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Bay Area Journalers Christine's WebRing AARisings: Cybergyyz Diarist.net |
Highway 101
Dirty Hippies 'Burb 
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Tuesday, January 22, 2002
Friday, January 18, 2002
Tired of popup ads or things like Comet Cursor? Get rid of some of most annoying ones with this set of "opt out links." Awww...Mag just sent me this poem she wrote her husband for Christmas. She writes, plays, and sings songs too. I quote a section: I am blessed…You all will agree that we who know and care about this girl are the ones who are truly blessed. Yes Min Jung, you look great as usual! I like the reddish-brown very much. Wednesday night I came home late and tired. Parked my car near the mailbox and was slumped in my seat, exhausted. S
uddenly I heard this THUMP and saw this cat purring on the hood of my car. She was plump and looked very smug. While I gaped, she climbed up my windshield and stared at me with what looked like a grin. Then she leaned its head against the glass and starte
d caressing it with her fur. I was enchanted, beaming in silence. I waved at her, then I started to take the keys out of the ignition. The cat tensed up and jumped off, thinking I was gonna start the engine. Of course I had no such idea! I got out a
nd just crouched there, with beckoning fingers. She pattered over and started sniffing my hands. Such a beautiful kitty! She had thick fur that was clean and as full of body as a woman's hair. Her front was white but back and head were coffee colored. She
didn't look at me directly but coyly, playfully eluding my grasp. The cat would pace in a small circle and let her full body brush past my hand, ending at the tip of her tail. She'd circle again and weave her head around my arm. Slightly elusive, e
ver playful, and a confident tease---this well-groomed kitty was better at flirting than a lot of girls I know! Talked to my dear friend Magdalene again this week. She's one of the few girls I know who always makes me laugh, and for an hour and a half this time! She tells me dramatic stories about her childhood, when she used to
play practical jokes on her little brother. Back home in Malaysia, her brother and little cousin had once unraveled a large spool of thread and stuck the needle at the end of it into a banana tree nearby the house. When Mag heard this, she told the two b
oys this Malaysian legend about a ghost that hides in the banana tree. "Whomever sticks in a needle, the ghost will come after him when the clock strikes midnight!!!" she warned. The two boys freaked out and pleaded with her to tell them how to escape the
ir doom. Mag hid her grin and started inventing hoops for them to jump through. Whenver they finished one deed she said was their "only hope," she'd make up another. Finally it was midnight, and the boys were heaving a sigh after following all of h
er instructions. They were walking back home from the tree when a mysterious figure appeared in their doorway. It was white and faceless and wore an eerie veil. On seeing the figure reach out to them, the boys screamed "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...."
and shot off down the road. The figure turned back indoors and took off the translucent cloth. She was Mag, of course. She gasped so much with laughter her stomach hurt. Even now, Mag says, she will hide in the closet when her husband Meng Yee come
s home. He'll be calling out for her and hear just silence. As soon as he comes into the bedroom she's jump out with a "RAAAAAAAHHHH!" Mag is a professional "RAAAHer," having shocked her brother enough times that he's scared of her. She giggles in telling
me how, when she acts normally with him now, he'll say "Heyyy....do you have something up your sleeve? You are being too nice." Once she thought her brother was in the shower and, tiptoeing up, she slammed the bathroom door with a BRUUUUUUMM! and went "R
AAAAAAAAHHHH!" She heard someone hit the wall but didn't hear any screaming. "I was disappointed," she admits. "He was being boring. No fun!" Mag walked away, looking for someone else to tease, and found her brother in the living room! It turned out she h
ad chosen the wrong vicitim----her dad! "After I left Malaysia to come here," she says, "my mom called me. She said 'I miss so much hearing your brother screaming, and home is so ordinary without you!' So my mother took over my job and started tryin
g to scare my brother! HAHAhahahahahaha......" Talk about evil. I'll see her next week. ****************************** "Basil Fawlty is the harried husband and irascible innkeeper who would un
doubtedly be running a first-class hotel if he didn't have to deal with guests. His other obstacle to happiness and contentment is his wife and worthy opponent, Sybil, who can hold her own against his rages and fits. Polly, their maid, is the quiet voice
of reason in the eye of the storm, yet she manages to be drawn into Basil's schemes more often than she would like. Their Spanish bellboy/waiter, Manuel, is still the most consistent, constant irritant to Basil, however; his slavish devotion to his employ
er and his less-than-perfect English combined with a sub-standard intelligence are guaranteed to incur Basil's wrath. The cast is rounded out with several resident guests, including the scatter-brained major, and Miss Tibbs and Miss Gatsby, with an assort
ment of guests coming and going each show." A Touch of Class [The Fawlty Towers reception lobby. The main e
ntrance is at the back, with the stairs to the right. The entrance to the dining room is in the right wall; on the left, the reception desk running along the left wall, with the entrance to the office behind it. The entrance to the bar is beyond the desk.
] Thursday, January 17, 2002
Well everyone decided not to see Vienna Teng after all! Last night at taekwondo we saw our instructor (a 5th degree black belt guy) hand out new belts and give commendations to everyone from last quarter who had tested well and moved up one belt.
It was very formal, and people would scurry up to the front of the gym in hasty steps, bowing at all the appropriate points. This guy Ed who was in one of my New Year's Eve party pix (look back in the journal) was one of three to get his black belt (1st d
egree). He works for the Xerox Palo Alto Research Center. He ended up being my small group teacher. Today was a pretty blah day. I'm too tired to write. Give me a chance to have a life first! Welcome back, Jody! Is that really "you" talking or it is "Jody-you"? By the way, look at this weird message I got in my guestbook, from a U.S. Marine. I don't understand why he first attacks me then gives me his address and
number. How about signing my guestbook with something more fun, guys?
Ha, Aaron replied to what I said. I tell ya, this personal journal is the weirdest way to meet people. I feel like I've just made some wisecrack about someone on TV and the actor has stuck his tongue ba ck at me. Maybe in the future, entertainment WILL be that interactive and we will be able to just yell at our TVs and make the characters do something else. A late HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Ben! He doesn't live far from m
e, and every time I invite him to something, he has other plans. Hmmmph! But Ben did penance for his sins by writing me: "hello raymond, Well said, man. Sometimes
the loser himself is the most eloquent. :-p Party last weekend at Thalia's place. It was kind of a Berkeley and Applied Materials reunion. I met this guy Julian who heard Vienna Teng do her piano concert with
a group in SF. Tomorrow night Vienna plays at the Canvas in SF, and Julian, Linda, and I may go! Vienna says in her Evite: "This is it, folks. The full band show. Come hear what Vie
nna's been sacrificing her social life for during the past couple of months, and meet her new partners in crime..." What serendipity, huh? I see that Eric, Adam, Amabelle and Rae may be there. I have taekwondo again tonight, maybe two parties Saturday, and am going I don't know where Sunday. Whirr
rrr.... Feeling giddyyyyyy. Serves me right.
