Plastic Badges

Hey everyone! I'm aware of how late this post is but there's a few reasons for this. Unlike other projects I've done before, I've had the most trouble trying to recall everything that went into the making of this short. I also believe that I might misrepresent everyone who worked really hard on this short so I think it would be premature to type anything elaborate about it. Despite this, I've talked about this short twice before:

[Commentary with Gary Rodriguez and I]

[Random Chatterings-Episode 9] (1:53-6:30)

If anyone has any other questions about it that the previous 2 links don't answer, please feel free to leave a comment down below.

Awkward Arley [Ep. 2] - "Pandora's Prada Bag"

This episode has a bit of a long and storied history but I'll try to cut it short. Here I go...

During the editing of the pilot, we started brainstorming ideas for episodes that might be longer than 5 minutes and came up with an absurd plot of Arley saving a gangster's life but getting shot in the process. Many rewrites of the plot tried to keep the gangster plot intact but then we came up with Arley becoming a unexpected drug mule who carries a box filled with drugs around campus. Eventually, we got rid of the gangster sub-plot completely and focused solely on the box. After that, we had a lot of trouble trying to figure out how Arley would come across the box and eventually settled on what happens in the episode, simply for the comedic value. As always, I'm very surprised at the ability the cast contained and couldn't be more grateful for their input and contribution. Incidentally, we started filming two weeks after finishing the pilot but focused our efforts on the next episode until delays lead to this one getting top priority again. 

With all of that being said, I did promise you guys both episodes 2 and 3 much sooner and failed. For that, I'm sorry. 

Here is the final draft of the outline, along with a few tentative titles. The final episode is much different from the outline. Again, NSFW. This one's particularly awkward.

Episode 3: Not Another Godfather Parody!; Twisted Ties; Black Suited G-men (Tentative Titles)

Unrelated opening scene:
Arley holds a cue card with the title of the show on it and is squished between two tough looking guys in suits. Dudley Dickface floats by and slaps the card off Arley’s hands. He holds “Episode 3’s title” in front of the camera. Fade out.

Scene 1: While waiting at a greeny stop, Arley witnesses a guy being beaten by a mob (armed guys with butter knives). Arley intervenes and the mob scatters. grateful for having been saved, the guy entrusts Arley with a mysterious cardboard box, telling arley that he is the only one he can trust to protect the box until he returns. The guy then runs off, leaving arley alone at the greeny stop.

Scene 2- Back at Arley’s room, he opens the box and finds a hastily written note which describes the contents of the box, and what will happen if it is not returned to it is owner (or something). Arley contemplates calling the police but is afraid that if he does, he will be accused of being a drug dealer. Dudley busts in to room talking about national drug screening day tomorrow, and how many balls it sucks (or something). Arley panics.

Scene 3 (COMPLETE)- That night arley has a crazy/trippy nightmare:
→ Arley in room filled with boxes that contain random/terrifying objects
→ BW camera; arley shuffling down eerie hallway with cardboard box at the end
→ In dream, arley wakes up to go to the bathroom, voodo/gimp mask guy standing there and gives him another box

Scene 3: Montage of arley going through school day with box

Scene 4- At end of day, arley is so emotionally / mentally drained that he finally returns to the greenie stop and does a whole ‘why hath thou forsaken me’ bit. The the guy returns for the box and after thanking arley he opens up the box and HUFFS DAT SHIT then walks away without saying thanks.

-episode ends with arley watching, stunned
 
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Awkward Arley [Ep. 1] - "The 100th Episode Spectacular!!!"

Oh, god. What is this?

