the script about the truck driving poet in LA
the script about the truck driving poet in LA
INT/EXT. 110 NORTH - TRUCK - DAY.
Northbound
pointed towards downtown
he sits in a truck
in traffic
at the Rosecrans ramp,
he wonders if
it would be better to know
the exact time of your death
or if it would bring more bliss
to be walking through a crosswalk
while the pedestrian signal is on stop
and be struck
by a truck.
You could call them
hallucinations,
premonitions,
or even the one dream
with the precognition,
but the difference
for him
was that he couldn’t remember
if he
was asleep
or awake,
because when
tomorrow, last year, and today
begin to look the same,
time
becomes
insane.
Misconceptions of his mind,
paired with the countdown of a clock,
left him with a choice to make.
INT/EXT. OFF RAMP OF THE 110 NORTH -
ON RAMP ONTO THE 105 WEST - TRUCK - DAY.
To see
a man on TV,
the internet,
and the radio
changing the world
by living his dream
to take away the trade
that your family
has made its living
working
gave him a timeline
in which had no choice
but to act.
INT/EXT. 105 WEST -
APPROACHING CRENSHAW OFF RAMP -
TRUCK - DAY.
A digital billboard:
24 HOURS TO A SAFER LA:
TOMORROW THE FUTURE
IS TRUCK DRIVER ERROR FREE!
To him
it seemed just like yesterday
that he had moved away,
home
an hour north of Bakersfield,
a three
and half hour drive
from LA;
the California
of his youth
was one
that he had not seen in years,
but in his mind
it was as clear
as the morning sky
in front of his windshield.
You see
a poet's world
comes about
when the past, present, and future
become one thing,
written in an omniscient voice,
he’s allowed to see
both inside his head and yours,
which when done properly,
or better yet,
in the proper mental health,
can be quite the sight
to see;
but
if you don’t know your history,
you’re doomed to repeat it;
and he knew that phrase,
but knowing
and practicing
are two different things,
and leaving boxes unchecked
on health questionnaires
that would make the hairs
on the back of your neck stand up
are better left unsaid, right?
Panning out on the scene
he saw himself
from a birds eye view,
a narrative direction
that contained his life
on only one trajectory,
and to him
making the left hand turn onto Crenshaw
in a 53’ tractor trailer
we
were only another car
in his way.