Sunday, January 13, 2002
All Rights are Reserved for all of the script authors. I got all of this freely off of the Internet and don't mean to infringe copyrights or otherwise take advantage of the authors: ******************************** Dark Angel pilot episode, TV script: ============================ (We see a young girl running through some snowy woods, hiding from soldiers riding on snow mobiles
) MAX (voiceover): The escape was not my idea. I mean....escape to what? We didn't know anything else. It was Zack who said we had to leave. So, I guess he saved my life. I didn't think we should separate. But he wouldn't listen. And I never even g
ot a chance to thank him. SOLDIER: I've ordered a full review...top to bottom. And heads will roll. LYDECKER: Find them...all of them. SOLDIER: What if they make it outside the wire? LYDECKER: This is Lydecker. I want you to ca
pture if you can, but if any of them make it to the perimeter you are to terminate. Is that understood? VOICE ON WALKIE: Confirming, sir. You are giving an order ten-zero-six? LYDECKER: It's my responsibility. Shoot them. (Max steps o
n thin ice and falls through) MAX'S FRIEND: Max! SOLDIER: Sir, we've got seven so far--three wounded, two killed. LYDECKER: You've got a big problem if just one makes it to the outside. SOLDIER: Well, realistically, sir, it's t
en degrees out here. How far can these kids get? LYDECKER: Just find them. (We see young Max hiding under the ice...she survived the chase) (Switch to a dark city. Max is sitting on the Space Needle overlooking Seattle) MAX (vo
iceover): Sometimes it seems like it happened to someone else. Like maybe it was a story I heard. The hardest part is not knowing if any of them made it. But if I knew for sure I was the only one left it would be worse. At least now I can make up lives fo
r them-- like maybe Jondy's a fashion photographer or an architect. The truth is, they'd just be like me, living on the run always looking over my shoulder. Hope is for losers. It's a con job people trip behind till they finally get a grip on the cold, ha
rd truth. Still, I hope that they're out there somewhere and that they're okay. (We see images of the children being trained) KENDRA: It sucks. MAX: What sucks? KENDRA: I come home, it's 3:00 a.m. You're still out. I feel like
I got hit by a cement truck and you've been up for an hour bouncig around. That, by definition, sucks. MAX: I made you coffee. That ought to help cope with the injustice of the world a little. KENDRA: Thanks. It's starting to kick in. I feel
almost human. MAX: Yeah. Me, too. (Max stops by Theo's place on her way to work) MAX: Knock, knock! Hey, guys. THEO'S WIFE: Hey! MAX: Let's roll, hotshot. THEO: Thanks, babe. THEO: I'm going to have to tak
e a personal day. I'm biting it bad. MAX: It's payday. Need me to pick up your check? THEO: You're the best, Maxie. THEO'S WIFE: Come on, Little Bit. You going to be late for school. Three more bites. LITTLE BIT: Two more. THEO'S WIFE: But big ones. (Max rides through the city streets) MAX (voiceover): They used to say one nuclear bomb can ruin your whole day. It was sort of a joke, until the June morning those terrorist bozos whacked us with an electromagn
etic pulse from 80 miles up. You always hear people yapping on how it was all different before the pulse. Land of milk and honey blah, blah, blah, blah with plenty of food and jobs and things actually worked. I was too young to remember, so, whatever... T
he thing I don't get is why they call it a depression. I mean, everybody's broke...but they aren't really all that depressed. Life goes on. (Max is stopped at a checkpoint by a security guard) MAX: Jam Pony messenger. GUARD: Have a go
od one. (At Jam Pony headquarters, Normal is arguing with Herbal Thought) NORMAL: So you just left it? HERBAL: Nobody there to sign for it, mon. Now, what's a brother supposed to do? Ride around all day with the damn package? N
ORMAL: So, you just decided to return it to the sender or in this case, the sender's wife? HERBAL: Like the prophets say...only the unrighteous husband send expensive gift-wrapped underpanties to another woman. NORMAL: Yes, it's none of your
business. None of your business, or mine. HERBAL: It concerns only jah. But, in this case, I was the instrument of the most high. NORMAL: Yes, well, around here I am the most high, all right? Before you do anything, you call for instruction
s. Here, it's a hot run - beat it. (Max comes in for work a little late) NORMAL: Ah, ah, ah...little late. MAX: I was on call. NORMAL: Yes, well, I want you on call here. MAX: What's the difference if I'm on call here or
deployed in the field? NORMAL: Or deployed in bed asleep. (Normal hands Max her paycheck) MAX: I don't sleep. Theo asked me to pick his up, too. NORMAL: Oh, and Theo can't pick up his own check because... MAX: He's sick
. NORMAL: Ah, for a change. You tell Theo if he's not in tomorrow, he can start looking for another job. MAX: I don't know how to break this to you, Normal. We're all looking for another job. (Max greets Original Cindy at the lockers)
MAX: Morning, sunshine. CINDY: Caught some son-of-a-bitch stealing my bike. Used a car jack to break my u-lock and bent a bunch of spokes. Now, I got to get my wheel laced. MAX: At least he didn't swing with your ride. CINDY:
True that, but I broke a nail giving him a cranium crack. And that just wrecks your day you know what I'm saying? (Cindy glances around and sees Sketch and his girlfriend, Natalie) CINDY: Now, why can't I find a girlfriend like that? Brings
him lunch everyday...thoughtful, sweet...legs from here to there. MAX: Straight. CINDY: Shame wasting a girl like that on a male. MAX: Hey, Sketch. SKETCH: Homemade - Natalie baked them for our anniversary. The big one-oh. MAX: The big one-oh? NATALIE: We went on our first date ten months ago tonight. CINDY: Congratulations. (A hacked TV broadcast goes on the air) EYES ONLY: Do not attempt to adjust your set. JAM PONY GUY: Hey, man, che
ck it out - Eyes Only. EYES ONLY: This is a streaming freedom video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly 60 seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped and it is the only free voice left in the city. There are certain men who move thro
ugh the world with impunity. Their actions,no matter how vile are immune from consequence. Edgar Sonrisa is such a man. You've seen him, smiling at political fund-raisers... NORMAL: On your own time, people! Place of business. Bip, bip, bip! EYES ONLY: He owns shopping centers, a trucking company and the largest medical supply company in the northwest. He also runs drugs and guns up and down the west coast... SKETCH: The man is deep. EYES ONLY: He's very obviously dirty. MAX: No, you're easy. SKETCH: He ever been wrong about anything? MAX: He's on the hustle, same as everyone else. JAM PONY GUY: Shh! That doesn't mean he's not telling the truth. EYES ONLY: Journalists who have attempted to exp
ose him have been gunned down in the street. Their blood is the ink of our modern news. Those who've opposed him have vanished. All of that is about to change. (Max and Sketch ride off together. Max notices a hover drone floating nearby and takes o
ff down a side street) MAX: Later. SKETCH: It's your turn to buy lunch! MAX (voiceover): This was supposed to be the financial district back in the day. America really thought they had it dialed in money hanging out the butt. But it w
as all just a bunch of ones and zeroes in a computer someplace. So, when that bomb went ka-blooey and the electromagnetic pulse turned all the ones and zeroes into plain old zeroes, everyone's like, "no way." Now, America's just another broke ex-super pow
er looking for a handout and wondering why. (Max arrives at a high-rise building with a delivery) MAX: I need a signature. SECRETARY: Hold on a moment. (While the secretary is signing the delivery receipt, Max eyes a shiny stat
ue in the building across the street) SKETCH: You're not going to believe this, Natalie. Got a late run so I'm not going to be able to make dinner. I know it's the big one-oh. Hon, I begged, I pleaded, I pissed, I moaned. I got to do what I got to
do. We'll do something special. I promise. I love you, too, mousetrap. Kisses. (Sketch goes up to a house, and we realize he's been cheating on Natalie) SKETCHY: Sorry I'm late. (At a bar, Original Cindy is collecting money for people
betting on whether Max can identify a 14-digit number by listening to tones on speed dial) CINDY:: You want to be rich? Listen to the bitch. Give mommy the cheddar. I'll make your life better. Touch the boot, get dropped wet. Original Cindy don't
feature that. Know what I'm saying? You in? Who else? BARTENDER: What's the action? CINDY: Homegirl can repeat a 14-digit phone number by listening to the beep tones. BARTENDER: So? CINDY: On speed dial. Buy-in's ten. Last chan
ce. Okay, let's do this. (The Bartender uses speed dial to dial a number) MAX: 2-0-6-5-5-5-0-1-3-5-7-6-3-3. BARTENDER: That's it. SPECTATOR: How did you do that? DARREN: I'll have a beer, since you're buying. MAX:
I wasn't. DARREN: How you doing, Max? CINDY: You mean until you showed up? DARREN: You're not still pissed off? CINDY: 'Cause you went out the back door and nailed her girlfriend? Who would be pissed off about that? DAR
REN: You know why I went after Justine? CINDY:: She was there? DARREN: Trying to have a relationship with you, Max, is like standing in a fog bank. You know, you're right in the middle of something except you have absolutely no idea where yo
u are. CINDY: And when the fog lifted, there was Darren with his head under Justine's skirt. DARREN (to Cindy): Could we have a moment? DARREN (to Max): I was crazy about you but you keep everyone at arm's length like you got some, gr
eat, big, dark something going on. It's just the more I tried to get close to you the more you pulled away. MAX: I'm really glad we're having this conversation. You're right, I was angry at you but talking about it...the scales have fallen from my
eyes and I realize now that...it was all my fault. Could you ever forgive me? DARREN: I see the perimeter defense system is still fully intact. At least I tried. CINDY: Craps all over everything and everyone. Then, wants mommy to forgive him
. MAX: Tell me the truth. Am I a female fog bank? CINDY: He's just trying to blame you because he's a slut. MAX: Yeah. CINDY: Hell, yeah. There is not the slightest grain of truth in anything that that idiot was saying. You are
a totally down-ass female and a straight-up friend. Just 'cause you're a little... MAX: Foggy... CINDY: More like a mystery...which isn't bad. (Max's beeper goes off) CINDY: Mysterious. MAX: Gotta go. CINDY: Wher
e? MAX: It's a secret. (Max rides over to a laundromat) VOGELSANG: How many times I tell you? You drive away business, roaring in here like that. MAX: Does kind of break the elegant atmosphere. VOGELSANG: You got a punk-
ass mouth on you, kid. MAX: My name's not "kid." It's "client," as in the person who pays for your opulent lifestyle. Now, you got something for me or not? VOGELSANG: Yeah. Right here someplace. Oh, let's see. Oh... I got a hit on that car.
Uh, I got an '03 tahoe, blue...Wyoming tags A-G-T-3-4-9. It wasn't easy. You were off on one of the numbers. MAX: Sorry, I was nine at the time. Who's this guy? This isn't who we're looking for. Her name was Hannah. VOGELSANG: He got the car
in trade for an old pickup and some food. Got no bill of sale or nothing. It was right after the pulse. The DMV records were wiped out. Got nothing on the seller but managed to find the guy...six hours on the phone. Say thank you. MAX: Thank you.
