Tune Up #1

MARK: We begin on Christmas Eve, with me, Mark, and my roommate, Roger. We live in an industrial loft on the corner of 11th Street and Avenue B, the top floor of what was once a music-publishing factory, Old rock 'n' roll posters hang on the walls. They have Roger's picture advertising gigs at CBGB's and the Pyramid Club. We have an illegal wood-burning stove; its exhaust pipe crawls up to a skylight. All of our electrical appliances are plugged into one thick extension cord which snakes its way out a window. Outisde, a small tent-city has sprung up in the lot next to our building. Inside, we are freezing because we have no heat.
Smile!

MARK:
December 24, 9 p.m.
Eastern standard time
from here on in I shoot without a script
See if anything comes of it
Instead of my old shit
First shot - Roger
Tuning the fender guitar
He hasn't played in a year

ROGER:
This won't tune

MARK:
So we hear
He's just coming back
From half a year of withdrawl

ROGER:
Are you talking to me?

MARK:
Not at all
Are you ready?
Hold that focus steady
Tell the folks at home what you're doing Roger…

ROGER:
I'm writing one great song.

MARK:
The phone rings

ROGER:
Saved!

MARK:
We screen, zoom in on the answering machine