The Word At:
Not much of a laydown today. Screwed from the get-go. Mind racing. Sex was not even an issue . Thoughts went to a grammar phenomenon in our great country. "Where's it at". I not only hear this from the average Joe but TV commentators and educated people throughout this land. Like fingernails on a chalkboard my friend. Where is it, dumb ass. Where's it at is no better than saying, no never. This thing is prevalent in our society, the good old US of A. A bad seed allowed to fester and grow as okay. It's everywhere Jack. Dumbing down of America. In addition, what ever happened to Gloria Vanderbilt? Knife on the right with spoon on the outside, dinner fork on the left with smaller salad fork to the left, bread plate on the left, water glass on the right,salad on the left above bread plate and so on. Next time you go out to dinner or lunch see how many put the bread on the right, the other person's plate. Nobody really cares anymore.
Melonman:
Well, looks like Murphy struck again, just took a laydown and the neighbor's dog started wailing. They put that dog out at 6:30 AM on most mornings and it barks consistently for 30 minutes. Well, I went to sex and that lead me to one of my biggest disappointments- never having put the Melonman sequence on film. I had been in the film biz for years, helping a lot of people develop their careers. Had crew lined up and willing to go, gratis. Getting the equipment comped would not be an issue. There would have been some money involved but at that point, I probably could have pulled it off. Just imagine, an opening shot of the Bickley melon patch at night just after a rain storm, the moonlight revealing the glistering moist melons as they lay in the field. Plump and ready for harvest. Crickets chirping . Off in the distance we see the Bickley melon shed, light streaming out of the shed door. As the camera moves in that direction we start to hear the sounds of young Jake Bickley, the Bickley's eldest, working with the melons. The sweat dripping from Jake's face and large biceps. The glint of his large knife as he rips it from it's sheath. The accelerated breathing of Jake as he sees his new treasure. His heart going thump, thump increasing it's pace. The skill of him cutting the finger holes, bowling ball style. The slicing of the melon tip and the reveal of it's juicy, scarlet red oozing seedless flesh. The quick unbuckling of Jake's belt, his worn jeans dropping down around his mud-caked boots. The barn light swinging with the wind, revealing Jake's large and imposing shadow on the barn wall, penetrating the melon's sweet interior, going into ecstasy and the final moment of complete orgasm. His totally spent figure slumped, his breathing still hard with his prize laying at his feet, in pieces. Could have been good.
