Blank Page..

 ....Cereal bowl empty.  Child in bed.  Dog asleep.  Husband on the road.  Only 9:ish o' clock.  Rainy, chilly night.  Terrible TV.  No wine open..and no, I am not going to open the special occasion wine, although, if I actually post this, I will.  Even if it takes me all night, I am going to write.  Not because it's an assignment and I am way over due..but because I love to write this dang thing.  I just like to sleep..and lately..ok,  the last 3 months, I have been sleeping at night rather than not.  A good thing for my body..but not for my creativity.  I am a night writer.  Not to be confused with the talking car TV show of the 80's.  Although David Hasslehoff is rich material to fuel this conversation, I will not go off on a tangent, when there are much more important things to talk about.  Truth be told, I never watched "Night Rider".  In fact, I had to look it up to see if I was actually getting the name right.   So I did that little minus thing on my screen and googled "Night Rider".  Oh man.  That's some good shit.  I would have loved to see a talking car and David Hasslehoff fight the evil crime of Las Vegas.  Especially in that speedo. 

What I really loved about looking the show up,  was the synopsis.  Perhaps this is what the writers pitched the networks to see if they would take a chance on the pilot.  It is so bad, it's awesome.  I have to steal a paragraph here, so you do not leave my long awaited blog and accidentally close out this page, just to have a Wikipedia peek at "Night Rider".    Here ya go:

"Self made billionaire Wilton Knight rescues police detective Michael Long after a near fatal shot to the face, giving him a new identity (via plastic surgery)(duh) (I put duh in there)  and a new name:  Michael Knight. (how clever)  Wilton selects Michael to be the primary field agent in the pilot program of his Knight industries-funded public justice organization, The Foundation for Law and Government (FLAG). (good thing that Law was in there)  The other half of this pilot program is ....a heavily modified Pontiac Trans Am with numerous features including an extremely durable shell and frame, controlled by a computer and artificial intelligence." 

C'mon.  That is some badassness happening right there.  Dude, plastic surgery, durable shell and frame,  computerized car.   It's like the Housewives of Atlanta, 2012. 

I wonder what our synopsis or "treatment" would look like. 

"A 50 something year old hippee.. 

****time out.  We just had a freak quick lightening storm..and I am not kidding..sparks came out of my computer.   Be back tomorrow..maybe God loves "Night Rider"****



Wed morn: 

OK!  Back!  WOW!  That was totally freaky. Maybe I have some kind of super-powers now..or maybe I should  refrain from "Night Rider" bashing.  But on to our synopsis:  I guess I will do my best to be a day writer for the moment.

"50 something year old sexy, suburban hippee, his much younger and sprite-like wife and his handsome band of misfits come together to make music, poetry and frivolity.  All under the curious yet thought provoking name of "The Mystiqueros".  Fighting crimes of the heart, one gig at a time.   Their motto:   "No one should dance alone...Unless they choose to".      Be with them as they travel to the far ends of Texas,  (therefore, *THE WORLD).. to bring you sweet music and healing.   Healing from the injustices of bad brisket, the word "whiskey" used too many times in new country songs and people who talk loud during ballads.   Fueled by Chimay and jerky, they and their trusted Toyota mini van, "Stealth", promise to only bring you joy.  And maybe some dirty laundry.   Come and join the band!  Literally.  There's like 15 of them, on this artful journey of delayed adolescence."

What do you think?  Think we could get a TV series?  I'd watch it.


Thanks for the love and the gentle jabs to get me back to writing.  I appreciate it more than you know.

Now on to fight injustice of a sink full of dishes!



~Tuesday night 9:30pm, January 8 & Wednesday morning 9:30 am, January 9th, 2013



* Thanks,  WC Jameson