Latest Article|September 3, 2020|Free
::Making Grown Men Cry Since 1992
1 min read
I am marching single file with a platoon of soldiers. We are on our way to a military operation. We reach a precariously teetering building made of plush foam and velour. We scale its soft facade, clawing into the sides, and vault into a 3rd story office room, where we immediately launch into our primary mission, which is to write a screenplay. A storm is approaching.Over evening cocktails, I describe to my friends the adventures I’ve had that afternoon in a rented hovercraft.