Chad Davis

film editor // writer

Storyteller \\ Fiction and Non-fiction

In Your Own Way

I like problems. Mostly, insolvable ones. Take, for example, this thought:

I want to know what happens after death- is it like falling asleep? Or is it like anything at all? Would I know if I were already dead?

It's these types of problems that keep my mind overly occupied at all times, day and night. Most would probably just scoff at trying to find meaning in ambiguity, but I find it intensely interesting.

In order to figure out such a problem, one must cross a barrier that cannot be uncrossed. Death's boundary is one that cannot be revoked at whim. Therefore the bounties, if any, within the sphere of non-living are forever obscured. There is no way to know what death feels like without succumbing to it. It is an unapologetic mystery. 

This perhaps is why I hate the Netflix show, The OA. Any story or medium that attempts to oversimplify deeply impenetrable mysteries flounders into drivel. To explain death as a trap door into the fifth dimension not only oversimplifies the majesty of unknowing, but it stupefies it.

This is perhaps why Ernest Hemingway blew his head off; he had reached his wit's end and decided to see for himself. Or maybe it was the depression and the alcoholism. Either way, we'll never know, and to think you can find out is both a noble and a stupid endeavor.

Ironically enough, by searching for the answers of unanswerable questions, one runs into a fork in the road at which they must make a choice: continue scrambling for answers in the dark or move on. In moving on, there most likely will be an insight gained. In trying harder for more answers, nothing will be gained.

Thus as it turns out, the real crux is not the thought problem itself; it's where one thinks they can solve the problem at all. 

Post-Hiatus

After about... A year? Yes. Wow.

A year has passed since I last wrote anything public besides those short writing prompts. After my extremely short stint as a dupe providing content to EliteDaily, I decided to write for myself for free rather than for the benefit of some bullshit company leveraging its steep valuation off of bamboozled 20-somethings trying have their voice heard through pop-culture lists and anecdotal advice columns.

I've grown up.

So, naturally as obsessive people tend to do, I fixated on the one thing that everyone America has laughed and cried about for the past six months- Donald Drumpf.

The anxiety I felt- and still somewhat feel- about the alarmingly authoritarian state America seems to be hurling itself towards propelled me to face the fear head on: 

What would actually happen if America reinstated WWII policies that would allow the unconstitutional arresting, holding and persecuting of a large mass of its own citizens in order to battle an increasingly obscure enemy?

The result? A 120-page screenplay dedicated solely to answering that question.

The Fate of Fear | Aadila- the daughter of a Syrian mother and a U.S. soldier- must confront the fear of her own heritage in order to save America from its most troubling of adversaries- its own authoritarian government.

Sounds great, huh? Give a read if you're interested...

Prompted Tales #4

How One Attains Freedom

[Part of an on-going series.]

  1. Go on a journey searching for "meaning."
  2. Get distracted by the inviting face at the far end of a bar in Morocco.
  3. Forget your train tickets in your lover's bedroom.
  4. Hop on the caboose, like in the stories your pappy told you when you were three.
  5. Get thrown off the train somewhere south of the border.
  6. Hitch a ride through war-torn countrysides.
  7. Get detained.
  8. Explain your western accent.
  9. Escape with the other POW's.
  10. