, but if it was completely unintentional and the artist is sincere in his apology, then you can’t compare that to the Milo Yiannopouloses of the world. If you want to depict another culture in your writing, do you research and don’t rely on stereotypes. You’ll save yourself a lot of heartache. It’s not just “SJW” stuff. It’s actually important.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that nothing can be considered “pedestrian knowledge”. The world is a complex place and people do complex things. As a writer, you’re being relied upon as a bringer of change and a representation of everything that’s right. It’s a huge responsibility, so don’t fuck it up. If your readers don’t trust you, they’re not going to read anything of yours ever again. You wouldn’t want to study math from a teacher who doesn’t know the cube root of twenty-seven (spoiler alert, it’s three). You wouldn’t want to go to a rehab facility where the nurses have powder underneath their nostrils all the time. So why would anybody want to read books from an author who doesn’t care about the world around them?

And for god’s sake, please don’t rely solely on television and movies for your “research”. Do you know how many lawyers call BS on shows like Suits and Law & Order? Enough to make you question everything. Hell, there were flight attendants who boycotted the movie Flight Plan because of how their occupation was portrayed in that movie. Another spoiler alert: the flight attendants in that movie were depicted as uncaring jerks. If you legitimately don’t know what you’re talking about, do a Google search. Ask someone from that occupation. Or if you really want to get deep undercover, do what Marcus Sakey did when he was writing The Blade Itself: shadow cops and detectives. Just like in school, research can be a bitch sometimes, but it’s necessary for that all-important A+.

Wish me luck when it comes to fixing Beautiful Monster and getting my facts straight this time! I still haven’t fleshed out my chapter-by-chapter synopsis yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be in a rut forever. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I’m back in my house and you’re still sitting down. The crimson couch never felt so uncomfortable. And the room is so cold. The tape on your mouth is slowing your breath down. The rope is so tight. The tension becomes so tangible, so unbearable. I’m sorry if I crossed the line. I know I’ve lost it, but you are always on my mind. Obsessed with you and me. To love is harder than you think. I’m sorry if I raise my voice. I never meant to hurt you, but I had no choice. Don’t ever lie to me, ‘cause I’m smarter than you think. You love me, ‘cause I hate you. Everything but love. There’s no running away. There’s no guilt and no shame. I’ve crossed the line. Is this the end? There’s no running away even if you’re afraid. I’ll make you mine until the end.”

-Lacuna Coil singing “You Love Me ‘Cause You Hate Me”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

That Lacuna Coil song happens to be about Stockholm Syndrome and that could be an element I could add to Windham’s psyche when I rewrite Beautiful Monster. With Shelly Atwood being as lovey-dovey and tender as she is with Windham, why wouldn’t he have Stockholm Syndrome? But then again, I’d have to compromise that with his desperation to get out of that hellhole of a castle she lives in. Is it possible to work both sides of the argument into one mind? If not, then I’ll ditch the Stockholm Syndrome angle altogether.

Flight Plan

MOVIE TITLE: Flight Plan

DIRECTOR: Robert Schwentke

YEAR: 2005

GENRE: Mystery Thriller

RATING: PG-13 for language and violence

GRADE: Pass

Kyle Pratt and her six-year-old daughter Julia are flying from Berlin to New York City with Kyle’s dead husband stowed away in a coffin underneath the plane. Kyle takes a short nap and awakens to find her daughter missing. She goes around the plane asking everybody where she is and nobody can give her an answer. Upon further inspection, Julia Pratt was never even on the flight manifest. Kyle’s search becomes more frantic and her anger has the other passengers worried about their own safety. Has the grief of her husband made her delusional or is there a bigger conspiracy at work here? Nobody has these answers for Kyle because nobody onboard cares about her.

The mark of any good mystery is being able to keep the audience guessing until the climax. I kept watching because I genuinely wanted to know what on earth happened to Julia. There was even a time when I bought into the theory that Kyle was delusional. This is cinematic gas-lighting at its finest and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. While I won’t reveal Kyle and Julia’s fates, I will say that the movie’s harshest criticisms are misplaced. Some say the plot is over-the-top or confusing, but I don’t agree with that at all. Everything is perfectly clear by the story’s ending. A little cheesy at times, but clear nonetheless. Maybe the critics need to watch it multiple times in order to piece everything together, but the pieces are there and no stone is left unturned.

The one thing I agree with critics on is that the acting is superb no matter which character is being portrayed. Kyle Pratt is a convincing mother who just wants the best for her daughter. Whether it’s the tender moments they have together or the mother’s near psychotic search for Julia, Jodie Foster was perfect for the role and I wouldn’t want anybody else playing Kyle. Even the whiny passengers who kept getting on each other’s nerves had me convinced this was real whether it was kids slapping each other, parents wanting peace and quiet, or xenophobic Americans getting in scuffles with Arab passengers.

The one controversy I need to address as far as acting goes, however, is the portrayal of the flight crew. Apparently, their “rude and uncaring” attitudes painted actual fight attendants in a negative light. I personally don’t see this as a blanket statement. I see it as an intricate part of this well-crafted mystery. Everybody is supposed to be against Kyle Pratt because they think she’s crazy. Why should the flight crew be any different than the passengers who clapped for her getting handcuffed by the air marshal? While Kyle’s anger is well-placed, if taken out of context, it would be annoying to a bunch of passengers who’ve been on the plane for north of six hours. I’ve been on irritating flights before and I was seething deep inside, just like any rational person would be. Don’t look for controversy where there is none. We’re all human and we all get angry.

The movie received mixed reviews from critics, but I happened to find Flight Plan to my liking. I went into the movie expecting to be on the edge of my seat and that’s exactly what happened. Sure, Flight Plan isn’t anything mind-blowing or overly-philosophical, but it doesn’t have to be. Not every cinematic masterpiece has to be deep and profound. Sometimes it’s just meant to be enjoyed. Flight Plan gets a passing grade from little old me.

Air Pain

Six hours of nonstop ass torture was in store for everyone aboard the airline flight to Paulson City. Knees cracked as passengers stood up to use the bathroom. Spinal bones shifted every which way. Neck and hip pain flared out of control. Getting even a few seconds of sleep in the upright position would have been a bigger miracle than turning water into wine. Yet even in shackles and a scratchy orange jumpsuit, Zack Scott managed to drift away with the snoring power of a small kitten. He even had shaggy hair like a small animal, but was nowhere near as cute and cuddly.

For the first time in ten years, Zack could taste the heavenly flavor of chocolate covered waffles covered in maple syrup and mile high whipped cream. A far cry from the worm-infested “meals” at his old prison, Zack mauled that plate of waffles like a grizzly bear and demanded seconds like a king sitting on his throne. And he got his seconds…and thirds…and fourths…and fifths…and…

“I want some fucking beer!” shouted a grating voice that jolted Zack Scott awake. The sudden transition between divine sleep and cold reality caused him to smack his head against his seat cushion. He’d rub his head in agony, but his wrists were chained to the seat, so all he could do to voice his displeasure was let out a minor groan.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gilbertson,” said the blond haired flight attendant. “You’ve had enough alcohol for this trip, so I can’t serve you more.”

“This is bullshit!” blared the suit-and-tie wearing drunk. “I paid good money for this flight and I deserve some fucking booze! I had a bad week of doing something called hard work! Now give me that beer before I rip it out of your fucking hands!”

“Hey, retard!” blasted Zack from the back of the airplane. “Shut your pie hole and let the rest of us get some goddamn sleep!”

“It’s a free country!” yelled Gilbertson. “I worked all week so that welfare kings like you could just sit on your fucking couch watching Netflix! All I want is a goddamn beer! Is that too much to ask or do you want any more of my hard-earned paycheck?!”

“Settle down, Mr. Scott,” said Detective Tony Battles, Zack’s trench coat-wearing handler. “Let the Air Marshal take care of this piece of shit. You just concentrate on getting some shut-eye. We’re not going to be in Paulson City for another five hours.”

Even with the drunken idiot and the flight attendant bantering loudly in the background, Zack and Tony still managed to carry on a hushed conversation between the two of them. Zack said, “How do you expect me to get any sleep around here if this horse’s ass just keeps going on like this? The Air Marshal is fucking worthless!”

“Welcome to the world of air travel, buddy,” said Tony as he patted Zack on the shoulder. “I know you’ve been locked up for a good decade or so, but things have changed around here, in case that security checkpoint bullshit wasn’t enough of an indication.”

“Just let me out of these shackles for five minutes,” begged Zack. “Hell, I could probably bring that loser down in less time than that.”

“I know you can, Zack,” said Tony. “Why do you think you’re in shackles to begin with? You beat the shit out of someone because he cut you off in traffic. His face was pretty much nonexistent at that point. You really think I’m going to just let you out of your shackles like that? Don’t be a dumb ass.”

A hard thwack echoed throughout the airplane and everybody’s wide eyes zeroed in on the downed flight attendant holding her bright pink cheek while the man known as Gilbertson cussed her out in a cacophony of slurred vocabulary.

“You stay put, buddy,” said Tony as he patted Zack on the shoulder and left his seat to confront the drunken passenger.

