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Post by ✖ AJ on Mar 27, 2011 9:16:59 GMT -5
Your writing is great for this and the whole talking to the journal and Claudio Castagnoli references are great. You've developed the character in a great way, too. Not really just coming out and saying "Hey, I'm a long haired skinny kid from Missouri" and just slipped it in. Keep up the good work, dude, and I'll keep on reading.
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Post by duan on Mar 27, 2011 9:49:43 GMT -5
So far, so good man. You definitely capture the first person view very well and when you throw little references into the diary ('my black ass', castanogli references, etc.) it really brings out a real character. I'm pulling for you to continue this as long as you can man, it has so much potential. Keep it going good sir, i'll be reading and replying.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2011 14:49:59 GMT -5
Great entry! I love the Castagnoli jokes, so keep theme coming. Space Jam reference was gold. These entries are definitely developming Jackson Black's character, which isn't very common when it comes to first person diaries on here. The ending to this diary makes me want more, the suspense is just killing me. I'm sure the guy is Dingo or Delirious, but I could be wrong. Anyway, keep up the good work, Evan. I will definitely continue reading!
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Post by Mike Bockwinkel on Mar 27, 2011 15:35:42 GMT -5
All looking pretty awesome so far, man. Can't wait til he starts wrestling and seeing the write ups on those.
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Post by buster on Mar 27, 2011 15:38:25 GMT -5
Nice three entrys. It is very realistic. Jackson seems to have a good personality.
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Post by CF9™ on Mar 28, 2011 21:45:29 GMT -5
"Shut up! Everyone shut your damn mouths!" came from our right, scaring the sh*t out of us. No one knew who said it, but we didn't make a sound.Continued from Entry 3...
"Great," I'm thinking, "my first day of wrestling training is gonna be a lecture." I look towards the source of the scream to see none other than Dingo, the trainer here at the Dynamo gym. He has a stern look across his compact, typical amateur wrestler size face. Think Bryan Danielson, but pissed off. Everyones head is sunken, apparently noticing new stains on their shoes that need some serious attention. His 5 foot, 7 inch frame strolled to the center of our attention. Here it comes...
"Just kiddin', guys, what's good?". Everyones blood started pumping again as we sighed a collective sigh of relief. A big, goofy smile now took the place of the previous stern look. Although I thought I needed a new pair of pants, funny joke, Mr. Dingo. I've actually seen Mr. Dingo wrestle many times in the Lethal Wrestling Alliance, and let me tell you, he's good. He's appeared in ROH on a few occasions, but he can't seem to land a full job there. He's a little guy, even for ROH standards.
"Don't just sit there, tell me your names, guys!" he exclaimed. Down the line we went, and I'd be lying if I told you I remembered more than one of the names that were said. I was too nervous to remember that crap. The one I did remember, though, was Nicole. Reason? Because she's a female. And my black ass (...still not really) loves me some females! I couldn't tell if she had any "definition" because she was wearing a hoody, but she had a face, that's for sure. She seemed out of place, I don't know. I guess because she's a pretty girl down in the deep city, and instead of modeling... she's wrestling. I think I'm in love.
Whoa, I got a little carried away there. Umm yeah, that's Nicole. Anyway, Dingo told us to get in the ring. And yeah, stepping through those ropes? AWESOME. MsChif entered with us, and instantly got on all fours. Don't tempt me, lady. Before I knew it, Dingo turned his back to her, fell back and smacked the mat with an enormous force. He'd just done the basic of basics: the back bump. He explained the proper way to do one, and called a big guy named Derrick to do the honors. This dude must be at least 300 pounds, so Dingo got down there to save MsChif from being flattened like a pancake. And for the life of big old Derrick, he couldn't do one. Fifteen times, and the dude was still landing on his side.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
"Is that the freakin' tornado siren?" yelled Dingo. Yup, the tornado siren ruined my first wrestling practice. Apparently the storm was pretty bad, but who gives a crap? They forced everyone out of the ring and pointed them toward the basement of the building, but I managed to stay behind. And you know what? After a quick check around the room to see if anyone was looking, I threw my arms out, whipped back as fast as I could, and executed a textbook back-bump of my own. Didn't feel too nice, but it's something I could definitely get used to. I quickly got up and rolled out of the ring to see Dingo at the basement door, smiling. "That's what I like to see, kid. Now get downstairs." I obeyed, not able to wipe the smile off of my face.
So that's why the day was so great. Even though Dingo decided to cancel training after the storm, it was a great day. Not because my life was spared from the "tornado" that never touched down, no. Not even because Dingo already seems to like me. Simply because I did my first back bump. Hopefully of many...
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Post by Red Dragon on Mar 29, 2011 10:26:12 GMT -5
DINGO! I was trying to remember who the trainer was I knew it was someone fairly famous. I love the way you don't just present the main character but everyone else as well from Dingo to the lady at the hotel reception. The tornado thing seemed random but I guess it's common place here. Liked the ending as well with Black getting to do one back bump and Dingo seeing. Hope you don't go super-unrealistic by having full on matches in the second day but I'd like to see you get though training quickly. Good luck and keep this up.
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Post by TheNinthCloud on Mar 29, 2011 17:10:32 GMT -5
VERY good write ups. Loving this story. I love how we are getting to know every character well. Would like more. Maybe a long entry or two?  |
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Post by chaz on Mar 31, 2011 15:14:48 GMT -5
I hope you drag the training out for as long as possible. I don't really think it'd be too good to just be jumping straight into wrestling. The backbone of this diary should be the training and uprising of your character, and you're starting that off well. Entry per lesson, perhaps?
Soooooo many Claudio references.
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Post by CF9™ on Apr 1, 2011 23:41:29 GMT -5
Dear Journal,
Oh my god, I'm wired right now. The phone call I just received still isn't completely registering in my mind. It just doesn't seem real. I'd just gotten back to the Inn from a late night convenience store run (Hot Fries, ftw), still fresh off my first day of training. I flopped onto my bed (mystery doodoo stain free!) and stared up at the smoke-stained yellow ceiling. Once I ripped open my bag of Hot Fries, "California Girls" by Katy Perry screamed from my pocket. Yeah that's my ring tone, wanna fight about it? Anyway, the caller ID showed a number that I'd never seen before. Expecting to tell someone they had the wrong number, I flipped open the phone and said hello.
"Black, it's Dingo." Oh sh*t. I knew it. Stupid, stupid, stupid me. That unsupervised back bump was gonna bite me in the ass, I had a gut feeling about it. My dumb ass shouldn't have taken it. That's the only reason he'd be calling me so late, I convinced myself. He's simply calling to tell me to pack up my things and head back to college while they'll still take my broke ass back.
"Hey, sir, I've been thinking, and it was a really stupid move for me to take that back bump unattended," I said, trying to bail myself out.
"Whoa, man, chill! Dude, I could care less if you took that back bump. It actually showed me that you are eager to learn. Don't sweat it." I sighed a sigh of relief and my blood started pumping at a normal speed again. Thank Jericho he wasn't mad. Why was he calling me so late, then? He continued, "It is actually what I'm calling about. You see, St. Louis Anarchy is having a show tomorrow out in St. Charles, and they have Donovan Ruddick booked to squash somebody since he's winning the title soon. Thing is, at the last second, the kid who was gonna get squashed told us that he had a booking issue and his bitch ass can't make it. We have nobody to take his place. Well nobody who could get squashed, you know? You're the only one in the class that I've seen take a successful back bump, so would you mind coming out and doing the job?"
W...w...what? Is he offering me my first match just hours after my first practice? I'd bought tickets to these same exact shows less than two months ago, and now I'm being offered a spot on the card? I thought for a total of 0.76 seconds, and gave him my reply.
"Sure, man, absolutely! What am I gonna do about gear?"
"Oh, well sh*t. Umm, I have a pair of old pleather shorts I used to wear, kind of like what Paul London rocks? I'll give you those. Basically, all you have to do is show up, get pushed into the turnbuckle then take a big boot." That was the best offer anyone had ever given me. "You cool with that? And I'm taking a huge risk by doing this, man. So please, don't f*ck this up for both of us."
"I'll try my best, sir. Thank you for this." He started to give me directions to the venue, the Vetta Sports Complex, but I stopped him. I knew exactly how to get there, I'd just be going into a different entrance this time. The back entrance, where the freaking wrestlers go! That was two hours ago, and I still can't sleep. Even though my grand debut will last about as long as a little kid on a pedophile's porch, my first match is tomorrow. Pinch me. |
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Post by duan on Apr 2, 2011 0:17:47 GMT -5
Hm, don't know how I feel about you jumping into a ring right away. I would have loved for Black to learn the proper way to take all bumps before even being squashed. Hopefully all goes well. So far, this has got to be one of my favorites on the board currently. Keep it up man, its got me interested!
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Post by Red Dragon on Apr 2, 2011 6:06:39 GMT -5
At first I was fully against you jumping into a full match right away but the way you handled it was very well. Seeing as he only has to take two bumps I can see this being kinda realistic and the way Dingo was saying it was such a big risk. Keep this up, one of my favourites on the board. Good luck.
