Well I finally got back to work on the script for Death Ride. I’m definitely going to have to change the title because, c’mon, it’s a story about cars like Death Proof and even I confuse the name sometimes…I sent in a very rough draft to Jesse, head of Viper comics and he said some of the dialogue is a bit stiff, which I wont disagree with. Of course it’s stiff, I’m not a practiced writer! Writing is going to be stiff and uncomfortable if you are stiff and uncomfortable with writing like I am. I’m trying to remedy that. I need to improve my writing skills, so here I am, keeping a journal right here on the internet for my own later embarrassment.
The fleas in this apartment have really dealt a blow to my standard of living. I can stand dirty dishes and laundry on my floor; you can learn to live with that. But to constantly have bugs jump on you and bite you, man it sucks. It tears down your morale. Makes your life worse. I think it’s a big reason Max ran away, he was affected the worst, they actually lived on him…I couldn’t imagine. If he is still out there, I hope he’s ok and got rid of the damn bugs.
Anyway, we set up a bowl filled with soap water on the carpet with a lamp lighting it. The bright light is supposed to attract the fleas into the bowl while the soap water creates a surface tension that fleas can’t escape out of. It is amazingly entertaining.
Mike says it’s satisfying to grab a flea if you find one on you, and drop it into the bowl. I find that I have to agree. I’ve begun the ritual of picking them up and dropping them in, watching them sink. They fall in slow motion, they dance, writhe at the bottom of the bowl and become motionless. They lay together in a mass watery grave fifty strong, converted from their previous evil versions, they have now become the only good kind of flea. A dead one. I wonder if they have a death rattle, and if so, how hard would it be to build a tiny little underwater microphone and listen in? Maybe I should check with Radio Shack…