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notagamersdey · 4 years ago

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The Dream

Painting by: Henri Rousseau

Photo (2021) and Story By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: bad language, panic attacks

A/N: So this story is inspired by the Pedro Pascal episode of the podcast Talk Art (31:14-34:15). Go check that out if you want to hear some fun stories by the hosts and pp.

Summary: Matias, after losing his chance to act in a popular TV show, is taken to the Museum of Modern Art by his sister where he realizes he has nothing to lose.

~~~

Today, I’m supposed to meet my sister Lyanna here at East Village Pizza. She said it was a special treat for getting my first “big” role on Law & Order. When I told her the news, she had jumped up for joy, squealing my ear off. It wasn’t a big deal, just another job for the bills, but she was adamant that this job was a life changer. She’s says that about every job.

I came to the pizza parlor early, grabbing my favorite seat in front of the window. We normally sat here when we came because it gave us the perfect view of cold, angry New Yorkers. I had ordered our pizza, waiting for her to arrive when my phone starts to buzz.

I open it up and put it against my ear, holding it with my shoulder, “This is Matias.”

“Matias, I'm sorry to tell you…” Fuck, “…but we’ve decided to go in a different direction...” It’s the fucking casting director, droning on, saying those same fucking words, “You have wonderful talent.,” “You didn’t fit the director's vision.,” etcetera. Etcetera. ETCETERA. It's all movie-talk for “You weren't good enough.”

Grabbing the scruff behind my neck, I slammed my phone shut and stuffing it into my jacket pocket. What the hell was I going to do now? Three hundred bucks – gone in an instant.

“Here’s your order, Sir,” A waiter places the small pizza in front of me, and you know, today was one of the rare days I was able to scrounge enough money to afford the luxury of a decent slice of pizza, and now I can’t even enjoy it.

“God dammit,” It’s moments like these when memories of my father came hit me like a freight train. He used to berate me about goals and aspirations, telling me, “It’s never going to happen, Matias,” and “It’s not a job. You won’t get anywhere with that.” In high school, I used to constantly fight with him, telling him my dreams were achievable. That I would succeed as an actor. He would laugh in my face; tell me they were unobtainable. I mean... Maybe he was right.

Now, I’m living in one of the most expensive cities with over 300,000 dollars in debt, 40 bucks to my name, and a dead-beat waiter job at Planet Hollywood that barely pays for food let alone the bills. I have no back-up plan, no emergency fund. I just had my bachelor's degree in acting, which won't pay for shit.

I shake my head. My neck and back start to ache, an oncoming migraine sitting on my temples.

Matias, the fuck do you want to do that for?

Matias, you’re not good enough.

Matias, you will always be alone.

I stand to leave, throwing the untouched pizza in the trash on my way out the door. The cold winter air bites at my nose when I step outside. I pull my scarf up closer to my neck and make my way down East 9th Street.

Leaving the restaurant doesn’t help. Hopelessness rushes over me like a tsunami. The texture of the wool sweater underneath my jacket scratched annoyingly at the exposed skin on my wrists. It’s a cold wintery day but I feel incredibly hot underneath the layers. A nervous sweat builds underneath my beanie. Everyone’s staring, I know it. They know I've failed yet again. They know I’m just a naïve child.

His voice repeats in my head like a tornado siren, yelling, screaming at me, “You will not survive.”

You will not make an income.

You will not have healthcare.

You are setting yourself up for failure.

…You will die- My phone starts to buzz again. I really want to fucking ignore it but if it’s Lyanna, she’d have every cop in the city on my ass within the hour.

“Hey.” I cough, trying to clear my throat. Act normal.

“Mat! I’m sorry I’m late, I’m-” She sounds like she’s running.

“Actually, Sis, I left…” I stop in the middle of the pavement, getting shoved and cursed at by the impetuous crowd around me.

“What? Why?” Her concerned voice seeps through the phone. Suddenly, heat shoots up my back. She’s going to be upset.

I move off to the side, leaning up against a wall of graffiti, “I didn’t get the job after all.”