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Post by TheNinthCloud on Apr 2, 2011 21:04:36 GMT -5
Simple incredible write-up. I would say your pushing him a bit quick, but the write-up is just amazing. Loving the Black character. Looking forward to both the match, and his first practice.
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Post by legendkiller8 on Apr 3, 2011 0:04:56 GMT -5
Yes, and excellent write-up, easily my favorite first-person since Just Bob's ones. But still awesome. I can't wait to see his match against Donovan Ruddick. We seem to learn more and more about his personality, but it should be nice to see if this continues and where it'll go from here. Great job.
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Post by CF9™ on Apr 5, 2011 18:46:53 GMT -5
Dear Journal,
Friday morning, 10:00 AM, I wake up. All the nervousness that was bottled up inside me the night before must have came out in my farts, because I'm cool as Carlito. Before my sleep, I though that I'd wake up a nervous wreck and rush around my hotel room like I did yesterday. But nope, I'm cool. I'm gonna get in the ring in front of at least 250 people tonight, no biggie. I showered, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. Grabbing some money off of the night stand for my cab fare, I was impressed with myself. No butterflies!
I sat in the cab for what seemed like hours, driving through some nice graffiti decorated neighborhoods, smiling at the locals. They didn't smile back, though. I guess they didn't want to get me out of the zone for my first match. City smoothly transitioned into suburbs, and I finally reached the St. Charles city limit sign. After 45 minutes of occasional chat with the Indian cab driver, I thanked him, payed him, and exited the car. My eyes gazed up at the Vetta Sports Complex. The large brick building stared back down at me, the sun poking around the corner. It was day now, so the building was cleverly disguised as a children's indoor soccer camp. But when night time rolls around, this place turns into Madison Square Garden. And I'm Hulk Hogan, baby.
I walked through the tinted glass doors (I forgot to go through the back like I'd seen the wrestlers do in the past) and looked toward field B. Three hours before show time, it was my job to help set up the ring. I was no stranger to this, as I'd helped out at Indy shows when I was about 13. I told my friends it was a way of "paying some of my dues in advance". The other wrestlers weren't strangers to me either, and some of them even recognized me from attending their previous shows. "Man, it's crazy to think you're gonna work a match for us, I've seen you in the crowd! Be careful out there, bud, Dingo told me you've only had 1 day of training!", said Shorty Biggs, a short pudgy black guy with incredible quickness for his size.
"Yeah, man, I'll do my best," I replied, still surprisingly not nervous. Dingo eventually arrived, and introduced me to my opponent. There he stood, at least 6'8", smiling all shiny and bright. His black hair was curled into little braids, and he was rocking a flashy St. Louis Cardinals shirt that only a black guy could pull off. Donovan Ruddick was really heating up here in St. Louis Anarchy, and it was my job to make him look good tonight. After he rolled through me, he's gonna be sent straight to the title scene. After we were introduced to eachother, they brought me in the ring and we practiced our match. Simple enough. All I had to do was get thrown back into the turnbuckle, sell my back as if it actually hurt, and run right into his size 15 boot. We didn't actually do the boot in our rehearsal though, because apparently he is pretty stiff with it and didn't wanna hurt me with no crowd to see it. Nice guy.
"Take these, ass-hat," Dingo said, looking amused at the word he'd just used to decribe me. "These are those pleather shorts I was telling you about. I also am gonna give you some elbow pads, treat them well. Go to the bathroom and put them on, because this sh*thole doesn't even have a locker room." I quickly scurried through the sh*thole and into the bathroom. They fit just right. I looked into the mirror, took off my shirt, and flexed. Look at me, I'm a wrestling superstar!
After 2 and a half hours, people started piling into field B. By then, a curtain had been set up to hide the talent from the fans. Thirty minutes turned into two, and the show intro was projected onto the curtain. I'm on next. "Kickstart my Heart" by Motley Crue played for the second time, but this time it wasn't for the intro. Since I hadn't thought to burn a CD, that was my entrance music.
Dingo slapped me on the back. "You're on kid." You know how I said I had no butterflies? Well all of the sudden a cocoon of about a hundred of them hatched in my stomach. I walked through the curtain... |
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Post by TheNinthCloud on Apr 5, 2011 19:24:00 GMT -5
Very nice new entry. Enjoyed the realism in this. I'm honestly really loving this diary. The characters are funny and it's always entertaining to read. Sort of sucks I have to wait to read the match, but I guess that's what cliffhangers are for.