Why, thank you for wondering, fellow blog reader. Remember this blog post? Unfortunately, this project is going through many, many changes and until I have a clearer idea of what I'd like to do, I'll be postponing this particular short film until later. What "this" is supposed to be is a "brand"-new web series called Awkward Arley. Produced by Case Western Reserve University's Ignite Television and co-directed by Nabeel Malick and I, this is our first official project and technically my very first short film. Being a comedy, it was much more easier to write about than my other more abstract project and even though it took a while to complete (about 5 weeks), we're already diving in headfirst into the next episode which we'll try our best to improve on the quality from the first. What I can promise is that it will be 5 minutes longer than the pilot. Below this block of words is the original outline we used when we were filming the episode. We made several changes when we started to film only for the sake of coherence. Awkward Arley is an improvised program, very much like Curb Your Enthusiasm. With future episodes, we'll try to distance ourselves from the Curb foundation although with a show called "Awkward Arley", it'll become our own challenge. One warning: this is an awkward program, designed by our disturbing minds to make you squirm in your seats so...NSFW. Watch at your own discretion. Also, we apologize for the ending.
Why?
You'll know it when you see it.

Arley holds a cue card with the title of the show on it. Dudley Dickface floats by and slaps the card off Arley’s hands. He holds “100th episode Spectacular” in front of the camera. Fade out.
Fade in. “Previously on Awkward Arley” appears on the screen, followed by the Ignite logo and annoying beeps. “Now back to our show…”

First scene: bedroom (find location, afternoon, sun’s still out) Arley has just finished a paragraph for his article for the Daily. Dudley Dickface comes in, pushes the door open, soda in his hand, “Arley!!”
“Oh, hey dude.” says Arley, with some hesitation.
“ How’s your writing for the Daily Show?” says Dudley. Camera goes to Arley, looking at the screen that says “The Daily”, whose expression changes from pride to discontent in a millisecond.
Dudley mentions he’s been at the Susan B. Anthony Clinic, looking for dates. Arley opposes the idea immediately. Dudley mentions how some of them have “blue waffles”, to which Arley makes his first mistake: “what’s a blue waffle?”
Dudley charges to the labtop, getting in front of Arley  and looks it up. Arley immediately close his labtop. Dudley makes a snarky remark which Arley can’t respond to.

Second scene: Black “Later that night…”, fades into Arley asleep in bed, Arley mutters blue waffle as (obviously-photoshopped) images of blue Crayola and waffles. “bru waffle, blue waffle, THE HEADCRABS ARE GONNA GET ME!!”

Third scene: Flora Mather Center (filmed in Ignite Office) Arley interviews a Flora Stone Mather Center representative. Representative remarks on Arley’s fantastic work on the article about the “Susan B. Anthony Center”. The interview goes well except for Arley writing down “blue waffle” every so often and scribbling it out. After she answers the first question, Arley blurts out, “Okay. Second question Blue waffle. Um…”
“What did you say?” says the representative.
“Nothing. Nothing. So, how’s things?” says Arley in a moment.
“What’s a blue waffle?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“What is it?”
“Fine, I’ll tell you.”
Arley explains what it is without being explicit. The representative doesn’t understand the vague explanation so she looks it up. Arley demands that she doesn’t. She does anyway and is disgusted, as Arley expected. They get into an argument. Camera slowly pans to the tape recorder.
Fourth scene: We’re in a dark room. Only the desk lamp illuminates Awkward Asian’s face. We notice that he’s wearing headphones and can hear the conversation. He is doing something that everyone does but no one talks about. He says, “Louder. Louder.”
Black out. “Awkward Arley Theme” plays in the background with the credits.

And while you are at it, join the "official" RS(TBTT...e) group at facebook.com/groups/randomscribblings/  for images, videos, and more. Message me directly if you have any pressing questions.

Semaphore (First Draft)

Shortly in the beginning of the first semester, I told my friends/co-workers at IgniteTV about an idea I came up with years before about two people waiting for their job interview. The idea has since grown into a verbal battle between an arrogant artist and a neurotic artist who only draws traffic lights. I plan to finish the screenplay this summer. What's below is the first draft of Semaphore, a flawed yet ambitious draft that I wanted to be as abstract as possible, although that became its weakness when it became too abstract for even myself to comprehend. I originally wanted to piss off the audience for watching my film although that's something I'll wait to do for my following short films. This will be the first of many drafts I'll post until I finally post the completed screenplay sometime this fall. Constructive comments/questions will be greatly appreciated. 
Thank you.