I hear her let out a breath, “Different direction?” She asks, knowingly.

I nod, “Yea... said I could act the part, but I didn’t fit the type of Latino they were going for... whatever the hell that means.” I spit out, bitterly.

“Means they’re bigoted.” I can hear the annoyed twinge in her voice.

“Yea... probably...” Lyanna stays quiet. “Hey... So, I’m not really up for doing anything... Can we just go home?”

“Umm...” She hums, clicking her tongue, “No.”

“Lyanna...” Please.

“No, no, I’m serious, I know you. Once you get home you're going to sulk in your room for days. Let's bypass the self-pity and go have fun. Take your mind off it.”

I’m silent for a moment, feeling my anxiety subside as I focus on her words, “What do I get if your wrong?”

“A fresh slice of cheese pizza to replace the one you probably threw away...” She laughs, “Now, how ‘bout MoMA?”

“Sure… MoMA sounds good.”

I’ve always found it difficult to find the Museum of Modern Art. The only way anyone would be able to tell where this museum was is with the three bright red banners hanging off the side of the building holding their acronym in an even darker shade of red. This was basically every building in New York so, of course, I pass right by it. Lyanna managed to catch me before I got too far. She runs up to me and immediately linked her arm into mine.

“Hey stranger, took you long enough.” She greats, warmly.

“You know how it is.”

“Oh common, where’s that smile? We are celebrating!” She starts to pull me into the museum, warm air painting my face when she opens one of the doors.

“Celebrating a failure.”

“Celebrating life.”

We walk in and are bombarded with hordes of people packed in front of every corner of the room. It's as if every single person visiting New York had decided that they would all collectively visit the museum on this specific day. Maybe they were having an event. People of all shapes and sizes were packed in front of each art piece, creating a thick barrier preventing outsiders from looking in on their beauty. In the corner of the room is a balloon man handing out replicas of Jeff Koon’s Balloon Dog to children. I clench my teeth at the disgusting sound of rubber and latex rubbing together. I feel a hot prickling in my neck at the sight of a child squeezing the neck of their bright metallic green Balloon Dog, another child on the edge of crying as she violently hit her blue Balloon Dog onto her stroller seat.

Someone bumps into me. I feel myself tense up. Don’t touch me. I take my arms away from Lyanna, hiding them in my pockets. Lyanna looks up at me, “Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck no,“Yes.”

“You sure? You seem tense,” she raises her eyebrow.

“No. No... I'm good... There’s just.” Act normal, “A lot of people.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Everyone is breathing my air - of course I’m not sure. “You wanna start off this way then make our way around?” she asks pointing to her left. I nod.

She guides me to the fifth floor, to our first painting. Shes pushing through the crowds so we could get a closer look. It’s a dark painting with a black, shadowy silhouette of an elephant trudging on an upwards incline. The air around him grey, as if he was pushing through a sandstorm. He is struggling to get to wherever he was headed. I’m suddenly pushed closer to the struggling elephant. Lyanna snaps at someone behind me. A balloon pop’s. A child's scream echo around the room. The dark clouds surrounding the elephant fill my edge of my vision as my eyes zoom into the lonely elephant. My throat begins to close. My heart hurts. A voice in my head whispers “You’re dying. You’re dying.” in a joyous chant. I try to breathe but nothing can get through. My hands prickle. My chest stutters. The elephant fades. Only the shadowing and silhouettes of people fill my vision. I still feel the pain in my throat, as I try to breath in air.

Lyanna speaks but her voice is muffled. The darkness that had overtaken my vision slowly fades away. I sit up straight, feeling the soft leather beneath me, becoming aware of my surroundings. We are in different exhibit. It's completely empty. I shift, feeling the leather bench beneath my finger tips. The silence is soothing.

“You feeling better?” Lyanna sits next to me with a cup of water in her hands, causing the leather beneath creaked.

I close my eyes. God. She grabs at my hand but I pull away. Please go away. I can feel her eyes burning into my soul. It’s unbearable. I turn away from her. Please go away. She grips at the cup tightly. The crunch of the cup is excruciating.