“Like I have a choice, huh?” smart-mouthed Zack, who struggled in his shackles despite the tightness cutting into his limbs. He was too laser-focused on this task to pay any mind to the struggle going on between Detective Battles and the drunken moron. The strikes, gasps, and wrestling in the background was all just noise to Zack Scott.

Somewhere in his soul, he knew he would screw up his plea deal by breaking free from Tony’s grasp. He knew that the only way he could taste those chocolate waffles again (aside from in his dreams) was to be on his best behavior and let the law take over. His starving taste buds didn’t take nearly as much damage as his pulsating eardrums, however. Every growl and slurred word from the drunken passenger caused Zack’s mind to explode with madness. This was worse than being in solitary confinement. It was worse than getting his ass kicked by the CO’s and prisoners. Freedom was so close, yet so far away, dangling over him like a juicy steak in front of a hungry pit bull.

Gilbertson’s rage fueled Zack’s intense struggle to the point where the prisoner accidentally elbowed Tony’s magazine off of his seat and revealed a shackle key underneath. The convict’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. Now his mind really was fucking with him. Was this a loud and obnoxious airplane ride or a stint in the hole? He reached at the key while the shackles cut into his wrists deeply enough to draw blood. The slick fluid gave Zack a few more inches toward the key. And a few more. And a few more. He got it!

Zack wasted little time in unlocking his shackles. With one hand, he eased the key into the lock and twisted hard enough to draw more blood. One more twist and his left arm was free. The rest was just child’s play at this point. He twisted the key so hard in each lock that he was almost in danger of breaking it off. His final restraint was the one binding his right ankle to the seat. He twisted again and this time the key snapped in two.

“Damn it!” Zack shouted. “God fucking damn it!” His thunderous voice had usurped Gilbertson’s and the fearful passengers as being the loudest. The prisoner kicked and stomped within the confines of his singular shackle until it broke off and he was finally free. He wasn’t thinking about delicious breakfast items this time. He had a mindful of insane voices shouting death threats in his ear. His vision was dark red. The blood on his wrist didn’t distract him in the least. His teeth gritted so tightly that he could have chewed through the shackles if he wanted to. This wasn’t a bloodthirsty felon. This was a starved lion with teeth the size of tusks.

Zack jumped out of his seat and shoved various passengers out of the way on his path of destruction towards Gilbertson, who was shoving away flight attendants and passengers himself while laying a thudding beat down on Tony Battles’ face. Tony could just lay there and die for all Zack cared. Then again, so could Gilbertson. The drunkard turned around long enough to see Zack Scott in his prison suit and Charles Manson mug flying through the air with his elbow raised. Once the prisoner landed, he brought the elbow down across Gilbertson’s terrified face, shattering his nose, breaking off a few teeth, and popping one eyeball out of the socket. Blood and bones spilled all over the airplane floor.

The passengers and flight attendants backed away in horror while Zack Scott stood over Gilbertson’s prone body with bloodlust on his face and a hard-on underneath his suit. Tony wiped the blood out of his own eyes and gazed up at his prisoner in horror. The convict smiled upon his handler and shrugged while saying, “I guess that means the end of my plea deal.”

Tony shook his jowls before nipping up to his feet and grabbing Zack by the jumpsuit. The raging force of the detective was enough to pin the still smiling Zack against the bathroom door. “You’re damn right it’s the end of the plea deal, you sick fuck!” Detective Battles shouted. “I’ve got a new deal for you, pal! You’re going to do the hardest fucking time this planet has to offer! It’ll make Guantanamo Bay look like a massage parlor!”

Zack’s arrogant expression refused to change while the passengers and flight attendants watched the scene unfold with pants-wetting horror. Tony leaned in close to the convict’s ears and whispered as smooth and sensually as a rapist cell mate. “Do me a favor, sweetheart. Don’t tell anybody that I left the key there on purpose. Otherwise, the new plea deal will fall through and you really will do hard time.”

Zack whispered right back at Tony, “Don’t worry, honey-bunny. Your secret’s safe with me. Should I lick the back of your ear to make this even more romantic?”

Tony’s eyes shot up while he surveyed the zombie-like expressions of everyone around him. “What are you all looking at?!” he belted. “Get back to your seats! This is personal business!” Get back to their seats they did, including Zack, sans shackles. He overheard the detective getting statements from several people, including the slapped flight attendant (Susan Martin) and the Mr. Happy Hour himself, Andrew Gilbertson. Those two names would appear in the Sunday morning paper. Tony Battles would be a popular name in that article too. What about Zack Scott, though? Could he in all good conscience put himself in a news story and jeopardize his new plea deal? Eh, fame and fortune were overrated. Chocolate-covered waffles, on the other hand, didn’t get enough credit.