Can't wait for an update.
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Post by duan on Apr 5, 2011 22:18:34 GMT -5
cannot wait to see how you do in the match man! Excellent entry.
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Post by legendkiller8 on Apr 5, 2011 22:34:40 GMT -5
Firstly thanks for the reply. And this was another great one as you captured him right on. I figured that you didn't have butterflies and thought you were lying the whole time. Still I can't wait to see the short match. Keep it up.
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Post by chaz on Apr 8, 2011 8:13:21 GMT -5
Another fantastic entry. Your write-ups are brilliant worded and tell the story of your character in such detail. I loved the MSG/Hogan line, and the closing phrase about the butterflies. Stuff like that really lets you get into the character and not just the surroundings.
Keep it up. This is easily one of my favourite diaries right now.
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Post by CF9™ on Apr 10, 2011 13:39:24 GMT -5
Dingo slapped me on the back. "You're on kid." You know how I said I had no butterflies? Well all of the sudden a cocoon of about a hundred of them hatched in my stomach. I walked through the curtain...Continued from Entry 6...
The lights of the soccer field blinded me as I stepped on a platform that was level with the ring. Kinda like ECW and TNA had for a while, but only this one was 5 feet long at best. I hopped down from said platform, little bits of rubber from the Astroturf flying up in the air. I spotted a little kid, sporting a John Cena shirt and armbands to match, yelling that I suck.
"I suck, kid? Turn around and ask your mother, I think she knows a little bit more about sucking than I do."
I guess I'm a heel. The kid turned around and looked at his mom with a disgusted face. She gave me the death stare, and I gave her a wink and said "Call me tonight!". I moved on, making a lap around the ring. Most people were up in my face, screaming things at me, but then I spotted some kids, no more than 15, clapping for me. I acted excited and ran toward them with my hand extended, the universal sign for a high five. As they all swatted at my hand, I pulled it back and smoothed back my hair, telling them that no one touched Jackson Black. I hopped into the ring and leaned in the corner, smiling from ear to ear and crossing my arms. This is awesome.
Then sh*t got real. "Hold Ya Head" by B.I.G blared over the speakers, and out came "The Future", Donovan Ruddick with an ear-piercing animal yell. The crowd of about 200 popped huge; you could tell that this guy was hot right now. He walked straight to the ring, staring a hole through my face the entire time. He had that Booker T look in his eyes, you know? Like "white boy got some nerve steppin' in my ring." The announcer, "Pretty Boy" Paul White, introduced him and rang the bell. Like planned, I sprinted toward the mammoth and jumped in the air. He caught me and hurled me toward the turnbuckle with incredible force. So hard, in fact, that I almost went straight over the thing. I smacked the pad with my mid-back and fell straight forward, smacking my face on the mat Chris Benoit style (who?).
I then realized I just made my first screw up. If I fell down after getting chucked into the corner, it wouldn't look very good if I got back up and ran toward him to get the boot. It just wouldn't flow. So I rolled out of the ring, threw my arms in the air and yelled "Screw this!" like I'd seen many of my favorite heels do. The crowed jeered, and I looked back into the ring to see Donovan wink at me; he knew what I was doing. He turned around and worked the crowd, and that was my improv-que. My character had a change of heart about walking out on the match, and slid into the ring and charged full speed at "The Future". He had turned around by that time, and threw his leg into the air. Huge boot, meet Jackson Black. Before I could realize that he booted my head back to my hotel, I fell back and threw my arms out, taking the third and hardest back bump I'd ever taking. One, two, three, it's over.
Ruddick let out another scream and walked to the back. As I stared up at the lights, goosebumps ran through my body. I'd just wrestled my first match. I'd been told I'd never even make it through the training, and here I am having my first match after one practice. And the left side of my face hurt like a bitch. I rolled out of the ring and onto the ground, being booed the whole time. Eventually I pulled my body onto the platform and pulled myself through the curtain. Dingo met me on the other side, all smiles.
"That was awesome, man! You even improvised a little bit! You're a natural heel!". I couldn't hold back my happiness, and thanked him a few hundred times. I was on an adrenaline high, my voice shakey and my hand jittering. I found Donovan, thanked him, and grabbed my journal. At the moment of writing this, I'm sitting in a soccer goal backstage. The main event is going on right now, but in my mind, the main event was Jackson Black vs. Donovan Ruddick.
So I wasn't Hulk Hogan, and I lost quicker than a whale playing Marco Polo in a kiddy pool. But Jackson Black just proved everyone back at home wrong. Whatcha gonna do, brother?
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