Dinner

Normally I drive a couple hours for Uber when I get outta work. Tonight I could not.

I'm a waiter. These regulars who always ask for me came in tonight. Of all the people I serve, this couple is among the only ones I'm genuinely happy to see.

I'm also a great actor.

A lengthy conversation usually ensues right before they are going to leave. This time was no different in that regard. The subject matter was though.

I don't know what brought it on exactly but I ended up telling them I had studied to be a priest for 7 years and I think from there the woman asked me about before and after, during. I said some of the things I normally never say to anyone, including something brief about what happened to me in the seminary and how I had been divorced now for 6 years and single for 4.

After this, she just looked at me wide-eyed and I could see the words jumping out of her mouth one after another like wild elephants that just could not be tamed. She said:

"Wow. How could you then be able to even be in a relationship being so broken?"

And her face immediately after saying this contorted, horrified at what she said; and she stared at the space between us like she was looking at some sort of gruesome phantom she had herself birthed.

I stared back, tears in my eyes, and replied, "I know."

Good Morning

I was sitting outside my son’s school for a second, like I always do after I drop him off to dodge the traffic in the morning which is always a cluster. It was raining.

While clearing LinkedIn notifications a white Mitsubishi to my left began to pull out of its parking space fast enough to kill a kid. It hit a car instead.

She - maroon Toyota SUV - had been honking heavily before that distinctive noise I knew so well; and now she was frantic, outside her car in the rain.

He came up to assess things, went back to his car, wrote down some shit, gave it to her and left. Like a dick. Her eyes upon his leaving were the same as mine. I shifted to park.

She stood there in the rain, holding the paper. I got out.

I told her I saw the whole thing, she asked if she should call the police, I said “yes.” While we were waiting she said, in a thick accent that I couldn’t tell was Indian or Hispanic, that her husband was going to be so mad at her. I told her it wasn’t her fault. He was a doctor at the hospital, she was a homemaker she said and was taking her teaching certification tests. Her daughter was also in first grade, but not my son’s class. Underneath all that nervousness I could tell she was very kind. She kept thanking me for staying. Told her I had been through it many times before.

I gave the cop the information he needed to know and he said I could go. As I pulled out slowly, I turned to look at the woman one more time, but she wasn’t looking over, so I could tell her with my eyes it was gonna be ok.

The Light

(From a Facebook post today.)

My son is special. I don’t mean that like most people do.

Yesterday I took him to our ice cream spot after we finished filming a scene from a movie I am in. I call him my agent. “I’ll pay you in ice cream” is our ongoing deal.

He always has an interesting story to tell me when we are together or long explanation of his Minecraft adventures and such and was in one as we got out of the car that caught my attention more than most of the rest.

Anyone who knows me knows that I consider him the best “thing” that ever “happened” to me, and my relationship with his mother not one of my greatest choices. Usually, I find, these things go together like that.

There have even been times where I have tried to explain everything to him, how life is with him and why it “had to be this way.” Each explanation is more elaborate but always lacking in some way.

“I saw you,” he said, “I saw you and my mom when you got married. I was there, watching you.”

Many times before he has asked where he was at this time, since he was born a year after the event.

Immediately when he said this my mind went back to that fateful day: standing on the altar waiting. And I felt a powerful feeling when he said those words. It was like a light- I remembered that moment: behind even the people who sit in the back in church at weddings there was a space my eyes were locked on where I felt a presence that kept me from running out of that church that day, even though I really didn’t otherwise want to be there. It was so powerful that I stayed.

Based on how I was at the time, he would not have been otherwise.

When he told me that, another version of myself may have told him “that’s not possible”; but instead, I felt it, and immediately hugged him from behind, and he, like he did as a toddler, nestled into me, and I buried my head in his hair and held my arms tightly around him; so he couldn’t see me cry.

The Mountain

From two Facebook posts:
September 18, 2019

4:22 PM

Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be in movies. I was always Brando, Dean, Pacino, DeNiro, Ford. I was all movies all the time.

Couple years ago I got a message from a good friend of mine asking me if I wanted to be in a Jeff Goldblum movie. She didn’t have to ask twice.

That day was like Christmas to me. I got to meet several actors I would later cast in my own film, and then was asked to not only background act, but stand-in for Tye Sheridan while they set the cameras.