Character descriptions:
Dan: A tall guy, probably 6 feet or so(Clarence doesn't have to be really short, he has to be at least 4 inches smaller but specific measurements don’t matter). Dan has lived his entire life getting what he wants, but only through optimism and continuous effort. Dan is the typical American ideal of the good-hearted worker. He is a brilliant artist(idea for his clothing: a shirt with an obscure yet comical reference to Magritte’s This is Not a (Blank). A Dan brimming with confidence. he has been very successful in most, if not all of his endeavors. His ambition is hidden well in his calm expression. While Dan is the typical ideal, he isn’t a bland, boring version of the archetype. Due to his success and background, he is unaware of what failure is supposed to be and is perplexed when he sees failure firsthand embodied by Clarence.

Clarence: A short guy(specifics about size aforementioned in Dan description) who’s glad to be in a room instead of his dank apartment. He is very passionate about his beliefs and not much else. Similar to Dan in terms of brilliance as an artist, his failures stem from his outright refusal to draw anything else other than traffic lights. Clarence is a very awkward and neurotic person, who speaks unlike anyone else, and has trouble communicating his ideas or thoughts if they have nothing to do with traffic lights. Clarence communicates his thoughts clearly with his body language. Clarence, embittered by people’s expectations of him, swears instinctively, and has a habit of “drawing” traffic lights in the air with his finger. Clarence makes more of an effort to talk with Dan when Dan expresses his interest in learning more about Clarence.  

Unnamed Female Receptionist: rude, but sweet, very impatient, but understanding, depending on the person.

ESTABLISHING SHOT OF ROOM: A black screen. The room is a bleak area devoid of any kind of creativity. The waiting room, despite being a public area and showing some activity outside, has only one light source, a rotating fan, and a small table placed next to several rusted chairs. The fan above the room rotates slowly and deliberately. The table has a few magazines on top of it. In the background, we can hear the typing from a laptop, and the voice of a woman. She has a soft, yet stern voice, probably from sitting in her chair for hours without seeing anybody else.

We hear the door opening and closing. A woman flicks on the light switch.

The door opens. A tall man named Dan, walks in, recently shaved, who sees his favorite actor on the magazine. He plops down on the chair.

Dan:
I’m here for the job.

Unnamed Female Receptionist:
10 minutes, sir.

Dan:
Thanks.

He begins flipping through the magazine, looking for the actor’s picture. A few seconds later, another man, short and with a bad haircut, comes in and nervously snaps his fingers at Dan.

Dan looks up at Clarence.

Dan:
Oh, sorry. Did you want the seat?

Clarence:
Um, yes, thank you.

Clarence sits down and scoffs at the selection of magazines. He sits impatiently and tries detecting everything around the room.

Clarence:
I’m also here-

Unnamed Female Receptionist:
(quipping off-screen quickly and with little consideration) Got it, sir. 10 minutes.

Clarence:
Uh, o...kay.

Clarence recedes into his uncomfortable seat. He moves his bottom around, trying to get some kind of comfort.

Dan:
Hi. What're you here for?

Clarence:
Nothing. I heard there was a job opening and I jumped at the chance, you know?

Dan:
Yeah. Me, too.

After smiling, they remain in their seats and say nothing else for 30 seconds. The seconds practically impair the two guys as both of them begin shaking hastily and a mental battle begins as to who is going to speak next. As always, it’s the tall guy.

Dan:
(looking straight ahead at the camera, face shows some discomfort) So, whereya from?
 
Clarence:
(Also looking straight, although could be more transfixed at looking straight into the camera, almost like being hypnotized) Around here. ‘Bout, 20 or so minutes. (Looks at Dan) You?

Dan:
I’m from LA. Don’t really know why the hell I’m here, of all places, (chuckles nervously) going out for the lNew Yorker. You have to be a fucking genius to be here.

Clarence:
 I guess I’m out of the running.

