One time when I was an addictions therapist in Philadelphia, I found a pill in the pocket of the pants that I wore to work. I stared at it in the palm of my hand, wondering what it was and what I should do with it. How had it gotten there? I didn’t tell anyone. I went home and Googled it. The little digital images sparked neurological firings in my brain, telling of pleasures unknown. Percocet. Percocet. I imagined a patient slipping it into my pocket as a sort of test. I saw dozens of patients every day, ran groups of twenty and sometimes thirty, and there was no way of knowing which one had put it there. I had never taken a Percocet before, don’t think I’d even seen one. I swallowed it and didn’t feel any differently. Pills don’t do much for me. Except for Adderrall. Ah, Adderral. Another time, I found a Tylenol 3 on the bathroom floor. I picked it up, gawked at it. I went to the clinical leader who I was working under and asked her what to do with it. She laughed and said, “Take it”.
Another movie idea (WALPURGISNACHT): a summer camp horror movie. Ties in elements of witchcraft, Pennsylvania Dutch/PA German mythology, sociopathic children, underage lesbianism, underage homosexual and heterosexual fucking, the power of the group to mold and manipulate,
One more movie idea: LET’S KILL EVERYONE. Let’s call it FUGATE.