Zen and the Art of Non-Self-Promotion

[NOTE: If you are new to this journal, I suggest you start with the first entry and then skim a few others before reading this one. As I write this preface, I haven't written whatever it is yet, but I'm sensing it's going to be bizarre no matter how much you've prepared. To my regular readers (both of you): this is what we call the occasional "off-ramp".]

[With apologies to David Davis & Lorenzo Music and Mr. Bob Newhart]

FADE IN

INT. BOB'S OFFICE - DAY

BOB HARTLEY, an unassuming 55-ish psychiatrist, walks toward his office door. He opens it.

BOB: Hello, you must be Mr. -- (checks his note card) Ko --Kop --

Suddenly, TED KOPULOS enters.

TED: Kopulos. It rhymes with "hopeless".

He pauses as the audience laughs and applauds for no apparent reason. TED is 53, and has a trimmed beard. He wears glasses, a tasteful Hawaiian shirt, somewhat baggy jeans, and white athletic shoes. He is carrying a binder. He shakes BOB's hand.

BOB: (smiling) You know ... if you pronounce your last name a certain way it almost sounds like --

TED: Yes, I know.

BOB: Please ... have a seat.

TED sits on the couch. He occasionally will absent-mindedly tap on his binder.

BOB: May I get you anything?

TED: No, I'm fine. Thanks.

BOB sits in his chair.

BOB: So, Mr. Ko -- Kop -- um ...

TED: Just call me Ted. It's a lot easier and you'll be less inclined to giggle.

BOB: Oh, I would never do that. So "Ted". What brings you here today?

TED: Well, Dr. Hartley, I've been feeling a little depressed lately.

BOB: I -- I'm very sorry to hear that. How long have you been feeling this way?

TED: About twenty years.

BOB: Well ... I'm glad your decision to seek help today wasn't a snap decision. So why do you think you feel depressed?

TED: Oh, a million reasons ...

BOB: Um ... since we only have an hour, how about starting with just one or two?

TED: I feel like a failure.

BOB: In what way?

TED: Oh ... financially, professionally, physically, romantically ...

BOB: Excuse me a minute. (into intercom) Uh, Carol, can you clear my afternoon? I think I’m going to be here for awhile. (to TED) So ... you feel like a failure.

TED: A complete failure.

BOB: May I ask what you do for a living?

TED: I’m a writer.

BOB: (into intercom) Uh, never mind, Carol.

BOB notices TED tapping on his binder.

BOB: I notice that you've got a binder there, Ted. May I ask what you have in it?

TED: It's my latest work. I always carry my latest work around with me. I guess it reminds me I'm a writer. This one's a musical revue for the stage. It's called The Poptimists.

BOB: Well, that certainly sounds exciting.

TED: Yeah. I suppose so.

BOB: You don't seem too excited about it.

TED: Oh, I am. It's just that sometimes I get so depressed, I can't enjoy the good stuff.

BOB: Any idea why you might feel that way?

TED: I've been a writer for over 35 years. I've written hundreds of things and yet I can't make any money at it.

BOB: (carefully) Uh-huh. Pardon me for asking something this personal this soon into our first session, but ... are you a good writer?

TED realizes this thought has never occurred to him. The audiences laughs and applauds as we:

FADE OUT

Next: How Can I Follow That?