“Matias.” She attempts to grab my hand again. I see it coming from a mile away. Like in slow motion. The closer she got, the more I dreaded the contact.

“Fuck! Stop! Can you please just give me a God damn minute?” I stand up trying to get away.

“What is happening?” She’s mad. You’ve ruined everything.

“I don’t want to be fucking touched, Lyanna. Just stop. Stop everything. Leave me alone.” I’m staring at the floor. If I look at her, I’m going to lose it. Shameful. Embarrassing.

“I’m only trying to help.” You’re an embarrassment.

“You’re not!” She’s going to never going to forgive you.

“Okay…” She stands slowly, “Let’s relax for a moment… I’ll be back in a few minutes… Just text me if you need anything.” I don’t say anything while she walks away, the sound of her shoes fading. I sit back down onto the chair, head in my hands.

I take a few deep breaths, focusing on the ground beneath me. The floor is smooth, my hair is soft and messy, the pressure of my elbows on my knees grow. My eyes leave the floor only to be met with a flood of green. A naked woman waking up on a large red couch in the middle of a jungle. Light green paints the leaves towards the bottom of the canvas and becomes darker going up towards the sky. The bright flowers burst up in different directions as the moon peaks through the canopy. The woman is surrounded by hidden animals. I spot a few hidden tigers, a white bird on the top left, a person hidden in the shadows playing an instrument, a few monkeys in the trees and an elephant beyond the trees staring back at me. It was a paradise. So sure of herself, she sits there facing away from me as if she has nothing to lose. She sits unafraid of the world around her.

I can’t relate. I’ll never get my chance. I’ll never not be afraid. I continue to stare at her, trying to understand what she may have done differently. Maybe she kept going. Maybe she stopped caring. Or maybe someone gave her a chance. Whatever she did must’ve worked because she continues to sit as if she has nothing left to lose –

“Henri Rousseau’s The Dream,” I jump. Lyanna stands on my right, staring at the painting with a hand on her hip, “Most people hate this painting.”

“I don’t see why…”

“Eh… Everybody has their own opinions…” She approaches cautiously, “Do you feel any better?”

I nod. “S-sorry,” I look back to the painting, “I just needed a moment to myself.”

“Don’t apologize… I should’ve… I don’t know, been more mindful, I guess.” She sits down next to me. I can see her hesitate before she puts a hand on my shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?”

I don’t answer at first. I look back at the painting. The Dream she called it. Maybe, this was the woman’s dream. Maybe she is like me. Our chances will arise. She strives towards her peace with nature around her as I strive for success in the asphalt jungle. Just as she has nothing left to lose, I, too, have nothing to lose. We are the same.

“Yea… I think I will be.”

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! Let me know if I missed a tag or a warning.

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Till Next Time!

-Dey

#my writing #short story #short fiction #inspiration #talk art #henri rousseau #The Dream #Pedro Pascal #tw panic attack #Museum of Modern Art #I could taste the pizza #new york #original writing #original story #original fiction

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garancefranke-ruta · 7 years ago

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Resistance activists look past Trump’s State of the Union speech to November

Andra Day, and Common perform their Grammy and Oscar-nominated song “Stand Up for Something” from the movie Marshall. At “The People’s State Of The Union” at The Town Hall theater in New York City, NY, on Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Cheriss May/NurPhoto)

“Social justice cocktails! Ice-cold water! You can’t have revolution without cold water!”

Mike, a refreshments vendor at the Town Hall theater in midtown Manhattan who declined to give a last name, tailored his pitch to the crowd Monday evening as he hawked water at $5 a bottle.

It was 24 hours before President Trump’s first State of the Union speech in Washington, and a mixture of well-heeled New Yorkers, boldface names, service and domestic workers, college students and activists had come out on a cold night for an event billed as the People’s State of the Union. Trump’s impending speech was the nominal occasion, but the event — which drew 500,000 views on a Facebook live stream that evening — was also a way for resistance movement activists to recharge for the coming struggle.

