logan ian ellis .wip

[logan ian ellis]

THE WHO

AWKWARD. SAD-SACK. RESERVED.

NAME. Logan Ian Ellis
AGE. 31
BIRTHDAY. August 8th 1979
OCCUPATION. Writer
BIRTH PLACE. London, England
NATIONALITY. Scottish
ORIENTATION. Hetereosexual, though at this rate, unick
PREMADE TITLE. N/A
PLAYBY. Justin Theroux

THE WHAT

AWKWARD. He tried. Honestly, he did. The words were there. Some where in there deep down. Hey, what's up? Nice to see you. You new around here? Simple syllables. No extreme sentence structure. They'd be on the tip of his tongue when an unrecognized face surfaced before him and...some how, some what...the twelve syllables that had pressed themselves against the back of his lips would convert to something else in his vocal chords. A something else that sounded alot like "Erm...Hi." His eyes would shift in embarrassment, arms crossing around his chest as he'd touch the back of his neck and mentally beat himself up over his lack of performance in the English language. A published writer that hadn't yet perfected the art of speech.
SAD-SACK. Clumsy just didn't seem to be the word for his misfortunes. This wasn't to say that he WASN'T clumsy, it was just that the word didn't even begin to encompass just how unfortunate the instances in Ellis' life were. He was the king of tripping over nothing, and staring back at the invisible object; staring off into space and realizing he had been in some person's crotch for the past hour; washing his hands after going to the bathroom and splashing water on the front of his pants. It wasn't hard to laugh at the inelegant man as he'd accidentally drop his gig-stick into his coffee in the classroom, then go in after it with out thought to only burn his fingertips. It was an ensured ritual, and yet for some reason or another, he just never seemed to learn.
--- PATIENT It can almost go with out say that after dealing with such an onslaught of unfortunate events, that Ellis was well known for his patience. Patience in waiting, patience in life, patience in people - the last being the greatest of all. It wasn't a rare thing to have some ignorant fool approach him thanks to his rough exterior to try and start an altercation at the bar. It was almost guaranteed. The challenger, how ever, wouldn't get his expected fisty-cuffs, but a low, calm tone to settle the mood. This of course, wasn't to say that Ellis wouldn't deliver if a punch was swung. He was just always the one to sit and wait for the perfect time to strike. A trait that very few men obtained once the liquor started flowing.
RESERVED. Having spent most of his life getting laughed at, it was easy to see why Ellis wasn't exactly eager to jump into conversation. It wasn't necessarily because he was frightened of ridicule (christ, it was almost his middle name by now) or due to his horrible abilities of making conversation, though. Ellis was just content with keeping things to himself. People were annoying when they always felt the need to blurt out their points of view, and as far as he was concerned, they were pretentious and egocentric. If asked, sure, he'd put his two cents in, but if left unprovoked and unengaged, the Scottsman was satisfied with peering as his cellular device until he was involved.
--- LONELY As it could be assumed with his reserved nature, inept conversation skills, and social awkwardness; Logan Ellis was a some what lonely man. He had family, of course. And maybe a friend here or there. But on the whole, there was very little interaction outside of himself. Meeting new people was about as daunting as a head-on collision with a fuel-tanker. And when your lips could only spit out a maximum word count of seven or more at a time, making friends, let alone having a love life, was almost unheard of. No, no. He's just stick to his writing, where the paper wouldn't judge or talk back. Where his mind would freely flow and his thoughts could spout with out a stagger.

LIKES. writing, looking at attractive women, putting Jack Daniels in different drinks, smooth-operating days, sean connery, typewriters, black coffee, jazz music, James Bond movies, the board game Battleship
DISLIKES. Telling a funny story, stuttering and ruining the punchline, dropping things, being polite and holding the door open for some one. But they're too far away, pretentious people, egocentrism, stains, laughing at a joke that you don't get, and then having some one ask you to explain it, waving at the wrong people, awkward run-ins with friend of a friends, running out of things to talk about

THE WHY

BEST MEMORY. "Oh, um. Well, it's nothing special, really. There was just this one bbq I went to this one year during college with Lana. We were both 19.. My whole family was there and she looked beautiful. We watched the sunset, set off fire works, drank ourself to a happy numb and fell asleep holding each other in my brother's pick-up truck. I don't know why it's stuck with me, really."
WORST MEMORY. "Lana Armstrong, you are under arrest for the act or practice of being available for sex acts with another person against payment."

THREE PARAGRAPHS HERE ABOUT THEIR HISTORY. WHAT MAKES THEM WHO THEY ARE, AND LIFE DEFINING MOMENTS. DO NOT EXCEED MORE THEN 500 WORDS.

THE HOW

RP SAMPLE.
VETO VETO VETO


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