Dan:
(Laughs quietly until noticing the Clarence’s grimacing face) I was just kidding.

Clarence:
(deadpan delivery) I know. It was funny.

Dan:
But you’re not laughing.

Clarence:
Well, this is how I react to a funny joke. I don’t say anything.

Dan:
Not even a chuckle?

Clarence:
No. I think it’s rude to laugh at a joke. Then you stop thinking about it and screw up the rest of the joke. No one ever considers the beauty of an uninterrupted joke.

Dan:
Hmm. I don’t think anyone else is as considerate as you are. (Tricky delivery of being earnest and sarcastic)

Clarence:
(unassuming of the sarcasm, only assuming the earnest) Nope.

They sit back and try to get comfortable on the chairs. Clarence grabs a magazine and rolls it up, drawing two circles in the air, then a rectangle that surrounds the circles, a moment that shows how impulsive his traffic light drawing habit has become. Dan takes off his jacket, folds it, and sits on top of it.


Dan:
I’m Dan.

Clarence:
Clarence. Nice to meet you.

Dan:
Nice to meet you, too.

Dan reaches out for Clarence’s hand. The attempted handshake becomes an identity crisis with a fist bump.

Clarence:
Wait, what do you prefer, a handshake or a fist bump?

Dan:
A handshake. It’s more professional.

Clarence:
Oh, okay.

Clarence shakes Dan’s hand.

Dan:
So, how’d you find out about this job?

Clarence:
Nothing but luck, Dan. Luck and many job listing opportunities.

Dan:
Hmm. They actually contacted me and said I would be perfect for the job. I just have to go through this mandatory interview, but it should be a sweep.

Clarence:
I see. Have magazines always contacted you for a position?

Dan:
No, not always. More often, it’s newspapers and free publications, but they’re a dying industry anyway, so magazines were a natural move.

Clarence:
Yeah, they are. Undead corpses. Or is that living corpses?

Dan:
I wouldn’t know, Clarence.

Clarence:
Oh. (2-3 second pause) So where’d you graduate from?

Dan:
Rhode Island School of Design. Practically everyone told me I would drop out in a week but I showed them. I think anybody can succeed if they apply themselves well. So where’d you graduate from?”

Clarence:
I didn’t. I dropped out in a week.

Dan:
 ...oh.

Clarence:
It was a disaster, but luckily, I was able to survive from selling all of my art. You could not believe how highly priced a person would buy a goddamn Kindergarten journal for. It wasn’t even on the market, it was just a journal I hung on to for personal reasons, but the guy offered 10,000 dollars for it. Fuck if I wasn’t an idiot for not selling it.-Depicts the character as a resentful bastard instead of a misunderstood genius, depends on the actor’s delivery

Dan:
What’s your favorite medium?

Clarence:
Well, I’ve worked in many, many different ones but a regular number two pencil and sketchbook paper is good enough for me.

Dan:
Interesting. Well, I love to paint oil, but occasionally, I use mixed medium, such as collage, acrylic, and sharpie to create some marvelous works. I remember in high school that everyone was impressed with my art. Especially the teacher. (make less conceited) I don’t think a moment ever passed that she wouldn’t look admirably at one of my works. What about you?

Clarence:
Ah, everybody’s a critic, ‘specially in high school. Everyone gave me shit for only drawing traffic lights. Oh, but highly sexualized images are a-okay! Morons.

Dan:
You’ve (clears his throat) only drawn traffic lights?

Clarence:
Yes. They are my bread and butter except that they would be a very inconvenient choice for dinner, ‘specially when you’d use a screwdriver rather than a knife and a fork to cut off a piece and pass it to everybody.

Dan smiles awkwardly.

Clarence:
That was a joke.

Dan:
A very good one.

Clarence:
Thanks. What do you like to draw?

Dan:
Um, actually if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more about your obsession (another word less subjective than “obsession”) with traffic lights.

Clarence:
Ugh, it’s not an obsession! I don’t understand why everybody-ok, that’s what you think, but once you hear my testimony, then you’ll understand.