A broad array of social justice groups, backed by celebrity star power, had come together for three hours of speeches and music, hoping to buck up their spirits after a rough and tiring year — and looking ahead to the challenge of organizing to capture a majority in the House of Representatives and hundreds or even 1,000 additional state legislative seats this year.

Actor John Leguizamo speaks during the “People’s State of the Union” event at The Town Hall, in New York City, Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Darren Ornitz/Reuters)

“In 2018, with so many races fast approaching, it is vital that we work to elect progressive, diverse candidates for Congress and state legislatures across this country. But it is not just about voting — not anymore. Given the current state of the Union, fighting for our democracy is going to require all of us, everyday people, to step up and take action,” said actress Cynthia Nixon, who spoke from the New York stage in a lineup that also featured John Leguizamo, Mark Ruffalo, Lee Daniels, Amy Schumer, Wanda Sykes, Kathy Najimy and Michael Moore, with musical appearances by Rufus Wainwright, Andra Day and Common.

“In 2018 each one of us has to do everything we can to reclaim our democracy from foreign and domestic threats that aim to imperil it. It is on us. There is no cavalry coming. We are the cavalry,” she continued, to applause.

More than anything new Trump said, or was likely to say, the State of the Union was for the resistance activist groups an opportunity to rally the troops, boost morale and point to the future. In Washington, Planned Parenthood and an array of women’s groups counterprogrammed against the president’s speech Tuesday night with a program of music and speeches at the National Press Club under the rubric “The State of Our Union.” It was the first time the organization hosted an event during a State of the Union, talking to supporters over the background distractions of the speech as it unfurled on social media. And there too the byword was 2018.

Mark Ruffalo speaks at “The People’s State Of The Union” at The Town Hall theater in New York City, NY, on Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Cheriss May/NurPhoto)

“We are laser-focused on winning a pro-women’s health majority in Congress. Laser-focused. I dream about it at night. I wake up thinking about it in the morning. I think about nothing else,” Deirdre Schifeling, executive director of Planned Parenthood Action Fund, told Yahoo News. “And at state level. It’s long overdue, and 2018 is our chance to do it.”

From the very beginnings of the resistance movement, it has sought to unite many different streams into a common cause of fighting back against Trump and Republican control of Congress. But the events this week around the State of the Union, a cacophony of online resistance movement speeches and live streams, showcased the progress that has been made in forging a unified front.

Across a year of marches and protests and grassroots get-out-the-vote efforts, the leaders of different groups have gotten to know each other. There have been Slack channels and conference calls and after-action working groups, endless call-your-congressman drives and letter-writing campaigns and difficult conversations about whose voices should lead. Celebrities who once made star turns at activist events and did a little fundraising have become activists inside their own industries, backed by the support of the new women’s movement and using their stardom to spotlight it. Minority rights groups that existed before Trump was elected — groups fighting police violence against African-Americans, the deportation of undocumented Latin American immigrants brought to America as children, and for LGBTQ rights — have been become a key part of the larger movement that has sprung up since the election, merging with the growing river of women’s activist groups and newly formed efforts to defend refugees and religious minorities.

“I think the most powerful thing that’s come from all the attacks that many of our communities are under is the strong unity that I feel … in my bones today,” said Christina Jimenez, executive director of United We Dream, the immigrant youth network, from the stage in New York. “I know that the state of our union — this union — all of these social justice movements coming together — is stronger than ever. And that’s what scares them.”

“Are you ready to hit the polls?” she cried, to cheers.

Christina Jimenez (C), co-founder of United We Dream, raises her fist alongside other so-called Dreamers at the “People’s State of the Union” event one day ahead of President Trump’s State of The Union Speech to Congress, in New York City, Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Darren Ornitz/Reuters)

“There is no more important day this year” than Nov. 6, said filmmaker Moore in New York. “Not your birthday. Not your wedding anniversary. Not flag day. … My friends, as much as I tried to warn the country that Trump was going to win by winning those four states, I am here tonight to tell you that I believe that we can accomplish this by a tsunami of voters overwhelming the polling places on November 6 so that no poll will be able to close at its stated time.”

