The American C.R.E.A.M. Series

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Periodically, Bonus Cut writer Victor Anderson will be sharing his American C.R.E.A.M. Series, a story where hip-hop is just the tip of the iceberg.

By: Victor Anderson 

THE BLOCH MOTEL 

A motel isn’t the living quarters one would typically choose to spend more than a night in, let alone a weekend. Usually families or individuals on their way to a location more appealing decide to settle for a cheap, crummy place to rest for the night, but then it’s back on the road in the morning to potential paradise. Establishments like motels are also the venue for things like adultery, prostitution and prom date hook-ups. Needless to say, not many positive things come to mind when the word, “motel,” is mentioned. So, why have I been living in one for the past two weeks?

Originally it was because I thought I needed an escape, an escape from everything that I was accustomed to. A lot of the kids I knew who went away to college took advantage of attending out-of-state universities or was granted the chance to study abroad in a foreign country but I didn’t stick around school long enough to get that opportunity. I wasn’t even given the normal college student campus living experience. I commuted from home because I wasn’t fortunate enough to have parents that could afford to pay for housing. It probably would’ve been a waste anyway because it only took me a year and a half to completely become fed up with the tedious and mundane work ethic that came with being a good student. The only times that I enjoyed were times that involved non-related academic activities. Having a social life and doing things that I enjoyed was a lot more important to me than cramming for tests on subjects that I had zero interest in.

Almost a year had gone by since I had abandoned my parents dreams of me becoming a college graduate. I was on the way home from my lame job at the cellphone accessory kiosk in the mall when I decided to stop at my favorite convenient store to pick up one of my daily lotto scratch off tickets. Long story short, I won $8,000–after taxes were taken out. It must have been my lucky day.

Now that this hefty sum was all mines, I didn’t have to work for a while and I could truly focus on mapping out my life with no distractions. I left my home that I had been raised in and now for the first time, I’m on my own.

The Bloch Motel is located off of a secondary feeder road on the side of an interstate highway. It’s in a rural town on the outskirts of a major city. The Bloch is a two-story lodge that is coated in fainted pink and blue pastels and has 14 rooms in total. My room number is 10 and I’ve grown pretty fond of it. The exterior of the building is a bit weathered down considering it’s been around since the early ‘60s but the interior of the rooms have been kept in a rather impressive condition somehow. The burgundy drapes that keep the light out match the lamp shades and the blankets on the bed. The wood paneled walls provide a certain type of aroma and style to the room that gives me a sense of warmth for some reason. I’m not the biggest fan of the puke green carpet but it’s whatever, it’s just the floor. There’s a fridge, a microwave, a television and a bathroom and I couldn’t ask for more at $37 a day.

Since I’ve secluded myself here, I’ve been really pondering my future and narrowing down my options for possible career paths. After Day 2, I realized that I wanted to be a thespian—-an actor. It’s cliché but I think I’d be good at it and it sounds like it could be some fun. Not only the job but the dough is rather appealing to a guy who has recently found out how nice it is to get his hands on a good bit of it in a short amount of time. But I’m no sap; I’ve been taking the time to truly study the craft. In my first week here, I spent my days downloading and watching nothing but early silent films. Soon, I upgraded to foreign films; Spanish films, French Films, Japanese films, German films and Italian films. Slowly, coffee became a large part of my diet. I began to take note upon note of the emotions, expressions and voice inflection that were being channeled through the actor. I discovered and became aware of Constantin Stanislavski, Lee Strasberg and the technique of method acting. Soon, people like Marlon Brando and James Dean enticed me as I made my way through the ‘50s cinema era.

When I ventured out into the world, I would sit in coffee shops, bars and restaurants and people watch, choosing interesting looking individuals to study and thus jotting down my observations on napkins and menus. I’d take note of every single mannerism and facial tick and try my best to figure out what was going through their brains when they chose to demonstrate or execute any specific action that was natural to them. Sometimes, I would imitate them in the mirror when I would get back to The Bloch, or home as I liked to call it. I met a couple of truck drivers in the parking lot my first week there. Of course they happened to be pulling in and crashing for the night. I would approach them and strike up a conversation as a character that I had observed and practiced. After talking to these men who know the roads of this country like the back of their hand I realized that they have seen things and they have stories to tell and that’s what makes them real. I had to figure out a way to make my characters authentic and appear as if they had lived an entire lifetime.

One night I was drinking whiskey with a gentleman from Cleveland who had stopped in for the night and we were leaning over the balcony drunkenly and irrationally strategizing how we would survive the zombie apocalypse and that’s when I first noticed the 1988 navy blue Camry pull into the parking lot. The headlights went dim after the engine went to sleep and the driver’s door casually became ajar. From the car emerged a slender denim leg. The sole of their Converse was placed firmly on the pavement and out stepped a brunette dressed in a black t-shirt. She glanced at us with her two emerald eyes through thick rimmed glasses and briskly walked into the front door to meet the key clerk. That was the first time I had laid eyes on Talia Leslie and it definitely won’t be the last.

To be continued…

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4 thoughts on “The American C.R.E.A.M. Series

  1. […] …continued from Chapter One: The Bloch Motel […]

  2. […] …continued from part two. Click here for part one.  […]

  3. […] …continued from part three. Click here for part two. Click here for part one. […]

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