In came Jeff, who sat right next to me, talking to Rick Alverson who I would a night or two later realize was an indie god. Jeff sat there, talking through his character’s backstory with, basically himself, twirling his fork, practicing his moves. I didn’t move a muscle.

I compare what I gleaned in that moment to what must be the knowledge one gains from a whole year of acting school. Once we were in full swing, everything ran like clockwork: every intonation and flinch was so perfect from both actors. I soaked it all in. It was surreal to say the least.

I might be in the movie for two seconds or not at all; but it was so worth it, an experience I will never forget.

The film went on to be selected at several big fests, garner mostly negative reviews from the general populous, as I had hoped; and after years of waiting, landing other small gigs, and finally- inspired by that experience- playing the lead in a film I helped make- tonight - I’m going to see it on the big screen.

11:20 PM

One of the greatest experiences of my life was seeing myself in a/that movie! Absolutely loved it! (Most won’t, that’s kinda the point.) Chilled with the lovely Liz Cameron, my scene co-star, after. We were on cloud nine that day and today. Just about as surreal as the film itself. Took this pic at 11:11. Everybody was gone so I did it myself.

Dreams

Met an old friend on Saturday for coffee. He had been in the seminary with me. It was good to talk to him. Most people can’t understand what happened to us in there. You always felt like you were being forced to stay. Told him I have PTSD. Told him I have dreams I’m still stuck there, feeling like I have to stay, though I want to leave. I forget I have a son in those dreams. It’s terrifying. He has two daughters now. He told me he has the dreams too. He’s the second who told me he has them. Before I wake up there’s always like a sharp pain, a stinging, like my mind is going to blow up inside of my head; and then I realize my son is alive and well, and sleeping somewhere not far away from me.

Many nights I cannot sleep but when I do.

Took me 7 years to get out; but I know I never really will.

VHS

(From a Facebook post from June 16, 2019)

When I was a kid my grandfather used to rent us Disney movies from Blockbuster and bring over a huge bag of buttered popcorn. For me those days were better than Christmas. Every Friday night my Dad would bring home a VHS tape from the library, usually an old Jimmy Stewart movie or somethin like that; and he’d make homemade popcorn on the stove. He taught us all how to do that the “secret” way. I would look forward to Fridays every night of the week. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be an actor, and I’d always be making skits with friends or telling stories and doing all the voices. I did some Shakespeare in high school and wrote and directed original plays in college. I also wrote a little for the producer of Braveheart, but not my own ideas. When I got out of university I continued to explore film and worshipped Pacino, DeNiro, and DiCaprio; and kept trying to get the guts together to write and star in my own film. I picked up minor roles in major films but nothing major. Life happened and my grandfather died in January. I had been sitting on a script I co-wrote with two talented writers from a writers’ group and I realized I only have one life to pursue my dream. The only hard thing my father ever told me was that I would never make movies. Today I had my son take these pictures of me. He tells me all the time how proud he is of his Dad. It’s been a dream of mine for him to see his father pursue his. Over the past 5 months becoming Chad Loos -the lead character in our film- I’ve lost 41 pounds and have gone to some pretty dark places that have made my entire life make sense. I wanna thank everyone for their patience and support- I will be forever grateful; and also those who doubted me- I couldn’t have done it without you. Some jackass producer fucked up the schedule, so we start filming tonight.

Find Me

My son got outta taking a long shower after we went swimming today, his favorite things to do. I was taking my course online when I saw this from my desk chair. I thought he was just tired but he said something I couldn’t hear so I crawled over like a daddy tiger like I do and buried my head in his neck, like I love. He said, “Dad, I was just thinking about how everybody dies,” and then his face broke while he said, “and I just want to stay the same age and you to stay the same age and we can always be together!” And I had to hide the fact that I broke right then and there. I took a moment to feel all that and said, “Puppy, when you were a baby you used to fall asleep on my shoulder, and I wished you never would grow up. But now that you are bigger we go hiking and we go to Starbucks together and we do go on more kinds of bentures together because you’re big; and we don’t even know what kind of bentures we will have together in the future so it’s exciting, you know. And I don’t know what happens when we die but I like to think that since we love each other so much we are gonna find each other.” And he said, “I wanna be buried right next to you so we can find each other.” I love him so goddamn much.