He offered four things to do in 2018 so that there is “a widespread massive removal of Republicans from the House and the Senate the likes of which this country has never seen.” The starting point: “Over the next 10 months, I want you to identify 20 people who did not vote in the 2016 election and get them all to vote on Election Day, November 6.” Also on the list: running for office, demanding that Democratic candidates weigh in on the impeachment of Trump and not worrying about Mike Pence.

“The purpose of the 2018 election is we are electing the jury for the trial of Donald J. Trump,” said Moore.

Getting an additional 2 million nonvoters to vote would also help, he said. Registering an additional 1 million voters from traditionally disenfranchised groups in critical states is the big 2018 goal for the Women’s March. “Our undocumented brothers and sisters cannot vote, so we must vote for them,” said Paula Mendoza, a leader of the March organization.

Michael Moore speaks during the “People’s State of the Union” event one day ahead of President Trump’s State of The Union Speech to Congress, in New York City, Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Darren Ornitz/Reuters)

In New York, there was little mincing of words and none of the soft, polished phrases favored by D.C. advocacy groups. No one was worried about being mocked by conservatives for a too-bald focus on diversity or shamed on Twitter as unserious for raising, as Leguizamo did, the specter of Nazi Germany.

Leaders of indigenous rights, labor, immigrant rights, social justice and environmental groups were all there “to start to lay out the path for a greater victory in 2018. Because we’re winning back Congress,” Ruffalo proclaimed.

The evening was raw, angry and historically aware of its place in the decades’ — or centuries’ — long struggle for civil rights that sometimes involves elected politicians and sometimes doesn’t, but always, always involves figures from American culture. Singer Andra Day, who performed alone and with rapper Common at the People’s State of the Union, just as she had the night before at the Grammy Awards, urged the audience to have the resilience “to continue the fight, to finish the fight. Because it’s worth it even if you don’t see the results in this lifetime.”

The women’s event in Washington was a bit more upbeat and cheerful, perhaps because Planned Parenthood has succeeded over the past year in fending off congressional efforts to defund the organization or repeal the Affordable Care Act wholesale, while at the same time seeing an enormous outpouring of grassroots support and donations.

The anger and despair of the immediate postelection period has given way to a new excitement as the resistance movement has proved not just durable but bigger and stronger than many observers expected. “We are in an amazing movement moment, more than I have ever seen,” Ben Halle, press secretary for Planned Parenthood Federation of America, told Yahoo News about the new “united front” on the left. The “Our State of the Union” event came together in a week and a half.

FILE – In this Tuesday, July 26, 2016 file photo, Planned Parenthood President Cecile Richards waves after speaking during the second day of the Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia. (AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite)

Cecile Richards, the president of Planned Parenthood who recently announced plans to retire, spoke as Trump’s remarks wound down. “It’s not that women haven’t been speaking. For centuries women have been speaking out, right? But now we have found a new frequency, and folks are finally listening,” she said, echoing the words of Tarana Burke, who a decade ago founded the anti-sexual violence group Me Too whose name has since become a hashtag.

“While so many women have been empowered to speak up in this last year, this is not just about us finding our voices. We have been raising our voices. I’m talking about issues that plague us in our communities for decades. The real difference is our renewed commitment to working collectively across industries and across issues, like we are seeing tonight,” said Burke at the event. “We have no choice but to lean into our collective power” and move out of issue silos, she said.

Amid the fatigue of ceaseless activism, the uniting of once separate movements into something larger is something for the activists to hang on to. “It’s inspiring to see so many organizations and activists from a broad cross-section of movements coming together to review the state of the resistance,” the Women’s March said in a statement after Trump’s speech. “It’s time that we channel the energy and activism into tangible strategies and concrete wins in 2018.”

“The one silver lining in Trump is that we have created the mother of all movements,” Ruffalo had said, opening the People’s State of the Union in Manhattan. “We have come together. It’s a transformational, international movement of decency. Our eyes wide open. We are wide awake. And we are looking around at each other for the first time in probably decades.”

A guest in the audience wears an “Impeach” jacket, at “The People’s State Of The Union” at The Town Hall theater in New York City, NY, on Jan. 29, 2018. (Photo: Cheriss May/NurPhoto)