Dan:
I’m sorry, I only assumed-

Clarence:
Never assume anything, Dan. Assumptions will get you selling prized Kindergarten journals in the street.

Dan reluctantly nods his head. Clarence clasps his hands together and begins pontificating his tale of singular obsession.

Clarence:
I was a little kid. Nothing at that age impressed me. Not the beautiful mobile my parents bought for me. Not even my parents. Living in “the city that never sleeps” never impressed me, either. I thought the slogan was an insult that other cities had come up with. A city that never sleeps is one with bloodshot eyes.”

Dan:
(Laughs heartily then stops, again, at Clarence’s impatient expression) Sorry.

Clarence
I walked with my mom down the street one day, heading to my preschool, and suddenly, she stopped at the sight of the red light. I never imagined that there could exist an object with such power to suddenly stop a human being at its will. I looked around and saw the cars on our side of the street, which also stopped. Impossible, I thought, but there it was, powerful machines and my creator, frozen by the glowing red light that decided your fate. The light turned green, and my mother was told by the powerful machine to move. I was fascinated. I looked again at the traffic light, seeing how much personality it had in its many curves, its beams, and in its configuration. Why draw a naked woman when I can draw a traffic light? From that moment on, I drew many traffic lights from every conceivable angle, color, and configuration. The journal I sold to that rich bastard had the best drawings of traffic lights I ever did. At that age, there was no desire for precision or perfection, just for drawing. When I found out there was more than one way to depict a traffic light, I jumped at the chance and made many more traffic lights, from every medium I could think of.

Dan:
Wow.

Clarence:
Yeah.

Dan:
Traffic lights...

Clarence:
Now do you understand?

Dan:
I don’t, but I do.

Clarence:
Don’t bullshit, man. I know it’s a weird thing but it’s a weird thing I’d prefer to accept than explain. Why this is the only pivotal thing that everybody rejects me for makes no fucking sense.

Dan:
...no, it doesn’t.

Dan begins considering why he came for the job, then looks again at Clarence who somehow got this opportunity after possibly years of failure, for a moment, forgets about the rehearsed interview he had, and wishes his new friend gets the job.

Clarence:
What are you thinking?

Dan:
…(looking at Clarence, smiling) My plane ticket was fucking expensive.

Clarence:
(laughs annoyingly loud) They usually are.


Unnamed Female Receptionist:
Okay, uh...Clarence, it’s your turn. Just walk down the hallway, to the open door.

The two previously unknown gentleman rise up from the uncomfortable rusty chairs.

Clarence:
Well, I guess I’m up.

Dan:
Yep. Good luck to you, man.

Clarence:
Thanks. You, too.

Clarence shakes Dan’s hand and steps towards the door. He opens it widely and steps inside. Dan smiles as he sees Clarence entering the room. The door begins to close. Dan sits back on his chair and begins thinking about Clarence’s unusual, yet fascinating subject matter. The door closes.

A cut to a black screen. The credits roll.