VOGELSANG: He didn't remember the woman's name but she fits the description that you gave, like a glove. (Flashback of Max being rescued by Hannah) HANNAH: Get in. Hurry. Come on. VOGELSANG: Guy says he made the trade in Gillet
te, Wyoming, in the fall of '09. MAX: But nothing on Hannah? VOGELSANG: A nuclear airburst wipes out every record of every kind of computer east of the rockies and you want me to find a woman that you met when you were nine whose last name y
ou don't even know. Maybe you could give me something more on her...some detail...anything. MAX: She was nice. VOGELSANG: Okay, that's big. MAX: I think she was a nurse. There must be some kind of registry of nurses or medical technic
ians or whatever for Wyoming. VOGELSANG: A last name would help. MAX: What about the other kids? Anything on them? VOGELSANG: They don't exactly have a search engine for kids with bar codes on their necks...something I'm not even goin
g to ask about. MAX: You were going to run through the law-enforcement databases for a match on identifying marks. VOGELSANG: Nothing so far from arrests, hospital admissions, coroners... This kind of search...is heavy spadework. I'm going t
o need, uh... MAX: More money? Like I'm shocked to hear you say that. (Max breaks into the building with the shiny statue from earlier in the day. She hears a familiar voice and realizes it is the person who broadcasts the "Eyes Only" messag
es) EYES ONLY: Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a streaming freedom video. Eyes Only cannot be bought or threatened and through the eyes only informant net a truth-speaker has come forward. The testimony of one fearless witness will soon
lead to the indictment of Edgar Sonrisa for multiple counts of murder. The drug cortodiazapine is expensive, in short supply and much sought after as a cancer treatment. It is also the only effective treatment for the Balkan War Syndrome, an otherwise fat
al disease...but that doesn't stop Edgar Sonrisa from growing richer, peddling the drug to the few who can afford to pay any price for vanity's sake. Sonrisa has been replacing shipments with sugar pills, selling the real cortodiazapine on the Canadian bl
ack market for $2,000 a bottle while combat vets exposed to bio-war agents go untreated. All over this city they are repaid for defending this country by being allowed to waste away and die a slow, agonizing death. (Logan's personal bodyguard notic
es someone is in the apartment. He contacts building security and looks around for the intruder. Max hurries into a room to avoid him. The room is inhabited by a woman and her daughter, who instantly cry for help) MAX: I won't hurt you. (The
bodyguard goes after Max and gets soundly beat up) MAX: Sorry. (Logan Cale, also known as Eyes Only, appears with a shotgun in hand) LOGAN: Put it down! Now! (Max slowly drops the loot she swiped) LOGAN: Lauren...you an
d Sophy okay? LAUREN: Yeah...we're okay. LOGAN: Peter! MAX: If he's the side of beef, he's fine, but give him a minute. LOGAN: You're a thief? MAX: Girl's got to make a living. LOGAN: Thank God. MAX: First
time I ever heard that one. LOGAN: I was expecting someone else. MAX: Guess it wasn't the pizza delivery guy. LOGAN: We're just a little tense right now. (Logan notices the item Max was stealing) LOGAN: You have good tas
te. French, 1920s, a tribute to Chitarus. MAX: Whoever that is. LOGAN: Oh. So... What, you liked it 'cause it was shiny? MAX: No, because it's the Egyptian goddess Bast, the goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector,
avenger, destroyer...giver of life who lives forever. LOGAN: Stay back, Peter. Security's on the way. MAX: I'd love to hang and discuss art, but I got to jet. By the way, I love your show. SECURITY GUARD: Building security! LO
GAN: Hold your fire! (Max dives out the window and successfully escapes as Logan watches, stunned with the ease with which Max escapes) (We see Max shaking uncontrollably. She takes some pills. There are flashbacks from her training)
MAX: Kendra, this is a motorcycle. Its sole reason for being is to go fast, very fast. Not for you to use as a clothesline. Now, make no mistake. I love you as a friend and a roommate, but I love my motorcycle more. Stay away from the bike, okay? (
A policeman bursts through the front door) WALTER: Ladies. MAX: Morning, Walter. What's the good word? WALTER: Oh, just doing my part to keep the squatter situation from getting out of hand. MAX: Mm. Coffee? WALTER: Read
my mind. You notice any trespassers around here? MAX: Gosh...no. (Kendra hands Walter an envelope full of money) WALTER: Seventh floor vacant and secure. OFFICER ON WALKIE: Roger that. WALTER: Enjoy your day. KEN
DRA: What's with you? Every week this scumbag puts the squeeze on us and every week you roll out the welcome wagon like he's family. MAX: Just thought maybe he'd like some coffee with his saliva. (Max acts like she's spitting into an imagina
ry cup) KENDRA: You didn't? MAX: Every week. (Theo's wife is waiting for Max to show up) MAX: It's cool. Before I forget, Theo's pay. Came in real late last night. Didn't want to bother you guys. THEO'S WIFE: Thanks. MAX: How's he feeling? THEO'S WIFE: I took him to the hospital again. They gave him some more medicine. He says it's not helping. MAX: You know how it is. You or me gets sick...life goes on. A guy gets the sniffles...the world's coming t
o an end. THEO: That you, Max? MAX: Playing hooky again. THEO: Hey, Omar, go see your mom. LITTLE BIT: Hi. MAX: Hey. THEO'S WIFE: Come on, Little Bit. THEO: I know what I got, Max. They put me back on that
drug they're giving the other vets. Only the guy that does those cable hacks says this stuff's no good. MAX: Don't believe everything you hear on TV. THEO: What if he's on the level? MAX: The dealio on Eyes Only - he's probably some w
ack rich dude sitting in a trick apartment bored stupid. So he gets off scaring the crap out of folks like you and me. I got to go. THEO: Tell everybody hey. MAX: You tell them yourself tomorrow when you're back at work. (Max meets Th
eo's wife on the way out) MAX: Like I said, guys are the weaker sex. (Logan successfully figures out who broke into his apartment) LOGAN: Bingo. PETER: What do you got? LOGAN: Surveillance video from the building next do
or. I figure this is how our visitor last night got in. PETER: We trying to ID the perp or your new girlfriend? LOGAN: If I just got my ass handed to me by a size three I might be inclined to mind my own business. (At the Jam Pony hea
dquarters) MAX: Hey, Sketch. SKETCH: We got to talk. MAX: About? SKETCH: Nothing. (Max is organizing her locker and notices Sketch waiting on her again) MAX: What? SKETCH: I need your help, Max. See, I've m
ore or less been seeing this other person. MAX: I don't see how you cheating on Natalie involves me. SKETCH: I know what you're thinking, but the truth is this other person is not somebody I'm in love with. As a matter of fact, after what sh
e just did she's not even somebody I like much. So, in a technical sense I'm not sure you could call really me and this other person cheating. MAX: Do guys actually believe these lame, self-serving excuses? SKETCH: Max! MAX: Or do the
y think we're just so grateful to have one of you idiots we'll look the other way? Which is condescending and arrogant. SKETCH: Lame, self-serving, condescending...guilty as charged. MAX: You left out arrogant. SKETCH: But...but there
's another side. MAX: Oh, here it comes the part where the guy turns everything around, right? SKETCH: I am a victim here. MAX: Really? SKETCH: Hear me out. This other person is a Jam Pony client who happens to be trapped in a
loveless marriage. MAX: And you are a sympathetic ear. SKETCH: Exactly. MAX: And then a sympathetic mouth and then a sympathetic... SKETCH: She's demanding that I blow off Nat or she's going to do it for me by telling her about
us. MAX: Does this other person have a name? SKETCH: Lydia. MAX: And Lydia telling Natalie the truth makes you a victim in what way? SKETCH: I'm a toy to her. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the kind of guy who gets to be
a toy very often. How about never? I guess it kind of went to my head. MAX: Has it occurred to you to tell Natalie the truth? SKETCH: Are you kidding? Even if she doesn't dump me she'd never be able to trust me again. MAX: And why sh
ould she? SKETCH: Look, Max...I made a terrible mistake...one that I will never, ever make again. Natalie and I are soulmates. I guess it took the thought of losing her for me to understand that. MAX: What is it you want me to do? (At
the Jam Pony headquarters, Logan is looking for Max) NORMAL: Pick up...411 Montgomery going to 85 Mather. JAM PONY GUY: All right, I'm on it. LOGAN: I'm looking for a young lady who works here. NORMAL: Ladies would be elsewher
e. (Logan shows Normal a pic of Max) NORMAL: Look, pal, she may be easy on the eyes but she's trouble...trust me. JAM PONY GUY: Yo, Normal. NORMAL: Hot run...1298 Chapel. LOGAN: I need to talk to her. NORMAL: I ca
n't help you, man. (Logan offers him some money) LOGAN: How about her name and address? (At a bar, Cindy and Max are playing foosball) CINDY: Friends don't help other friends cheat. MAX: I actually kind of feel sorry for
guys sometimes. CINDY: Please. MAX: They're prisoners of their genes. CINDY: So are dogs. I say hang Sketch out to dry. Let Natalie see him for the heel he is. Then, maybe she'll step to the all-girl team. MAX: Of course, ther
e's nothing self-serving in that scenario. (Max notices Logan is in the bar looking for her) MAX: So, this guy walks into the bar and says... LOGAN: We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation the other night. MAX: Origin
al Cindy, say hi to my good friend... LOGAN: Logan Cale. CINDY: Hey. MAX: Sorry about your window. LOGAN: Can we go somewhere and talk? CINDY: Well, Xena's on. MAX: Let me get my coat. LOGAN: The one you're
wearing? MAX: Right. (Max and Logan are walking along a street outside the bar) MAX: How did you find me? LOGAN: Wasn't hard. MAX: Question is why? LOGAN: You know who I am, where I live. I figured I'd better fin
d out who I'm dealing with in case you were looking to hurt me. MAX: So, you tracked me down. What do you think? LOGAN: Too early to tell. MAX: How does Mrs. Eyes Only like being married to a guy on everybody's hit list? LOGAN:
Lauren's not my wife. MAX: Girlfriend? LOGAN: One of my sources. Her husband was murdered by a man named Edgar Sonrisa. MAX: I caught your hack. He's Satan's lapdog or something. But what's your shot in all this? I mean being a famou
s, underground, pirate cyber-journalist can't be much of a payday. LOGAN: My folks were loaded. MAX: So, what, you like the sound of your own voice? LOGAN: Look around at all this. Built by people who got up every morning worked hard
trying to make a better life. Then the pulse happened and everyone got scared. They blinked and before they knew it they turned over the store to a bunch of thugs who were happy to take it off their hands. Overnight, the government, the police everything
intended to protect the people had been turned against them. MAX: So you miss the good old days. Even though there were still poor people who died from diseases when they didn't need to and rich people who still spent obscene amounts of money redec
orating the house to match the cat. Those good old days? LOGAN: Even if they took it for granted, they still had a choice. Now they don't. MAX: So what are you going to do about it? LOGAN: Something. MAX: Personally, I'm more i
nterested in going fast on my motorcycle than giving myself a headache over stuff I can't do anything about. LOGAN: You accept the way things are...you're an active participant in making them worse. MAX: Is the social studies class over for
today? LOGAN: That was an extraordinary display of athleticism the other night. A little too extraordinary. You want to tell me how you...? (Logan turns around and realizes Max has disappeared. A hover drone passes by overhead) (Max a
nd Sketch discuss how they're going to fix Sketch's problem) SKETCH: We're straight on how this is going down. MAX: You set up on Lydia. When she's going to your apartment... SKETCH: I give you the heads up. MAX: And I answer t
he door, pretend to be Natalie...who is where, by the way? SKETCH: Visiting her mother. (Lydia is at the entrance to Natalie's apartment. She buzzes up via the intercom) MAX: Who is it? LYDIA: A friend of your fiance's.