The Film

I decided to change coffee shops this morning. ‘Cause I wanted to check out one on the North Side I hadn’t in a while, and I needed a breath of fresh air.

Sitting here now.

My character in my film is from here. I wanted to absorb what I could. It was everything I wanted it to be and more. The coffee is good.


I let my mind wander. My brain was in its perfect creative state which includes altering from several outside means including a lack of sleep. I couldn’t stay in bed today even though I went to bed this morning I was too excited about my film.

And then it happened. Cars were passing uneventfully, which is the best kind of event for me; under a dim sky and wet street, which are the best sentimentally for a writer- when I saw a man, my age, baggy jeans and long red hoodie that somehow fit him perfectly around his starved face. He was walking slow, as I imagine is the only way one can walk when wearing pants like that. He was missing teeth which I could see ‘cause he was smiling. I saw a woman, overweight kind of all around, and following her, not holding anyone’s hands-which he was too young to not be doing- was a kid. Kid was wearing a hoodie like dad’s but pajama pants, like they were pickin’ him up from a babysitter somewhere in the neighborhood. That neighborhood. He couldn’t have been more than 2 or 3, 3 malnourished I was thinkin.’ But that was just me thinkin.’ He coulda been younger; his walk was still a little shaky. He hadn’t seen a bathtub in a hot minute.

His father had a clear bag fulla toys- bright primary colors, like they had picked those up when they had picked him up. And my mind went to all the places they coulda been while he was there. All those places.

They were lookin’ at him, smiling, sayin’ stuff I couldn’t hear, to get his attention, which they didn’t have.

The boy stopped by my window to bend down and pick up a stick- not more than a twig; and he held it up fascinated by it, like it was his new toy-of-the-moment, and like he was already used to entertaining himself all by himself.

My eyes were wide open. The glare on the glass probably made it so he didn’t even see me, and in a moment they were gone, though the scene left me shuddering from the chills that ran racecars through my veins for a long time after.

Some smooth classy jazz was playing in the background, as if that wasn’t already enough to do it me. The waitress brought me a refill without me even asking.

That’s the thing about being a writer, and especially a screenwriter, and a filmmaker at that- you watch great movies every goddamn day.

Ceiling

I had my ex-stepkids over tonight because I love them and I miss them a lot, and we don’t get time together on the reg. School is out this week anyway. Sleeping quarters become creative in these times: my daughter on the pull-out couch, her brother in my son’s bed, my 6 year-old in mine. I was forced to retire early due to circumstances, while I normally write my film or watch one til I nearly fall asleep right where I am.

I laid in bed for some time, my son breathing heavily beside me, something I honestly missed from when he was younger, and I stared at the blank ceiling; until suddenly I recalled something similar to this from long ago.

I remembered when I was a boy, not much older than my son, when I couldn’t sleep. We didn’t have mobile phones or even television in every room. We had a small black & white in the family room my grandfather gave to us. There were 4 or 5 channels. We didn’t have VHS yet either. When I couldn’t sleep I’d stay up looking at the ceiling playing out the stories of Robin Hood or the heroes of old whose tales I knew somewhat from those who’d told me. And I’d insert myself in them, dreaming of the day when I’d grow from being just a boy to be a real hero like them.

And suddenly I felt a great shiver travel through me, as if I could feel the younger version of myself look at me through time, and all those decades were divided only by the ceiling, and the boy I was was looking at me from then. And all the stories of the heroes faded back into the corners of his room til all he saw was me. And I wondered how I measured up.

Rises

I passed a couple bar-hopping, unintentionally making them hop to one side. The Under Armor fit better now, having lost so much weight for my film. I ran the usual route: passed Clinton Square where I had saved that woman being attacked by a gang; up Adams Street, where I had rescued that family stalled in the middle of the intersection. I ran by Golisano and pointed to the children’s windows as I always had, in case one of those poor kids couldn’t sleep from the chemo and happened to glance outside to see me. A couple leaving Crouse let me pass first. I didn’t argue with them, seeing that that would scare them further. I was wearing the mask I wear in winter, because in many ways in Syracuse it still was; although the emblem on my chest was something that should only scare bad people. Maybe they just had guilty consciences. It seemed that they had forgotten me: a symbol of hope. A college student held out a twenty dollar bill to me as I ran by. “Did you drop this?” he asked, frantically. I motioned to him- “no.” The road sweeper stopped to watch me sprint the “Rocky stairs” behind Newhouse that led to the Dome; he circled back to see me looking out over the city. I had missed this. All those nights driving through the outskirts had kept me away - until now - I was back in Gotham.