Now What? - The Phonograph-I mean, Record Player

September 20, 2011...
Another week, another couple of pounds of brain fat at lost to thought. Whatever…that could mean. Things have gone well, but not swimmingly well yet. I have been working on my art history paper, due next Wednesday, my Spanish paper, due the following Wednesday, my Philosophy realization (which I’ll explain soon-Ed. note, I forgot to do that), and my presentation for SAGES, as well as my normal rations of homework. And that’s only till the end of the month! I knew the work was going to pile up, but I didn’t expect it this soon. If I just take it slow and steady, I might just be able to survive September with enough ligaments in my fingers for typing a seven-page paper. It has been an unexpectedly defining week, however. I’ve become closer with my roommate, my friend who lives across the hall, and with my own family. Something I’m especially beginning to miss is the appetizer sandwiches my mom occasionally made right before dinner. Standard ingredients: white (or wheat) bread slathered with mayo and mustard, ham, lettuce, tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, and slightly toasted for a satisfying crunching sound. Simple, yet perfect. I am reminded of how often my family embarrassed me, and how I’d wish their personalities were tweaked a little bit, but I’m realizing that their personalities define them for they are and I’ll won't dare to change that. I had dinner with my roommate’s family on Saturday, that was lovely(aside from the fact that I hadn’t left my dorm all day) since I had a delicious dinner, a very invigorating conversation, and got to see the most astounding record collection. I also saw my first record player, and got to listen to my first record: Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. The first chords silently slipped through the speakers, a warm orange glow surrounded the walls, and my roommate’s father’s tales of musical ecstasy enchanted me. It was the perfect evening until my roommate took me to the Ingeniutyfest. It wasn’t a terrible event, but it was terribly overwhelming, with the numerous colorful works that attacked your senses, the amount of people who were there, the amount of people as high as paint chipping, and the amount of products being sold. I did like a huge wall that you could draw on, a dazzling performance by a woman with flexibility and large amounts of drapery, and an artist’s photoshops of numerous landmarks. It’s a night I won’t soon forget (for the wrong reasons). This weekend also featured my first chance to work directly with one of the guys of IgniteTV. We talked about his career and how it boils down to many avant-garde projects made only for his amusement, and our first conversation about potentially working on one of my projects. He told me that I’d have to wait till Wednesday to pitch my idea and see if it gets approved, which is discouraging, encouraging, and nerve wrecking. If all goes well, I’ll be able to direct my first short film which is a lifelong dream of mine. As always, we’ll just have to see what happens.

NW? - Progress                                                NW?- I Shouldnt've...

Now What? - Progress...10%

September 13, 2011...
Raindrops may be falling on my head, but they haven’t slowed me down yet. This week was unexpectedly a really productive and enjoyable one. With no scheduling complaints to fix, I went to all of my classes without trouble and have begun to appreciate the diversity and unimaginable brilliance that most of my professors contain and if that’s supposed to be a brown-nosed statement, well, let’s just say I’m knee-deep in mud right now. Philosophy is still a problematic course but I imagine that it has been for all of the class so far as we’ve been introduced to a new way of thinking about life, and suddenly been dropped into the most challenging class so far(despite it being only an introduction). This week was the first time I realized how someone’s statement about each major having its own difficulty being true. Sure, I may not be a biomedical engineer but I’m pretty certain that I will be writing many more essays than them. I’m becoming more familiar with my colleagues (remembering most of their names and faces), with my study habits(although I still need to experiment with location), and with my limitations(it’s decided: On Friday’s, I will do absolutely nothing except go to class and take a nap. It might be a high school habit that I’ll grow out of, but right now, I welcome any chance of sleeping on a surface that isn’t a desk). I’m beginning to accept the idea of not finding love so suddenly, and taking it slow like I did in high school. Occasionally, I wonder if I would be as impatient about being in a relationship if I was a woman. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has. On Friday, I was given my first assignment as the newest member of IgniteTV, to film the 911 presentation at the oval, the circular walkway near the library. Due to some technical difficulties, I couldn’t film the police officers walking around the oval, and yet, once those difficulties were taken care of, I went back and filmed as much as I could before they started cleaning up the tables and booths. Has it really been 10 years since that horrible disaster happened? I had an interview with someone, a woman who works at the Cleveland clinic, and told her about my encounter during 911, describing it as Christmas morning with a surprise waiting behind the tree. I’m not looking forward to seeing the footage, one because it’s technically an evaluation albeit a constructive one, and two because I don’t and didn’t think I would have the emotional strength to callously point a camera at somebody’s face, waiting for some kind of money-shot that would dignify my reputation as an amateur filmmaker. Although I write about emotional situations all the time and even try to find the humor in it (believe me, I’ve tried to tell one holocaust joke too many), it’s an entirely different thing when it is your own emotions you’re trying to control and when the situation is deeply tied to reality. I’m supposed to film the candlelight vigil on Sunday, but I don’t know if I can do it. I guess we’ll see.

NW? - Registering...                                            NW? - Phonograph