Post by "Perfection" Evan Cartwright on Dec 27, 2005 19:06:25 GMT -5
-=The banks of the Mississippi River, late evening=-
[We notice the figure of a black man dressed casually in a pair of Tommy jeans and a hooded sweater with the University of Illinois symbol for the Fightin’ Illini on the chest. Hands stuffed in his pockets against the cold, we see him kick up some rocks with his boots and crouch down onto his haunches while watching the river flow downstream.
This side of the river bank is rather bare and rugged while the opposite shore appears more maintained and lush with vegetation. Evan stares at this paradox and smiles at the irony of it. After all, we all have our own forms of a river to cross in order to get where we want to be—where we feel we need to be.]
Evan: “Welcome to Cairo, people—southern most city in Illinois, where the mighty Mississippi and the Ohio rivers merge. Cairo is a crossroads, be it the rivers or the steamboats that used to dock here in the 19th and early 20th centuries. This town was once an important base of commerce and trade before times changed and the use of the rivers for transportation grew less and less. Cairo began her steady decline after that, and only a few thousand remain. Heck, during my high school graduation speech, our principal urged us to get out of Cairo for good, because there was nothing here for us. A dying town that can't wait to usher in the grim reaper... it makes me sad sometimes that few people care anymore. Even the old folks have given up hope and just wait for time to eat away at this place.
“I got out of Cairo as soon as I could. I worked and lived the 9 to 5 life for some time and I found it rather repulsive. I earned my degree in Economics from Illinois, but instead of heading for Wall Street, I headed for the mean streets. East Saint Louis isn't exactly the gentlest city in the world—it taught me how to fight and how to survive. Sometimes in life, a street education is more valuable than anything they can teach you in college. But it was important to my grandmother for me to get my degree, so I did that for her... and for myself. I can't be flying around the ring forever, you know. My grandparents are still around and they refuse to leave, even if the town is dying off little by little. My grandfather once said that the river would have to up and wash him away for him to move from his rocking chair. Somehow, I believe him.
“But they are not the only reason I come back. I like to come back here to remind myself. I come from a dying place that has given up hope--a symbol of former greatness that will never be again. This has helped mold my personality into something of an optimist... because I don't want to give up hope like my hometown has. Evan Cartwright has all the God-given gifts to be a success in this business, and I do not intend to waste those gifts. I'm at a crossroads of my own in life, when things can go either way, just like the river junction here: dangerous, deadly, and unpredictable... but exciting and majestic all at the same time.”
[Evan walks for a while before coming upon the great levee of Cairo, a mammoth breakwater that prevents the town from drowning. Evan thinks about how easy it would be to simply rig some plastic explosives along the stress fractures, or even drive a giant big rig truck straight into the levee and watch the town wash away into the Ohio, just to the immediate south. Cairo wouldn’t even be missed, as everyone already thinks the place is a ghost town.]
Evan: “No, better to leave it here as is. It always serves as a good reminder to me of where I came from and to never return. Greener pastures lie ahead of me in Alberta, Canada; a place I intend to call home as long as I am under contract with NAPW. I guess I need to learn to brandish a hockey stick or something, but I refuse to learn to ice skate.
I come not to make any enemies; in fact, if I can make it to the big time without stepping on any toes, so much the better. But if it does happen—and it always eventually does—I will be ready to bust heads with the best of them. I could stand here and make claims about being “hard” or “gangsta,” but what good would that do? I’ll let my fists, feet, and skills do the talking for me when I hit that ring and execute Cartwheels left and right.
Make no mistake; the levee will break one of these days. And when that levee does break, mama, you better run all the way to Chicago.”
[Evan stands atop the levee and surveys the view of the valley, with the two rivers intersecting and continuing south as far as the eye can see. He turns on his heels with a knowing smile on his face and heads to his car, parked some distance away. Fade to a commercial for Brion’s House of Exotic Thai Massage. Buy 2 massage, happy ending come free.]
[We notice the figure of a black man dressed casually in a pair of Tommy jeans and a hooded sweater with the University of Illinois symbol for the Fightin’ Illini on the chest. Hands stuffed in his pockets against the cold, we see him kick up some rocks with his boots and crouch down onto his haunches while watching the river flow downstream.
This side of the river bank is rather bare and rugged while the opposite shore appears more maintained and lush with vegetation. Evan stares at this paradox and smiles at the irony of it. After all, we all have our own forms of a river to cross in order to get where we want to be—where we feel we need to be.]
Evan: “Welcome to Cairo, people—southern most city in Illinois, where the mighty Mississippi and the Ohio rivers merge. Cairo is a crossroads, be it the rivers or the steamboats that used to dock here in the 19th and early 20th centuries. This town was once an important base of commerce and trade before times changed and the use of the rivers for transportation grew less and less. Cairo began her steady decline after that, and only a few thousand remain. Heck, during my high school graduation speech, our principal urged us to get out of Cairo for good, because there was nothing here for us. A dying town that can't wait to usher in the grim reaper... it makes me sad sometimes that few people care anymore. Even the old folks have given up hope and just wait for time to eat away at this place.
“I got out of Cairo as soon as I could. I worked and lived the 9 to 5 life for some time and I found it rather repulsive. I earned my degree in Economics from Illinois, but instead of heading for Wall Street, I headed for the mean streets. East Saint Louis isn't exactly the gentlest city in the world—it taught me how to fight and how to survive. Sometimes in life, a street education is more valuable than anything they can teach you in college. But it was important to my grandmother for me to get my degree, so I did that for her... and for myself. I can't be flying around the ring forever, you know. My grandparents are still around and they refuse to leave, even if the town is dying off little by little. My grandfather once said that the river would have to up and wash him away for him to move from his rocking chair. Somehow, I believe him.
“But they are not the only reason I come back. I like to come back here to remind myself. I come from a dying place that has given up hope--a symbol of former greatness that will never be again. This has helped mold my personality into something of an optimist... because I don't want to give up hope like my hometown has. Evan Cartwright has all the God-given gifts to be a success in this business, and I do not intend to waste those gifts. I'm at a crossroads of my own in life, when things can go either way, just like the river junction here: dangerous, deadly, and unpredictable... but exciting and majestic all at the same time.”
[Evan walks for a while before coming upon the great levee of Cairo, a mammoth breakwater that prevents the town from drowning. Evan thinks about how easy it would be to simply rig some plastic explosives along the stress fractures, or even drive a giant big rig truck straight into the levee and watch the town wash away into the Ohio, just to the immediate south. Cairo wouldn’t even be missed, as everyone already thinks the place is a ghost town.]
Evan: “No, better to leave it here as is. It always serves as a good reminder to me of where I came from and to never return. Greener pastures lie ahead of me in Alberta, Canada; a place I intend to call home as long as I am under contract with NAPW. I guess I need to learn to brandish a hockey stick or something, but I refuse to learn to ice skate.
I come not to make any enemies; in fact, if I can make it to the big time without stepping on any toes, so much the better. But if it does happen—and it always eventually does—I will be ready to bust heads with the best of them. I could stand here and make claims about being “hard” or “gangsta,” but what good would that do? I’ll let my fists, feet, and skills do the talking for me when I hit that ring and execute Cartwheels left and right.
Make no mistake; the levee will break one of these days. And when that levee does break, mama, you better run all the way to Chicago.”
[Evan stands atop the levee and surveys the view of the valley, with the two rivers intersecting and continuing south as far as the eye can see. He turns on his heels with a knowing smile on his face and heads to his car, parked some distance away. Fade to a commercial for Brion’s House of Exotic Thai Massage. Buy 2 massage, happy ending come free.]