Quarter

Stopped at Aldi’s near my house to pick up groceries on my way home from work. Had on my black leather jacket and food stains on my black work pants.

I saw a couple of suits walking around, not shopping, while I was there. I’m not dumb. I asked the cashier: she said one of them was the president of the company.

They all were retreating into a locked room as I was leaving; but I had the urge to talk to him, for a moment, about the sales company I have. An account like this would make me rich almost overnight.


But I didn’t go to the door. Instead I left, and then driving towards my apartment, I turned my car around and went back to the store.

I walked right up to him. He was tall and obviously the one by the way he carried himself. His haircut was off though.

I shook his hand and handed him the quarter I used for the shopping cart.

“Thank you,” I said. I told him how I had been through hard times and I was always able to take care of my son coming here. Told him I had just come from work and I pitched him my business on the spot.

He replied in typical dick fashion and gave me back the quarter with a quick smile.

I walked out to my car, flipping the coin, feeling the blood pulse through my arm like it never had. When I got home I taped it to my wall.

I feel like I got somethin’ better than all the money I woulda got if I had landed that long-shot deal: I knew I wasn’t afraid of anything.

Sam Cooke

Had an hour to kill, my 9:15 moved to 10, so I went to the mall to get coffee ‘cause it was close by. It’s not my normal thing.

The barista was 3 or 4 generations after when I had come here a lot. Met my son’s mother here. I always tell him that - upbeat - ‘cause I want it to be a good thing he remembers. Maybe that’s why I don’t do this anymore.

Thought I’d kill some time walking, had my headphones in playing Sam Cooke. I was dressed in my only suit and looked amazing. A gay shop keeper passed me like I passed hot girls in school.

Those are the only people here in the mornings: people who work here and mall walkers, and gym rats who I observed piling in the side entrance like they were late in all sorts of ill-fitting spandex.

Some of the mall walkers were already sitting in their VFW groups. They all had coffee from a different shop. They talked and laughed; they looked alive, they looked happy.

Others were struggling to do the required miles as I passed them, dressed in the latest elderly wear. Lots of couples, no one walking next to the other just in close proximity.

I love this mall.

I chose to walk the old mall. It’s the smell really, the combined caramel corn with perfume stench that brings back all that childhood wonder. I don’t remember anything in particular, I just remember how I felt.

The coffee’s hot.

Got offered an audition for another movie last night. I stepped a little quicker and stood up straighter. I was different now. Shot my student film here with my brothers Dre and Drew. I buy Dre a business license today. Shooting that film was one of the best days of my life. Top 5.

I played Sam Cooke’s “Change Is Gonna Come” on purpose. Last time I was here I played “Chain Gang.”

I was different now: I wasn’t walkin’ in circles anymore; I was going somewhere.

Drive

Drove this lady in her 40’s. It was late. Picked her up at one of the lesser-knowns on Tipp Hill. I could tell she was distraught as soon as she got in my car. There’s an air about people I can sense from a mile away.

I was playing Kanye that I didn’t like too loud and she asked me to turn it down. She was on the phone. I heard “they didn’t tell me why he was in timeout!” and “would you let them spend the night there?”

She set the wrong destination and was mad when I went where it said, but I let her be.

I pulled in and she asked me to wait. About two minutes later she was back with two little girls. One might have been 5, the other in her arms asleep maybe 3. I didn’t get a good look.

I helped her fix things on her phone after we hastily left the driveway. An older lady followed the car most of the way down.

I switched the music to Moby’s ambients which made the car just glide over the black and orange pavement. A very gentle snow was falling now.

The older daughter asked the mother, “Why did we have to leave Ra’s?” and without missing a beat she responded “we’re doing something tomorrow.”

The younger daughter woke up suddenly, gasping as if from a nightmare. She sighed right after, realizing she was in her mother’s arms, and fell back asleep.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” asked the older one.

