Writer

Lately, I have been embracing the writer in me.

My confidence was given a boost by Facebook friends who have commented positively on my postings. These are mostly "a day in the life"-type essays. I have developed this style of writing by keeping a journal since the age of fourteen; when I quietly decided to document the obscure observations from my world and of the world around me.

In 2011, just for giggles, I felt that enough time had passed where I could read my journals without feeling too emotionally reactive on hearing my Wonder Years of growing pains, recanted by a familiar, yet foreign to me now, teenager. But that was thirty years ago. Now, after reading a particularly vivid entry - and the retro-world described within- I am much more likely to comment: "I couldn't write this shit!"

I started to read "1982".

In one entry I announced: "It is my dream to write movies".

Okay, I have had a life with no regrets and some degree of accomplishment, but I felt a slight twinge of failure as I listened to this kid - sharing with no one in particular - his secret, yet obtainable dream. Writing movies was not the path I ended up taking. Instead I entered the lucrative world of acting for a living. Now, as a grown, somewhat responsible man, I feel I owe it to this kid to see that he achieves his dreams. They were once mine too, after all.

And so I put ideas to notepad, and words to Word, and finished my first screenplay: Vertical Afterimage. A site specific, supernatural thriller - think Trainspotting meets Jacobs Ladder - set in and around my historic New Jersey home. Now I find myself asking: What does a writer do next with his finished script - a sure-fire money maker with a happy Hollywood ending and franchise possibilities?

My Dad always said "You should try to be published."

So for Dad, my next writing project will be a collection of essays, chronicling the days of a young widowed father in Virginia, admittedly at a loss, but dedicated to raising his three vastly different, yet equally bad, sons. No matriarch, just four independent men maneuvering their way through a new suburbia of military bases and video arcades. I look forward to re-visiting that world through these journals, and to creating an entertaining ode to the chutes and ladders of youth.

All this and I'm only on "1982".

Meanwhile, if you are further interested in reading some amusing, current observations, please "friend" me on Facebook. It was on Facebook where I first heard -from a re-acquainted, long lost, high-school mate- "You should really be a writer." .

Verticle Afterimage

Logline: "After the mysterious death of his wife, a haunted young man struggles to re-build his life, but ghostly visitors do their best to destroy his new found sanity."

Please click here to read a sample from "Vertical Afterimage".

If you would like to read more, please contact me at rdl@raouldluna.com.

Dear Licky

Dear Licky,
Recently a co-worker of mine joined Facebook. Help. I don't know how to act!
-In Cubicle Unrest


Dear ICU:
I am so glad your letter found me. Navigating Facebook can be a challenge to the untrained gazelle. I gave up work years ago to spend my days in the top floor of this upper west side townhouse, so I can't really relate to your point of view of the world.

From my p.o.v. it's a snatch to maintain healthy relationships with many different people, both online and on Facebook. First, always keep it real. By this I mean, know when to lie. Of course you are friends with co-workers. You have a huge thing in common in that you both have to show up at the same place to get paid. What's not to talk about? But how will this help you in the gossip department? I think the kids today call this having "friends with benefits". You know, when you get the inside scoop on some really good dirt? To connect, I prefer the simple, old-fashioned "Good morning" to a late-night "Poke"...which is the laziest incarnation of a booty call yet! I get poked all the time now and I never feel it. So get used to that. Personally, I preferred the good old days of knowing when I knew I was getting poked. And feeling it. Immediately. Then having a few days to work things out down in Human Resources. So forget poking people. Greet them in person if possible. Like this morning, I was peddling my bike down 5th Ave when I saw Mrs. VanHipple out in an embarrassing state of dress, wearing hot rollers and tending to her flowerbox, not a euphemism. She turned away from me as I approached, hoping I wouldn't catch her eye but I looked much too good in my cycling kit to zoom by unnoticed so I belted out a hearty "Good Morning!" And did she ignore me like a friend request from a family member? Absolutely not. Her face lit up like a sandblasted lighthouse and we connected. And it was priceless. Now maybe next time she will think twice before stepping outside in her NY Mets Snuggie. I will certainly think twice about leaving the house without my camera/phone/calculator. In short, what's the diff?? Maintain the same relationship you would with this co-worker as you would a Facebook friend. Just don't say or "poke" anything too embarrassing. But if you do, you can always claim it was an alter-ego writing on you "Wall". This seems to work. In regard to the lather half of your quarry...have you tried taking a class??

Tchau, Love!
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Dear Licky,
My husband of 12 years has suddenly turned into a big horn dog and wants sex 24/7. Not only that, but he's suddenly into porn. He watches it all the time and is getting nasty - and not a "good nasty" - in the bedroom. What's going on with him and how do I handle it?
-Sleepless and Sore in Seattle


Dear SleepSore,
I read and re-read your question looking for a problem. As I see it, this is all good news. How do you handle it? With class, panache and a bullwhip if necessary. Sex is- at its simplest- a two-way street. At its most complicated? I've seen it turn into a block party with some disastrous results. But I will try to stay on topic.

So Mr. Man wants to be "bad nasty" rather that "good nasty"? Okay. First off, you should know that I am picturing your husband as Billy Bob Thornton. Who has had some famously nasty sex on film...good and bad. He made Halle Berry "Feel guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuud" giving that girl a load of his monster balls in said film. (FYI- said film is MONSTER'S BALL, which I happened to see by accident, thinking I put a Lady Gaga DVD in the player....the movie was nowhere near as good as a Gaga concert, but Halle was HELL-AH more SCARY!!) And I can no longer enjoy Gilmore Girls as I used to because now I always picture that skinny be-otch Lauren Graham in BAD SANTA straddling Billy Bob's hot bod shrieking "F*** me, Santa! F*** me, Santa!!"