MAX: What do you want? LYDIA: To set the record straight about where Calvin was the other night. MAX: Who are you? LYDIA: My name's Lydia. Seems you and I have something in common. MAX: You said you knew where my fiance was the
other night. LYDIA: Yeah...with me...where he's been after work two, sometimes three nights a week. We have what you might call an, uh, intimate relationship. MAX: And I'm supposed to believe you because... LYDIA: He been sleeping in
a t-shirt lately? So you won't see the fingernail marks on his back. Bet you didn't know your boyfriend found a little pain exciting. Well, he didn't either, at first. MAX: Calvin told me I could expect a visit from you. I know all about how you t
hreatened him...that if he didn't break it off with me you'd save him the trouble. Well, it's over between you and him and we're getting married next month. LYDIA: You're a very understanding person. You're also a fool. MAX: I think you shou
ld go now. LYDIA: Not before I get something straight you prissy little bitch. I decide when I'm done with your boyfriend...not him, and certainly not you. Unless maybe you want to find out how sharp these nails really are. MAX: I'm working
very hard to respect my elders here but don't push your luck. LYDIA: Let go of my hand. (Max lets go and Lydia turns to leave, then quickly turns around to hit Max, who is expecting the blow. She twists Lydia's arm behind her arm and marches
her to the window and pushes her over, grabbing her feet) LYDIA: Help! Let me go! No, no. No, no. Don't let me go. MAX: This is how it's going to be, Lydia. You're going to take your threats and your cheesy acrylic nails and you're going to
go figure out your marriage instead of trying to make other people feel as miserable as you do, understand? LYDIA: Okay, okay. Okay! Okay! MAX: Say "I understand." LYDIA: I understand. (Sketch is glowing over how Max humiliate
d Lydia) SKETCH: You rock, Max. You...rock! MAX: Easy, Sketchy. SKETCH: No, I'm serious. That psycho got exactly what she deserved. MAX: Yes, Lydia may not have been one of humanity's finer specimens. SKETCH: Oh, she's t
oxic...monster in bed, but toxic. MAX: You would be making a mistake to come away from this thinking she's the villain in the piece. You are. SKETCH: She's the one who's trying to ruin my life. MAX: None of this would've happened if y
ou'd exercised even a smidgen of self-restraint or good judgment, which you didn't. SKETCH: Right, that's true, but... MAX: You were trying to have it both ways and you were being completely selfish. And if I ever find out you're fooling aro
und on Natalie again, you're the one who's going to be hanging by your ankles three stories up. Now understand, Calvin? SKETCH: Okay, okay. MAX: Say "I understand." SKETCH: I understand. (Vogelsang leaves his laundromat and wal
ks to his car. An intruder breaks in. Vogelsang realizes he forgot his car keys and goes back, only to get beat up by the intruder) VOGELSANG: Oh, man! (Max arrives back home after a long day of work) MAX: Kendra, you home? (Ma
x lies down to sleep, then sits up abruptly. The statue that she had attempted to steal from Logan is sitting on the table) (Maxs pays another visit to Logan Cale) LOGAN: You ever notice how cats always seem to turn up around dinnertime? MAX: I won't be staying. LOGAN: I'm not a half-bad cook. MAX: Like following me around and pestering the people I work with wasn't bad enough, but breaking into my apartment? LOGAN: It was open. MAX: You got a lot of nerve.
LOGAN: Me? You're the one who tried to rip off this place. MAX: I steal things in order to sell them for money. It's called commerce. But some stranger sneaking into a girl's apartment is bent. LOGAN: Bent? MAX: Bent. L
OGAN: I left you a present. MAX: Am I supposed to be grateful? LOGAN: That would not be inappropriate. MAX: How am I ever supposed to sleep there again knowing some stranger's probably touched everything I own? LOGAN: Well, if
you're that nervous, you're welcome to stay here. (Peter, the bodyguard, appears all of a sudden with gun drawn) MAX: Whoa there, Tex. LOGAN: We've been through this. It's all right, Peter. PETER: This is a tactical exposure wh
ich I go on record as not liking. LOGAN: Noted. Peter, do me a favor and look in on Lauren and Sophy. (Max walks over to the broken window she dove through, which has been boarded up) MAX: Send me the bill for this, by the way. LOGAN: Look...if I made you nervous or uncomfortable or creeped you out... MAX: Yes...on all counts. LOGAN: Well, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention. I had to see you. MAX: You'd think a guy who's taken on the job of saving the world
would have a few more important things to do than traipse around after some girl. LOGAN: I haven't been able to get you off my mind. MAX: You need to get out more. LOGAN: Come here. I want to show you something. (Logan leads Ma
x to a fancy mirror) MAX: American, neoclassic gold leaf detail, late 1800s. I could probably fence it for two or three grand. LOGAN: No, I meant this. Probably the most singularly beautiful face I've ever seen. MAX: Expensive gifts,
surprise late-night visits, over-the-top flattery. Do you always come on this strong? LOGAN: Only when I meet someone I have to know everything about. (Logan brushes aside Max's hair slightly and sees the bar code on the back of her neck) LOGAN: And now I think I know pretty much everything. Suppose I could help you locate the other ones? MAX: The other ones? LOGAN: The other ones like you. MAX: You lost me. LOGAN: Now, come on, Max. First I watch you take
out a 250-pound ex-cop bodyguard without breaking a sweat. MAX: Girls kick ass. Says so on the T-shirt. LOGAN: Then I watch you dive headfirst out a window like you're Rocky the flying squirrel. Then, I found these in your apartment.
(Logan shows Max a bottle of pills) MAX: You went through my stuff. LOGAN: They used to sell this stuff in health food stores as an energy boost. It's also a neurotransmitter sometimes used in homeopathy to control seizures. Then the light b
ulb went on. I got an anonymous report a few years ago about a covert genetics lab in the Wyoming mountains... MAX: I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but I'm out because you're a wack-job. LOGAN: I located a guy claiming to
be a med tech on something called Project Manticore, which was using recombinant DNA to produce a superior human...a warrior...an advanced infantry soldier. MAX: Not that I don't enjoy a good urban legend now and then, but what does any of this ha
ve to do with me? LOGAN: The bar code on your neck, Max. I know who you are and I know who you're running from. There were a couple dozen of these transgenic kids. And in '09, a few months before the pulse, 12 of them escaped. MAX: Twelve? < br> LOGAN: I know you're one of those kids, Max. MAX: We got separated right away. I never knew how many made it. LOGAN: How well do you remember the lab? MAX: I remember fine. I just didn't understand what was going on. It took me
a long time afterwards to figure things out. LOGAN: How much do you know? MAX: I know they made me. Even got the designer label on the back of my neck to prove it. LOGAN: Technical term for you is "chimera". MAX: Yeah, made-up
creature, like in mythology. Head of a lion, body of a goat. Your basic hodgepodge. LOGAN: Hardly. MAX: You said you could help. LOGAN: They would have used surrogate mothers to carry you to term after the in-vitro work. If I can trac
k one of them down... MAX: What's in it for you? LOGAN: Your help. MAX: I already don't like the sound of this. LOGAN: The woman you met, lauren? She supervised workers removing cortodiazapine from gelcaps by hand and replacing
it with powdered sugar. Real drug was shipped out of the country. Placebos were distributed to the county V.A. Hospital and veterans' clinics in the area. MAX: My pal Theo's on that stuff. You've got him scared silly he's going to die. LOGA
N: Your friend has reason to worry. Lauren's prepared to testify that she was working for one of Edgar Sonrisa's managers and I'm sure you're aware of the lengths he'll go to keep her quiet. MAX: Which affects me how? LOGAN: I've arranged to
put Lauren into witness protection. If you were to go with her... MAX: I didn't make it this far by looking for trouble. LOGAN: She's put her life on the line and her faith in me. MAX: Her first mistake. LOGAN: But if she was
with someone like you...with your background and training the risk goes way down. MAX: Are you high? I've got people looking to either put me in a cage for the rest of my life, turn me into a science project, or kill me. Probably all three. Now I'v
e managed to drop off the radar screen and I plan to keep it that way. LOGAN: Max, hear me out. MAX: I've heard enough. (Max leaves and heads over to the laundromat) MAX: What happened? VOGELSANG: I walked in on some hum
p ransacking the place. Disgruntled former client. Who knows? (Vogelsang writes a message to Max on a note pad. He knows his office is bugged) MAX: As long as you're all right. VOGELSANG: Yeah, I'll live. Uh, regarding your case, I'm
afraid I've come up with some bad news about your fiance. Let me get the file. Would you like to use the restroom to freshen up? MAX: Please. VOGELSANG: Please. (They head outside) VOGELSANG: I-I don't know what your story is,
and I really don't want to. MAX: Here's your money. VOGELSANG: No, no, no. Somebody wants you. Whoever tossed this place, they were just trying to make it look like a robbery. MAX: How's this about me? VOGELSANG: Because somebo
dy is looking for you and I want to stay out of the line of fire. They got a bug on my computer keyboard. There's a tap on my phone. A mic in the light fixture. MAX: So, somebody's tracking one of your investigations, like you said. VOGELSAN
G: Hardware is way too sophisticated for my clientele. 99.9% of them...they got me looking for lost dogs, extracurricular tail. I mean, whoever it is is on top of the food chain. MAX: You're crazy. VOGELSANG: Yeah. Maybe. But if I were you,