“Going to church,” said the mother.

“You said we could skip it,” said the child.

“Not anymore,” she said.

I wrote this on a piece of paper weeks ago and put it in my desk

By Joe Cunningham






I wrote this on a piece of paper weeks ago and put it in my desk.
It’s still there.
I’m doing this from memory.

All of this seems like ancient history.



I don’t know why I’m writing this. It’s burning a hole in my desk, I suppose.
I’m doing better now. I don’t think about this stuff as much.
I got the lead in a movie. My business is doing good.
I decided to be positive. It worked.



I fixed a lot of things recently.
After my grandfather died I realized life’s too short not to.
He was somethin else. He was the real thing.



To my son, Harrison: I love you.

I love you more than anything.
When you read this someday and understand
I want you to know I’m sorry for all the times you saw me fall down because of this shit.
When all the veins came out of my head and I had to look away from you.
I’m hiding it all real good now.
I hope you never see that again.
I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.







To [NAME]:
You were in 6th grade when I was in kindergarten and I know now you didn’t know what you were doing but I didn’t know either and now I do.

To whatever the fuck your name is:
I’ve been in that kitchen for half my life.
I just got out.
I know you probly don’t remember.
Your husband does.
I hate you.
Maybe you could describe to my ex-girlfriends what you did to me.
I know I couldn’t.
I know you probly couldn’t either.
You’re the reason I didn’t drink alcohol for a long time.



To that piece of shit rotting somewhere in Mexico:
I hope you’re in the bottom of that place you told us about,
Along with everyone that knew.






To the priest in Dublin:
Fuck you, man.
You’re just slime.

To the one we saw a lot more:
If I ever see you again it will be the last time.



To my sister Katie:
I fucking hate you for what you did to Ben.
He was like a son to me.
I know you’ll never understand what it feels like to look at you from where I’ve been.
I see you in them.
I wish I had been there instead of in that concentration camp for all those years.
Shit woulda played out differently.
I don’t care how sorry you are.



I forgave a lot of people that hurt me recently,
None of you made the list.
You’re not entitled to be on it.
If there’s a god who can forgive you for that there’s somethin wrong with him.



To that fucker in Thornwood:
It took me a long time to figure that shit out.
I figured it out.
I’m ok now.

To my extended family:
I love you.
I don’t think you’re ever gonna understand that you're never gonna understand me.
And all the bullshit is bullshit.




To all the people who thought they knew me when:
I’m never gonna be who you wanted me to be.
I’m ok with that.
It’s time for you to be.

I'm fucking amazing anyways.

To all the haters:
Go do somethin.




To my parents:
I love you so much. 

And I appreciate what you did for us.
But I hate you for what you did to us,
And I hate you more because you will never understand because you hold onto your beliefs like they are more important than we are.
I don’t expect you to ever understand.
I decided not to try anymore. In that regard.

You can read my book when it is done.
It’s called Let Me Down Gently.
My movie is an analogy.
I love you though.








To my friends:
I’m sorry I was gone for so long.
I’m back.

To my brothers and Llazmin:
Same.

To Lucy:
Don’t be like them.
I know that’s not gonna stop you.

To Haylee and Hayden:
I never cheated on your mom.
I will always love you but it’s better this way.

I hope you understand.

To Michelle:
I know what you did.
I don’t ever wanna see you again.




To [NameLastname]:
I understand now.
I’m sorry it took me so long.
This is why.
I’m ok now.
I know you are too.

To the girl I’m gonna be with:
You just gotta give me a second sometimes;
I’ll be alright, I promise.
Just hug me and don’t ask me why.
I promise I’ll do the same.


I'm Batman.

To Kevin:
I will always feel what you are feeling.

To Drew:
I love you.
Don’t ever doubt it.
That’s why I wrote it.

To Johnny Allen:
I know what happened to you in that field.
I was there.
I been there many times since you died there.

To Brian:
I know everything.

The blood is rushing through my body I can’t even move.

I’m running mountains again.
Fuck, it feels good.

I can see all the beautiful things now.





Hemingway said “write one true thing.”
I wrote more than one.
But if I had to pick just one it’d be
For me to say to all my shadows-

“You will never beat me,
You will never beat me.”