As with any scenario, I size it up and say "Okay, what's in it for me?" and "How am I going to get through this hour and still have a little self respect at the end when I have to ask for a bigger tip?" So the answer SleepSore is to stay in charge. Guys dig that. Don't automatically say "no" when he brings up his interest in doing something "bad nasty". Tell him that you "might" be into that. He will no doubt hear this as "Why yes, let's do that now" and start positioning himself in bed with his tissues, remote and "himself" within reach, but you will give him a stern "I said I MIGHT be into it". Then take a moment to think of what it is that you want. Something immediate. And that he can do now; quickly, quietly and naked (remember, I'm picturing Billy Bob). Say: "We will get to your nasty sex/porn play, but first I want you to.... clean out from under your side of the bed" or "change the washer in the leaky bathroom faucet" or "just go sit in the corner for few minutes and give Mommy some peace!" And after said task at hand is accomplished SleepSore, thank your lucky stars that after twelve years of marriage your hubby still shares things with you in the bedroom. So, what's going on with him? It sounds like he's a maturing horn dog who is just trying to keep your sex life involved. How in the world did you manage that? You are the one who should be giving advice, my dear.

Which reminds me; I am expecting a guest: a dear, dear colleague who likes it best when I am dressed as Peter O'Toole in LAWRENCE OF ARABIA when he arrives. I don't mind the swaddling but it's the blue contacts that drive me crazy. And that sand gets everywhere. But don't cry for me SleepSore...my faucets haven't had a leak in years!


-Licky
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Dear Licky:
I recently received a Christmas Card from a distant cousin, asking that I "repent and accept Jesus Christ as my savior NOW!" No "howdy-do," just a form letter with and an anecdotal tale of how such a scenario would play out in God's courtroom. Should I respond? And if so, how?
-Card Has Induced Laughter & Dismay


Dear CHILD:
Was it THE TRIAL by Author Unknown? Where the reader is on trial and has Jesus Christ as his defense attorney and Satan is the prosecutor and heaven help us, GOD almighty is cast as the Judge? CHILD, I receive this yearly. It's a hoot, and wildly inappropriate for a Christmas card insert, for many reasons; the least of which being that the story depicts God as a mortal, doing humanly things . . . like slamming down a gavel. Tsk, tsk.

The fact that you received this Christmas card intended for "Dearest loved ones" implies that, in the judging eyes of your cousin, you have engaged in some awful, unlawful behavior. Congratulations. I hope you took pictures. But you present a predicament and one that I will ponder while I take a break from dressing for tonight's "Secret Policeman's Other Other Brutha' Ball." CHILD, yours truly is the entertainment, and I have been putting the polishing touches on my rendition of "Have an Egg Roll, Mr. Goldstone" all morning. Coincidentally, I was just yelling "Satan get thee behind me and down there and help me zip up these chaps!" I thought leather wasn't supposed to shrink! And while you're back there, Satan, help me clip on these oversized feathered angel wings too. (I swear this is the last time I let Christian Soriano design my costume, his getup's are tres difficile to wear on the subway.)

But back to your cousin, who is basically using her religion as a "get out of hell free" card. That is her choice to make and that's okay. You can tell her that, as for now, you plan on leading a perfectly sinful yet quite harmless life for as long as you can, and that you will repent on your deathbed like any normal death fearing person. I, Licky, accepted Jesus a long time ago. Jesus and I are cool. CHILD, Licky is not as forgiving as JC. He died for your sins, fine. But what did you do to try and stop his execution? Oh, I'm getting all worked up and the glue holding my pasties in place is starting to melt!

So, if you would like to respond to your cousin please feel free to forward the attached story I wrote. It's a Licky original. Our story takes place in a world . . . where HEAV'N is the hottest night club in New York and the reader is on the lame side of the velvet ropes. God is the man with the list at the door, and Jesus is spinning the hottest tracks from Ibiza, but watch out for Satan!; he's on the dance floor looking to get rid of a bad batch of E. God checks the readers name off the list with a "You exist!" He then parts the velvet ropes and allows the reader into HEAV'N, where a rather fabu and fun time is had by all. DJ/JC spins the latest Gorillaz tracks; Mary Magdalene is at the bar making intro's; God is at the door keeping the Himself fearing riff-raff out in the cold; even Satan is under control, he's zonked out in a corner booth -having eaten all of his E- and is now performing auto-fellatio - rather noisily- on the end of his cloven tail. Once euphoria is found by all, a cab is waiting outside of HEAV'N to drive the reader and new found entourage off into the sunrise. Isn't that nice?

So should you respond? No, you should not. Only as a last resort would I suggest going above the head of someone (e.g.: to shut them up; to get them out of your life; or to score some swank Executive swag). And CHILD, this instance will do. If you insist on responding whether or not you have found Jesus, I suggest you send the card back scrawled with the words "God is my judge - The Book of Daniel", and hopefully you will be done with it.

Meanwhile, Christian is going to be absolutely livid with me. He's sure to climb up on a step stool and jump down my throat: I can't figure out how to wear the tail to this costume!


Have a Licky New Year!!
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