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"Seventy Times Seven"
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Topic Started: Sep 19 2017, 12:16 AM (62 Views)
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SaviourSelf
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Sep 19 2017, 12:16 AM
Post #1
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Seasoned Professional
- Posts:
- 1,671
- Group:
- Moderators
- Member
- #607
- Joined:
- March 2, 2009
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-The scene opens to a porch in Ocean City, New Jersey. It's an 80 degree day, and as we pan around we see Alex LeBlanc relaxing in a pair of Nike shorts, some AirMax shoes and a white t-shirt from the 7th Street Surf Shop. In his hand is a monogrammed mug that reads "SBC" and as Alex drinks his coffee, he notices, takes a second to read the monogram and laughs a bit. The words, "She absolutely would" leaving his lips, Alex leans back into the wicker chair a bit enjoying the early morning bustle of the owner of the home's oceanfront hometown. -
-Truth be told, if Alex threw a rock from the steps of 617 Central Ave, he could probably hit the door of "Pappagallos" on Asbury Avenue. If he really put some oomph into it, maybe he'd hit the Sturdy Savings Bank on the far corner. If he's lucky and there's a gust of wind, maybe he nails the Boardwalk right by Browns Doughnuts and spooks one of the groms who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to surf. It's not his town, never will be, and he'll never be the "Fighting Pride of the Oceanside" or the "Patron Saint of St. Charles Place", but sitting there on the feisty brunette's porch, Alex is relaxed and not worrying so much about the stressors of work, but more so contemplative about his work, his ambitions and the future of it all; one eye on the past so that he can take one step toward the future.-
Alex: There's a bible verse out there, Matthew 18:22. I know, you all are wondering what a Jew is doing reading Bible verses, but I'm a bit of an armchair theologian, and there's a point here. In the passage, Peter asks Jesus, concerned and in a desire for answers just how many times he must forgive his brother who has sinned against him. In his infinite wisdom, Jesus tells him not to forgive him once, twice, or even seven times. He tells him to forgive him "seventy times seven". The idea always stuck with me, and I've always tried to apply it somewhat, with mixed results.
-Alex takes another sip from the coffee and then reaches for a cigarette still burning on an ash tray and takes a small drag. It's going to kill him eventually, but for right now, that's a battle for another day.-
Alex: It really is all about forgiveness, and I could sit here and wax poetic about all the times that PRW has failed me, how I should ask for 8 PRW executives to be my pallbearers when I die so they can let me down one last time, but the honest truth of it is that I was wrong in a sense when I said "Nobody cares". PRW doesn't care, that's a fact. But there's still those that do care. I make her life hell, she's tall and has too much on her plate, but she cares.
We have a man who grew up in Staten Island idolizing people like Bobby Heenan while getting regaled with stories about Pedro Morales and Bob Backlund. I'm pretty sure he cares too.
It becomes easy to get bitter and focus on the failings rather than the support you receive in this business. However, with all my laments and all my gripes, I've learned to forgive because quite honestly? I've hurt and burned and lacked the right amount of care for those who are actually invested in me from more than a financial sense. My only defense for that is that it's hard to break habits and view certain people beyond their job title sometimes. In that sense, I guess it can be said I failed my...friend.
-Alex stops and the pause is poignant. It's a moment of realization for the GOAT/TBE, and he embraces it, taking another slow drag to compose his thoughts. -
Alex: I got questioned the other day by Vicki whether I still write letters to my mother, and the fact is I don't anymore, because instead of my mother, I now write letters to my child, with my hopes and dreams for him going forward, and how ultimately my hope is for betterment, and my feeling is one of apology for bringing him into a dying planet.
My letters have shifted their tone, and they lack the fire and the brimstone that would once cast a scorched earth across the land and now read like those of a man who lost his spark and is looking for the tinder to ignite the flame in a still-beating heart.
You see folks, nowadays my canvas is no longer a wrestling ring, but the inner workings of my soul, a canvas that needs to be repaired, a painting that I left unfinished for too long, one with scratches and rips, with droplets of paint that don't belong and it's my hope and dream that out of the emotion and the passion from which I am know for ...I can become a metaphorical Jackson Pollack and finally put it all together.
-Alex sighs and his hand shakes a bit, but he steadies himself with the coffee.-
Alex: And ultimately, I don't know whether this is the realest shit I've ever spoken, but know that the realest man ever spoke it.
As performers, artists, and creatives, we put up a wall because it's the only way that we survive and make it through the grind. It's always been my gift and my curse that I've always pulled back the curtain and exposed the inner workings of what I create, pull myself open and rip myself open at the seams so that you can see what makes me hurt, what makes me smile and makes me bleed.
Maybe, I lay awake at night and regret all the Marilyn Monroes and wish that I would have taken the Susan B. Anthony or the Amelia Earhardt to be my bride. Maybe there's parts of me that wish I could do it all over again and that maybe she wasn't the right girl, and I should have put a ring on one of them "I like art" -type of girls, if that makes sense.
-Alex bites his lip and nods, not done yet.-
Alex: Do you know how many kids wear the over-wrought and overpriced merchandise that gets hawked with my name on it? None of them. Do you know how many of those kids can recite lines from my works, my speeches and my heart being spilled on these digital recordings for you, for the masses? All of them.
These kids are waiting, they're waiting for the man who would walk into an arena and with a microphone take you on a journey where he would make you believe and render your belief into a hope that you could spin into solid gold and validate. They're waiting for the man whose path to success was THEIR redemption song and a blueprint for what dreams are achieveable. They're waiting for a man who through time and perseverance was able to make a diamond with his own bare hands. They're waiting for Alex LeBlanc and the truth is he's been gone for way too fucking long.
-Alex stops, steadies himself and brings a fist to his chest, thumping it against his breast. He clasps as if grabbing at something, then throws his hand outwardly, opening his hand in the process.-
Alex: It's yours. It always has been. I'm sorry I kept you waiting.
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- 4x PRW Undisputed Champion - 2x World Tag Team Champion - 8x Cyanide Champion - PRW Intercontinental Champion - PRW Triple Crown Champion - PRW Grand Slam Champion - PRW Hall of Famer
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