I'd take the money. Get out of town while I can. (Max is walking her motorcycle back to her apartment) LITTLE BIT: Bang! Bang! You're dead! MAX: Oh, you got me. THEO'S WIFE: Come on, Omar. MAX: You okay? THEO'S WI
FE: I took Theo to the hospital tonight. He couldn't walk so I borrowed some money and we took a cab...but he didn't make it. He's dead. Oh, my God. Oh! Oh...oh, Theo... Oh, God...oh... (More flashbacks from the government center) (Max arriv
es at work the next day late. She looks dazed) NORMAL: Oh, oh. Lovely of you to join us. Lovely of you to join us. Here, I have a hot run to 842 Beulah. You can tell your pal, Theo, he just got himself fired, all right? Not that he cares, but, you
know...his wife and kid might. MAX: Theo's dead. NEWSWOMAN: Two men are dead and another critically wounded after a shoot-out near the superior court building today. This dramatic footage was captured by police hover drones. (We see L
auren run to safety, with Peter being shot in the process. Sophy is captured, and Logan is seriously wounded) SKETCH: Did you see that one guy? MAX: Shut up. (Lydecker is being briefed on the stakeout at Vogelsang's laundromat) AGENT 1: We been set up on Vogelsang 36 hours and so far, nothing. AGENT 2: A few customer complaints - the dryer ate my money, rinse cycle not long enough...that kind of thing. AGENT 1: And three or four PI clients...strictly run of the mi
ll. I don't think this guy can help us. LYDECKER: 23 computer hits from one detective browsing Wyoming DMV records from ten years ago. Employment files on health care personnel working in the Gillette area around the same time. He searches prison r
ecords for unidentified males and females approximately 18 to 20 years old and you want me to believe it's happenstance? AGENT 1: Since the pulse, there's been how many thousand missing person searches? This could be one of them. AGENT 2: An
d nothing in those searches connects him with Manticore. LYDECKER: No. He's trying to track down these kids and we're not going to do anything to get in his way. (Max visits Logan at the hospital) (Max checks Logan's wallet for cash)
MAX: Nurses beat me to it. Take a header into the deep end when the pool's empty, you're going to go splat. Law of gravity. And even Jesus Christ himself had to obey the law of gravity...for a while, anyway. The one I feel sorry for is the poor wom
an with the kid. She should have told you to stick it like I did, but she bought your crap about doing what's right. And just so you know, I don't feel the slightest guilt about not watching her back. That's on you hotshot, 100%. (Max looks out the
window and notices someone getting ready to shoot from across the street) MAX: I probably ought to let him just finish the job. At least then, more innocent people won't get kacked on account of you being a bored rich kid. On the other hand, you d
id lay that statue on me, which I was able to fence for a couple of bucks. I've been wanting to buy myself a new motorcycle. Thinking about stepping up to a 1200. (Max uses Logan's computer to try to match the guy who blew up Logan's room at the ho
spital. She identifies him as Bruno Anselmo) MAX: Bingo. (Max hears a noise and finds Lauren) MAX: Damn! Are you all right? LAUREN: They took my daughter. MAX: They won't hurt her. Your daughter's the only leverage they
have to keep you quiet. LAUREN: Can you help me get her back? MAX: I'd really like to...so I will. The shooter who tried to finish off Logan works for Sonrisa. Surprise, surprise. Bruno Anselmo. Born in 1990, served in Iraq, dishonorable dis
charge, convicted of armed robbery, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, arson, attempted rape. Your basic Renaissance dirt bag. LAUREN: What can we do? MAX: This isn't my regular line of work. I'm making it up as I go. (At Sonrisa'
s mansion, Max hides in the bushes as a guest arrives) DRIVER: Mayor Steckler to see Mr. Sonrisa. GUARD: Open the trunk. (Max climbs over the wall and looks around the mansion. She hears a noise and ducks into a nearby room) MA
DAM: It's not what it looks like. I'm diabetic. Who are you? MAX: Bruno's girlfriend. MADAM: Oh, yeah? MAX: Yeah. MADAM: But, see, tonight, wives and girlfriends aren't invited. MAX: No? MADAM: No. 'Cause tonight
the girls are here in a more or less professional capacity. They all work for me. And you don't. Let's go. MAX: Okay, okay. Do you ever have to do something you really don't want to do? MADAM: How I make my living. What's your point?
(Max punches the woman in the face and knocks her out) (Max changes into more formal attire and walks down the stairs to the main party area) GIRL: Girl, you work that dress. BRUNO: Mr. Sonrisa saw you on the cameras. He wants you to
come see him. MAX: I'm on a break. BRUNO: Guess again. (Bruno leads Max to a private area where Sonrisa is playing poker) SONRISA: The only thing better than four queens...is five. Come over here next to me, for luck. MA
X: I can see to it your winning streak continues. SONRISA: I'll bet you can. Sit. MAX: Not right now. SONRISA: Not right now. Okay. When? MAX: After you get a new personality and lose about 20 years. SONRISA: Quite a mou
th on a girl so young. My guess is, talking isn't what it does best. MAX: Only way you're ever going to find out is reincarnation. Fact is, I am going to provide a service and, uh...you ARE going to pay me. You're going to pay me $50,000. (S
onrisa laughs) MAX: And I'm going to give you Lauren Braganza. (Everyone in the room becomes silent) SONRISA: Give us a minute. Now! (The guests leave) SONRISA: Check her. (Bruno searches Max for concealed weapons
or a wire) SONRISA: Who are you? MAX: You going to put me on your Christmas card list? BRUNO: No wire. MAX: Now that the pelvic exam's out of the way...want the woman, here's how it works. You pull 50 large out of your mattres
s and I make a call to bring her over. BRUNO: Yeah? Or I work your face with a pair of pliers for a couple hours til you tell us where she is. SONRISA: Bruno... MAX: The plan is I call her cell to okay a meet at a certain location. Yo
u're a player. I'm bringing you this on a plate. My fee is just the normal cost of doing business. SONRISA: Pull the cash. (Bruno leaves to get the money) SONRISA: So...how do you get this woman to come to me? MAX: I told her t
hat it's just business to you. That all you want is a reasonable solution to this. You give her back her daughter. She agrees to leave the country. I put her on a train to Spain or wherever. SONRISA: And she bought that? MAX: I have sincere
eyes. SONRISA: Make the call. MAX: She's going to want to know her little girl's all right. SONRISA: She's got my word. MAX: She's going to want to hear for herself. Look, we've got to keep the momentum up here not give her a c
hance to overthink things. If she hears her kid's voice... (Max calls Lauren's cell phone) LAUREN: Hello? MAX: Hang on, Lauren. We're conferencing in Sophy. (Sonrisa speed-dials a number) THUG: Yeah? SONRISA: Put
the kid on. SOPHY: Hello? LAUREN: Sophy, are you okay? SOPHY: Mommy, where are you? LAUREN: Don't worry. I'm coming to get you. SOPHY: When? LAUREN: Soon, baby. SOPHY: Mommy, I'm scared. LAUREN: Ther
e's nothing to be afraid of. Everything's going to be okay. I love you... (Sonrisa breaks off the phone call) MAX: Can you put that in a bag or something? SONRISA: No, no, no, no, no. You get this...when I get her. MAX: Not goo
d enough. Compromise - Bruno comes with me. He holds the money til mommy shows up. Then we close escrow. What you do with her after I blaze doesn't keep me awake at night. SONRISA: You better hope you're as smart as you think you are. (Max a
nd Bruno arrive at a cheesy motel) BRUNO: You know, that whole thing about the pliers, I, uh...never would have done it...probably. Actually, I, uh...I don't know, I think you're...I think you're pretty cool. MAX: Yeah? BRUNO: Yeah. Y
ou're smart. You're hot. You stand on your own two feet. You got a wicked sense of humor. Geez, zinged the boss there a couple of times. I...it was all I could do... MAX: So what do you think? Maybe after I betray the woman who trusts me and you gr
ease her and her daughter we could, um...go on a date? BRUNO: Yeah...you got a bad attitude. MAX: I like to keep it professional is all. BRUNO: So call her. Get her over here. MAX: Actually, that's not going to be necessary. BRUNO: What? MAX: That's not why we're here. BRUNO: What the hell are you talking about? You call her! MAX: Geez, you are so stupid the word "special" comes to mind. Sonrisa recruit you off the short bus? BRUNO: Call the s
kank now! MAX: You haven't figured this out yet, have you? You walk in here thinking you're going to cap her, then cap me and take the money back to your boss with your tail wagging? But it's really the other way around. You think I'm the whack? Th
e fact is, you're the whack. See, what you don't know is you're already in the last two minutes of your life. BRUNO: You're in the last two seconds if you don't cut the crap. MAX: Sonrisa had no choice but to call me in because you lack that
professional edge, Bruno. Any real pro would have popped me the second he saw this thing going sideways but you're still standing there with your thumb up your butt. It's pathetic. (Bruno shoots at Max who easily dodges the bullet, and then prompt
ly lands a few hard blows on Bruno) MAX: Pathetic. Come on, you're not even trying. (Max drops the gun next to Bruno's hand. Bruno fires some more shots at Max, and gets pummeled and thrown across the room in return. Max grabs a lamp cord an
d starts to tie Bruno up) MAX: Is that all you've got? The man was right...you are a liability. You can hardly blame him the way you've been taking care of business. Or should I say not taking care of it? BRUNO: What the hell are you talking
about? MAX: I'm hired to do a piece of work...my mark goes down and stays down. Your's makes it to the hospital. So then you got to go finish the job, only you don't, and the cops get the whole thing on videotape. BRUNO: That's a lot of cra
