Reading Jay's latest entry (below), I remember that one time I had to do a 36 hour shift at Tuas South Avenue 1. I was a 19 year old security guard who was earning easy money playing Scarecrow to my wildest imagination. There were a total of four posts at the work-site. There was the North Gate, East Gate, West Gate and Headquarters. With East Gate as an exception, the rest of the posts were ideal for one to imagine and get lost in his own ridiculous tales and fantasies.
My head spun thousands of stories in that 36 hour shift. I wrote all of em' on paper. There was the ghost story: the spirit of a slain security guard haunting on his colleagues . Then a comedy documenting a day in a life of five security guards at work (Clerks-esque). A suspense/thriller which involves a security guard/terrorist trying to bomb the American plant. Even, an erotic piece of being stuck in the post with a female colleague which ended up being a porno flick (this came up when the guy that should come after my shift did not turn up and I manned the post for 5 hours). And etc, etc.
The whole point of reminiscing this is realizing how much I miss being confined to a space that holds the conditions of the stories that I imagine & write. The senses work better, I suppose.
Note: So Jay, y'know, we should really find a place that we can confine ourselves to and attempt to draft the complete script based on the restricted conditions. What do you think?
