fights between friends

one lost in the patriarchy
defending the indefensible
joking about what's not funny
the other fighting to end
what casual people joke about
that cuts deep into
the soul of those of us
not granted power

to a head
help to understand
but walls do not come down
in 24 hours
and minds are not changed
by one exchange
on facebook

Rape jokes are not funny. Street harassment is not flattering. In case anyone was wondering.

scene about a dead friend

1

we used her. To make money. Not the most inconsequential thing in the world, but wouldn’t it be nice if it was?

2

how?

1

what?

2

how did you use her to make money?

1

"Someone’s died! Donate! Make her life mean more! Makes yours mean more in the process!" Not the most original formula.

2

and you split the money?

1

no. donated. To whatever charity was helping to cure her illness.

2

then not really a con.

1

no? Then why weren’t we doing it before? ‘how could we have known? Now we are doing our little part because we know, because we can.’ We could have done something before. Not necessarily that specifically. But we didn’t raise money. Volunteer. Nothing. And after the diagnosis, we did. For one moment in time we pretended to look outside of ourselves, think about someone else. Weren’t we just salving our own pain? I know. It’s not a bad thing to do, but recognition is important: it was never about her. Even when she died – when we found out she had died – we didn’t repeat the altruistic exercise. Once was quite enough to absolve ourselves from a deeper part of hell. Why? Why didn’t we think to do it again? It’s not like it would have been an original thought/idea? But we couldn’t even make that jump. I couldn’t. but then the face stares back at me again and I think it. More more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more. Just something. Just something. Something beyond this nothing. Beyond the forgetfulness. I want to take back the forgetfulness. Slate clean. No. slate was already clean. What do I mean?

2

see her again?

1

no. it’s not that. I mean she didn’t call us either… Maybe her forgiveness? But it’s not that either.



I want to have not just let her go. I want to have fought. Why didn’t I fight for her? Even to just see her one more time? Why did I let her go? Why did I just let her go?

This scene is from the script I was working on about my friend in college that passed away. It's not finished, mostly because I have a hard time finishing things (from Writer ADD rather than block).