p. MAX: You were caught on a hover drone shooting from a roof across the street. BRUNO: I hate those things. MAX: It's embarrassing to the professional community. BRUNO: No, no, no. No, the boss knows I've always been loyal. MAX: He's got exposure. Man's figured the odds, and he can't take the chance. (Max pulls down Bruno's pants) BRUNO: Hey, what the hell are you doing? (Max slaps Bruno on his butt) BRUNO: Ow! Don't touch my ass, man. MAX: This won't hurt. A triple dose of insulin. You'll go into a coma...a couple of minutes, you'll stop breathing and on a busy night the coroner will probably mistake it for an OD...plus, it's way classier than blowing your brains out. (Bruno fr
ees himself and grabs his gun. Max makes a run for it and apparently gets shot in the back, landing in the pool. Bruno runs out to see Max's motionless body lying at the bottom of the pool) BRUNO: Double-crossing son of a bitch thinks I'm going to
roll on him? I'll do a hell of a lot more than that. (Bruno takes off. Max, who had faked being shot, climbs out of the pool and hurries to make a phone call) VOGELSANG: Yeah? MAX: This is your punk-ass client. I need you to trace a n
umber for me. VOGELSANG: Are you sure you want to have this conversation on the phone? MAX: Just do it. 2-0-6-5-5-5-0-1-8-7-2-8. VOGELSANG: Okay, would you...hold on a minute, okay? Uh, 7-2...what? MAX: 7-2-8-9-2. Come on. I do
n't have all day. VOGELSANG: You got a pencil? MAX: Just give it to me. I'll remember. VOGELSANG: All right, hold on. 1-7-4-9-5 Euclid. MAX: I'm on my way. (Max arrives at the address and a group of federal agents in SWA
T gear are getting ready to enter) TAC ONE: This is tac one. Subject's inside, sir. Standing by for your orders. LYDECKER: I want a full perimeter seal. Nobody goes in until I say so. HEAD AGENT: It's one girl. Why don't we just take
her when she walks out the door? LYDECKER: Listen to me carefully. When you have the roads locked off at the front and the back and the alleys on both sides...a man by every door, window, air vent, mail slot, and rat hole around this building...the
n you come back to me and you tell me that you're ready. Okiedokie? HEAD AGENT: Yes, sir. Let's move out. (Inside, a group of thugs are watching boxing on a TV with bad reception) COMMENTATOR: "Do you want to continue?" He said, "yeah
, hell, yeah." That's a fighter. (Federal SWAT team is being deployed) THUG: Get in there, you mutt...hit him again! COMMENTATOR: He's in trouble...down he goes! THUG: Your boy's a wuss. THUG: Come on! THUG: Wuss,
wuss, wuss. (SWAT team moves into position. Max ambushes the last officer) THUG: Go, go! Ah! Ah, geez. THUG: He's a wuss. A waste of panty hose. LYDECKER: Stand by. Full breach on my count. Three...two...one. (There are
a few explosions and federal agents enter the building with guns drawn) HEAD AGENT: Federal officers! On the floor. Get down! Drop your weapons now! THUG: No! You drop yours! HEAD AGENT: I said, on the floor! Face down! Drop your wea
pons! (Laser sighting on the agents' guns are turned on and the thugs see they are badly outnumbered) THUG: All right. HEAD AGENT: Go, go! (Max walks out of the building dressed in the SWAT gear of the officer she had ambushed
earlier. She's carrying Sophy in her arms) LYDECKER: You...stop. (Max turns around to face Lydecker) LYDECKER: Put the girl in my car. (Max turns back around and walks off) LYDECKER: Tac one, what is your status? Do you
have her or not? TAC ONE: Negative. We do not have the subject. Repeat, we do not have the subject. (Lydecker hears the sound of a motorcycle revving and realizes that Max slipped through his trap) (Max meets Lauren on an abandoned st
reet) LAUREN: Sophy! SOPHY: Mommy! LAUREN: Oh. Oh! Thank... (Max takes off) (At Jam Pony headquarters the next morning) NEWSWOMAN: Businessman-philanthropist Edgar Sonrisa was cut down in a hail of gunfire at his
mansion late last night. Authorities identified the assailant as 32-year-old Bruno Anselmo... COURIER: Delivery. NEWSWOMAN: Who died at the scene when bodyguards for the well-known benefactor... COURIER: Need a signature. NEWSW
OMAN: Returned fire. Police are investigating. (Normal signs for the package) NORMAL: Here you go. COURIER: All right. $127. NORMAL: For what? COURIER: COD. From, uh...Nutman's mortuary. NORMAL: No. There must be
some mistake. COURIER: No. Thelonius Argentary, this address. SKETCH: That's Theo in there? COURIER: Uh, not till I get my money. NORMAL: I'm not his next of kin. Anyway, I don't...I don't have that kind of cash laying around.
HERBAL: Theo rode for this place a long time, mon. MAX: He showed most of us the ropes. CINDY: Hmm. (Original Cindy empties a trash basket and the other Jam Pony employees donate money to pay for the package) HERBAL: Kee
p your money, mon. We can take care of our own. MAX: I'll make sure his family gets this. (Max pays a visit to Logan) EYES ONLY: 47 people paying $20,000 each to be smuggled into Canada so they could earn enough money to eat...are dea
d. They were marched overboard last night by their ruthless handlers who operate with the knowledge, support and active collaboration of government officials only too happy to look the other way for a piece of the action. This must never happen again. Tho
se responsible are on notice. Their power and privilege will not protect them. They will be held accountable. This has been a streaming freedom video bulletin...via the Eyes Only informant net. Peace...out. MAX: See you're back at it. Rockin' the b
oat. LOGAN: Somebody's got to. MAX: I would have come sooner, but...I didn't. How you doin'? LOGAN: Not in any pain...the good and bad news of a blown-out spinal cord. MAX: I'm sorry. LOGAN: My mother used to say, "The u
niverse is right on schedule. Everything happens the way it's supposed to." MAX: You believe that? LOGAN: I've never been much for trying to figure out why bad things happen. I just know they do. So, the job's trying to figure out how to dea
l with the consequences...which you did. Took that son of a bitch out. MAX: Not me personally. LOGAN: Well, on account of you Sonrisa didn't get to kill the judge or buy the jury. He's gone, once and for all. It was war, Max, and you won. MAX: He had it coming. A friend of mine died on account of him. LOGAN: Sorry. This is for you. Open it. (Max opens the box to find the statue that Logan had left at her apartment earlier) LOGAN: Turned up on the black market...so
mehow. MAX: Thanks. LOGAN: I need a favor. MAX: You can keep this. I really don't have anyplace to put it. LOGAN: I need you to do a little leg work for me. Joel Solinski. This guy's got a wife with three kids, an ex-wife with
two kids, a mistress, and two girlfriends. The wives get houses, the mistress a condo, and everybody gets a car...all on a harbormaster's salary. MAX: I caught the tail end of your hack. The guy's on the take. He's paid to look the other way while
the smugglers deep-six their cargo. LOGAN: He's made a fortune...as an accessory to murder. MAX: Okay, so the guy's a beast. Doesn't mean I got to get involved. LOGAN: You are involved. By being alive, you're involved. MAX: I g
ot my own problems. LOGAN: Look...maybe we got screwed out of living in a time when we could hang out for the afternoon in a cafe someplace wearing $2,000 wristwatches, planning our next vacation, but the world got a whole lot meaner all of a sudde
n. It wasn't supposed to...but it did. So now it's back to the law of the jungle and there are predators and victims. MAX: And you still think you can do something to change that? LOGAN: With your help. MAX: Look, one thing I'm not is
a chump. You want to get the rest of your ass shot off...be my guest, but I kind of like being able to walk. (Logan smirks and opens up a cabinet, pulling out a file) LOGAN: On another matter...federal corrections used to keep records on di
stinguishing marks...scars, tattoos. I did a search and came up with this. ID-ed as a Michael Hanover. Booked for armed robbery nine years ago. He escaped custody after four hours. Hasn't been seen or heard from since. (Max takes a look at the file
Logan hands her and recognizes Zack) MAX: Zack. MAX (voiceover): I knew it. I always knew Zack was out there somewhere, but you know, just my luck this guy Logan had to be the one to find him. Now he figures I'm going to go and do the right
thing because I owe him...like I even care. (The scene fades out with Max standing again on the Space Neeedle, looking over a dark city) Friday, January 11, 2002
How to Be an Effective Boyfriend, by Amabelle. I think this is cute, Amabelle! Sometimes, don't you just wish our bfs or gfs came with an instruction manual? Or a marketing brochure at least? I happened to see this talk by Barbara DeAngelis on PBS the other night. She's written a lot of relationsh ip books and her ideas make a lot of sense. She took out a plastic cylinder and started talking about how each of us has a love bank, about how men and women need to keep each other's heart replenished regularly. The emptier we feel inside, the less we ar e ready or willing to give. I think this doesn't just apply to love but to every kind of human relationship (work, school, friends). It was very simple, but it got me thinking about what ways I have been neglecting relationships recently. I try but need t o be more consistent and focused. Plus this year I'm planning to take on all of these new responsibilities. Work, school, business, sports...Sigh.... Will I find a good balance? At least I try to be accessible with people. I am good at calling and staying in touch. I keep my phone and address list updated and very organized. An eternal optimist, I try to be creative and work things out. You know what would be nice to have? A secretary or personal assistant. Ya. Thursday, January 10, 2002
I'm gonna try something different now. One of the reasons you come here to is read something good. It's hard for someone who keeps a journal online to keep it consistently high quality because his life is usually neither always interesting nor goo d. (ehem) So much good writing and fiction is out there that we don't have time to explore. As avid readers, each year we dip our heads into the overflowing trough of books and movies and start guzzling away, hoping to at least briefly touch on quality an d gain something memorable for our time. So now and then, I'm gonna find some good fiction for you and print it here. My head is hurting from lack of sleep, I don't have time to write something charming, and I see so much great stuff ignored out there. He re goes! Screenplays and scripts are so fun to read anyhow. All Rights are Reserved for all of the script authors. I got all of this freely off of the Internet and don't mean to infringe copyrights or otherwise take advantage of the authors:
FADE IN and PAN DOWN to a large, darkened BASEMENT ROOM in a decrepit
tenement building, just before sunrise. Through the half-boarded up windows, falling snow is visible. The room is cluttered with worse-for-wear furniture including a table with a teapot on top, an ornate mirror, and, against one wall, an old-fashioned bed
. Pushing a chair aside, she puts on a pair of slippers, rises from her bed, and crosses to the only door, to make
sure that its locks are secure. Satisfied, she turns to the window where the policeman still waits and watches. A NOISE from the street stirs the policeman who rises and disappears from view. Wanda wraps a shawl around herself and breathes a sigh of reli
ef at his departure. She is on her way back to bed when a piercing WHISTLE blows, followed by two loud GUNSHOTS. Startled, Wanda turns to see and hear the policeman stagger into view and fall from street level, down a flight of steps, to just outsi
de her door. She moves to the door, fearfully, and presses herself against it. The policeman’s gasping voice calls out. His name is HAROLD BELDEN. BELDEN (offscreen): Help. Please, help. WANDA: Who is it? Go away. BELDEN (offscreen): I’
ve been shot. I need help. WANDA: Who are you? BELDEN (offscreen): Officer... Police... Please, open the door. I need help. She makes no move to help him. WANDA: You’re lying to me. I know you. You can’t fool me. BELDEN (offs
creen): Help. WANDA: You’re lying. You’re no policeman. Why can’t you leave me alone? I know who you are. I know what you are. Her chin trembles. A FAST PAN off of Wanda reveals the ornate mirror opposite her -- in which stands the omniscient
NARRATOR, wearing a suit and tie. NARRATOR: An old woman, living in a nightmare. An old woman who has fought a thousand battles with death and always won. Now she’s faced with a grim decision. Whether or not to open a door. And in some strange and f
rightening way, she knows that this seemingly ordinary door leads to the Twilight Zone. FADE OUT FADE IN on Wanda, still pressed against the door. BELDEN (offscreen): Won’t somebody help? Wanda hesitatingly opens the door -- but le
aves the chain bolted. Through the crack, Wanda sees the handsome, young, uniformed officer Harold Belden lying on his back in the snow, gasping for breath, and in great pain. BELDEN: Unless... you help me, I’m going to die. I-I don’t think I can mo
ve. WANDA: Don’t say that. It isn’t fair. You’re trying to trick me. (abruptly) Don’t move. I-I-I-I’ll close the door. BELDEN: What? Listen, I’ve been shot. I’m bleeding to death. Please. My name is Harold Belden. I need a doctor. Please, call
the hospital. WANDA: I haven’t got a telephone. I’d have to unlock the door. You can’t ask me to do that. I don’t want to die. You understand? I know who you are. BELDEN (incredulous): You’re not going to help me? You’re going to let me die?
I don’t understand. But -- (wincing in pain) It hurts... It hurts... WANDA: Stop. Stop. Why do you torture me? It isn’t fair. BELDEN: I can’t move. It hurts. WANDA: It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. But she knows she has no choice.
Reluctantly, Wanda unchains the door and lets it swing wide open. She hesitates a moment and then scurries OUTSIDE to Belden, bends down, and touches his shoulder. In awe, she draws her hand away, looks at it, and then stares at Belden. WANDA: I’m s
till alive. A wave of joy sweeps over her face. At once, she helps Belden to crawl into her room. Once safely inside, she quickly shuts and locks the door. DISSOLVE TO: Wanda’s BASEMENT ROOM, a few minutes later. Belden rests in a bed on
the opposite side of the room as Wanda’s. Wanda fixes him some hot tea. BELDEN: Listen, you should try and get some rest. Really, I feel much better. When the doctor gets here, he’ll take me off your hands. Belden sees the tense expression on
Wanda’s face. BELDEN: You didn’t call the doctor? Wanda shakes her head. BELDEN: Why not? WANDA: I haven’t got a telephone. BELDEN: But couldn’t you go to one of the neighbors? WANDA: There aren’t any. They’ve all mov
ed away. Trucks came and took away their furniture. First one, and then another. And... even-even if I could call the doctor somehow, I couldn’t take a chance and let him in. Don’t you see? It might be him. BELDEN: Him? WANDA: Mister Death. I
know he’s out there. He’s trying to get in. He comes to the door and knocks. He begs me to let him in. Last week, he said he came from the gas company. Oh, he-he-he’s clever. After that, he claimed to be a contractor hired by the city. I knew who he was.
He said this building was condemned, that I’d have to leave. I kept the door locked. Then he went away. He knows I’m on to him. BELDEN: Mister Death? Is this a person, like you or me? WANDA: I know it sounds crazy. But it’s true. I know it’s t
rue. BELDEN: People die all over the world. Now, how could one man be in all those places at once? WANDA: I don’t know. Don’t ask me that. Maybe there is more than one. Maybe... Wanda breaks down in tears. Belden reaches out to her, touc
hes her arm. BELDEN: Please. Don’t cry. I... I don’t want to hurt you. Please. I-I’m sorry. There. Wanda rises, pours a cup of tea, and hands it to Belden who sips from it throughout the following: WANDA: At first, I couldn’t be sure. I
t was a long time ago. I was on a bus. There was an old woman sitting in front of me, knitting. Socks, I think. There was something about her face. I felt I knew her. Then this young man got on. There were empty seats, but he sat down beside her. He didn’
t say anything but... his being there upset her. He seemed a nice young man. When she dropped her yarn, he picked it up. Right in front of me. He held it up to her. I saw their fingers touch. He got out at the next stop. When the bus reached the end of th
e line... she was dead. BELDEN: Hm. But you said yourself, she was an old woman. WANDA: But I’ve seen him since, several times. I’ve seen him crowds, I’ve watched for him. Every time someone I knew died, he was there. Once he was a young sol
dier. A salesman. A taxi driver. Someone you wouldn’t notice unless you were watching. I wondered why I could see him. And that no one else could. Then, I knew. It was because I was getting older... and my time was coming. I could see clearer than younger
people could. BELDEN: All right. But if you knew what he looks like, then why be afraid? You could avoid him. WANDA: Because his face is always different. I couldn’t be sure. BELDEN: How ‘bout when you go out? Now, couldn’t he touch yo
u then, if he wanted to? WANDA: I never go out. BELDEN: Never? WANDA: I haven’t been out for years. BELDEN: Well, what do you do about food? WANDA: A boy delivers it. I leave him money and a list. And I always wait until he’s
gone away before I unlock the door. BELDEN: How can you live like this? WANDA: But if I don’t live like this, I won’t live at all. If I don’t watch out, if I let down even for a moment, he’ll get in. I know he will. She looks around at
the dark room. WANDA: I haven’t always lived like this. I was young once. People said I was pretty. I lived out in the sunlight. (touches her face) People said I’d spoil my fine complexion. I didn’t care. I loved outdoor things. I lived out in the
sunlight. Wanda looks down and sees that, beside her on the floor, a small patch of sunlight has found its way through her boarded up windows. She reaches out and puts her hand in its warmth. WANDA: I’ve always hated the dark and the cold. I’
m old. I’ve lived a long time. But I don’t want to die. I’d rather live in the dark than not live at all. Belden leans forward to hand her his empty teacup and winces in pain. BELDEN: Here. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re alone here. An
d there’s nobody at the door. You need some rest-- The pain becomes too much for him and he leans back in his bed. BELDEN: And I need help. At a loss as to what to do, Wanda rises and walks away from him, wringing her hands. She closes a
cabinet door, sits on a table, and paces nervously about. Suddenly, her attention is drawn to something outside a window. A burly MAN is walking down the stairs to her door. He KNOCKS. Belden gives Wanda a look, but she is paralyzed with fear, clutching
her bed frame, and shaking her head. The KNOCKING continues throughout. WANDA: No. BELDEN: There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’d better answer it. Wanda moves slowly to the door. BELDEN: Go on. That’s right. Go ahead. Go ahead,
answer it. Wanda leaves the chain on, but opens the door a crack. The burly man’s face appears. He tries to push the door in. MAN: I’m sorry, lady, but I’ve got my orders. Wanda panics and tries to slam the door shut, but the man gets h
is foot in. MAN: I can’t fool around any longer. He’s too strong for her. The chain breaks and he forces the door in and Wanda collapses to the floor. She lies completely still. Is she unconscious? Dead? The man moves to her body at once and p
laces his hand on her neck. FADE OUT on the image of the man’s HAND: is this the touch of Death? FADE IN on the man standing over Wanda, minutes later. She is in her bed now. And the man is rubbing her hand as she regains consciousness. MAN: E
asy, lady. Just lie quiet till you get your strength back. You gave me quite a scare when you caved in like that. Wanda stares at the man’s face and then at her hand in his. WANDA: And still I live. MAN: Well... You’ve got to understand,
ma’am. I-I don’t get no pleasure out of bustin’ in doors. You don’t seem to realize how important this is. I’ve got a crew and equipment coming in an hour to pull this tenement down. Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but it’s long overdue. I-I’m surprised it’s
still standing. WANDA: And you’re really... not Mister Death? MAN: I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is I got a contract to demolish this row of buildings. Everybody else moved out long ago. Until the other day, I thought th
is building was deserted. I-I seen them windows boarded up and I-I figured you moved when the rest of ‘em did. WANDA: You want me to go outside? You want me to leave here? I can’t. MAN: You were notified months ago, right? I’m just trying to d
o my job. These buildings were condemned by the city and I’m the one who’s got to tear ‘em down. WANDA: How can you? MAN: This building has had it. It’s worn out. Used up. All these buildings have got to come down. Wanda clutches the b
ars of her bed frame in a way that suggests she is trapped in a cage. MAN: I ain’t a monster, lady. I’ve got a heart just like anybody else, but, uh -- I can see how you could get attached to a place and not want to see it wrecked but when a buildin
g is old, it’s dangerous. It’s gotta come down to make room for a new one. That’s life, lady. Old make room for the new. People get the idea that I’m some kind of destroyer but -- They think I get kicks out of, uh, tearing stuff down. That ain’t the way i
t is. I just clear the ground so that other people can build. In a way, I help ‘em do it. Look around, it’s the way things are. A big tree falls and new ones grow right out of the same ground. Old animals die and young ones take their places. Even people
step aside when it’s time. WANDA: I won’t. Wanda suddenly notices that her door is wide open. WANDA: The door! She rises at once and shuts it. The man confronts her. MAN: There’s no need in... Wanda turns from him and
presses herself against the door. MAN: What’s the sense of locking a door that won’t even be here in an hour? If you’ve got any possessions you’d want to keep, I-I’d move ‘em out. I’ll help ya. Wanda turns to glare at him. MAN: Now, lo
ok, I’ve been trying to go easy but if you insist on staying here, I’ll have to call a cop. Please cooperate, lady. The mention of the police reminds Wanda of something. She leaves the door and crosses halfway to the mysteriously silent Belden, stil
l lying in bed on the other side of the room. WANDA (to herself): Of course. (to Belden) Explain to him. Tell him the reason I can’t go out there. You’ll help me, won’t you? Belden merely looks at her, saying nothing. The man joins Wanda in th
e middle of the room and stares right at Belden, but is somehow unable to see him. MAN (to Wanda): What are you doing? Who’re you talking to? WANDA (to the man): Mister Belden is a policeman. (to Belden) Please tell him. But Belden remai
ns silent. And the man sees no one. The man looks at Wanda as if she’s crazy. MAN (to Wanda): I’m sorry, but if you’re still here when the crew arrives, I-I’ll have to call a cop. The man crosses to the door, opens it, pauses to look back symp
athetically at Wanda, then exits, leaving the door wide open. Wanda watches him go, then turns to Belden. WANDA: Why didn’t you help me? She hurriedly crosses to the door. WANDA: I thought you understood. She shuts the door and, a
s she does so, it begins to dawn on her. She turns back to Belden. WANDA: You. He looked right at you... and didn’t see you. (full realization) No! BELDEN: Look in the mirror, Wanda. Wanda turns, walks to the ornate mirror, and looks. In
the mirror, Belden’s bed is empty. She turns quickly to see -- and a FAST PAN reveals -- Belden still lying in the bed. WANDA: You tricked me! It was you all the time. BELDEN: Yes. I tricked you. WANDA: But why? The moment I let you ins
ide, you could have taken me. Anytime. But you were nice. You made me trust you. Slowly, Belden sits up in bed, no longer in pain. BELDEN: But I had to make you understand. Am I really so bad? Am I really so frightening? You’ve talked to me. Y
ou’ve confided in me. Have I tried to hurt you? Belden rises. BELDEN: It isn’t me you’re afraid of. You understand me. What you’re afraid of is the unknown. Don’t. Don’t be afraid. WANDA: But I am afraid. Belden takes a step towar
d Wanda. BELDEN: The running’s over. It’s time to rest. (offers his hand) Give me your hand. WANDA: I don’t want to die. BELDEN: Trust me. WANDA: No. No. BELDEN (gently): Mother... (steps forward) Give me your hand. An
odd expression crosses Wanda’s face. Very slowly, she takes his hand. Belden smiles. BELDEN: You see? No shock. No engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the b
eginning. WANDA: When will it happen? When will we go? BELDEN: Go? Look. He nods toward her bed. She turns and sees... her body lying on the mattress, a peaceful smile on its face. She turns back to Belden and grins. BELDEN: We ha
ve already begun. Belden opens the door and leads Wanda to the doorway. The room magically darkens behind them as Belden offers Wanda his arm and she takes it. They walk into the sunshine, up the stairs, and down the street, chatting amiably. NARRATOR (voice over): There was an old woman who lived in a room and, like all of us, was frightened of the dark. But who discovered in the minute last fragment of her life that there was nothing in the dark that wasn’t there when the lights were on. Ob
ject lesson for the more frightened amongst us -- in or out of the Twilight Zone. PAN UP and DISSOLVE TO to a field of stars in a night sky and FADE OUT ********************************
Very funny! Online Boyfriend Application for 2002. Maybe I should write a girlfriend version... Hey, I just took a second look. This girl Chinh is a Vietnamese stripp er who blogs! (Or should I say a blogger who strips?) Her older site. This will probably occupy the men for a couple of hours. God...this makes me laugh! Lord of the Rings in Two Hours. Have you seen this? Date-My-Sister project. Ok, stop slacking off! Get to work.
Wednesday, January 09, 2002
Very tired tonight. I think I'm becoming sick. Went with David tonight to Stanford to see a demo by the Stanford Taekwondo Club. Beautiful gym and cool people. We are considering joining the club next week. It stems from the New Year's Eve party I went to at Gap's house. He and a lot of the people there either happened to be with this Stanford club or knew each other in college. Met Chris, a student and head of the university's mart ial arts program, both at the party and tonight. He and others really encouraged me to join. After my yoga teacher stopped to start some business venture, I've been looking around for some group that's more strenuous and structured to build my body. I t's a long ways to drive, but we'd meet at least twice a week and be part of this spirited team with high standards. Sounds exhilarating and just what I need! So I'll definitely be seeing Ginny next month
! Yay! May hang out with her and some of her friends too. Gap's party had a lot of fascinating people: a Russian PhD student at Stanford studying cryptography, a cute girl from New Zealand doing neurobiology, and a fun-loving Indian couple who love
clubbing (see photo below)---Kaushik (architect from Bangalore) and Tara (law student/Valley Girl who told me about her passion for international law). Kaushik compared clubs in Paris, here, and Bangalore (the Silicon Valley of India) for me and said our
clubs were so PG rated and tame. In India they have cages and the works, and the two of them would party all night in Paris. My friend Jay also raves about the larger, wilder clubs he loved to go to in Manila. No comparison. Uh huh---now I feel like a hil
lbillie---yessir, Jumpin' Jehosaphat! Someone brought a breathalyzer to the party, so Alan (this guy in the pic below with rings in his eyebrow and tongue) challenged all of us to guess his Blood Alcohol Level. Whoever came closest without going over woul
d win. Everyone who went over would have to drink a shot of whatever was on Gap's extensive kitchen bar. Met this Indian girl Monica doing her medical residency in speech therapy, Chris's petite, warm girlfriend Jeannine who has a cute tattoo on her shoul
der, and Madeline, Gap's girlfriend who is in pharmacy school and made an excellent spinach dip. Gap himself is Korean and head of this Asian American political group in the county. He works as a field rep for Congresswoman Anna Eshoo and is applying to law school. He came on my TV show a few months ago with James, head of Korean Americans for Political Empowerment. Gap had invited me to a picnic this summer for the political group, and I met a lot of selectively
friendly guys who, on first meeting me, asked me: "What's your ZIP code?" If I lived in their district they would bombard me with well-wishes and business cards. They were mostly running for city council or the Board of Education or Board of Supervisors.
I developed this sour taste in my mouth pretty quickly. When I used to work for Sen. John Vasconcellos, I cared little for campaigns and politicking. I wanted to help ordinary people. I tried
to cut through red tape for their daily concerns---taxes, disability benefits, unimployment insurance, military assignments, Medicaid payments, etc. That's what made me proud to work for him and to be doing some good for my community. Tomorrow nigh
t I need to help my uncle continue to move his office and junk 15 years of business knickknacks. I feel bad that he has had so little help. One of my old coworkers invited me to a party at her place this Saturday. Thalia and I had been classmates in
the same department at Berkeley. She's from Macau. Afterwards, we worked for the same company and saw each other every week. Now's getting her MBA and going more into management and business development, having travelled around Asia and Europe (recently
Vienna). It will be good to see her. Wonder if I'll bump into some old coworkers!
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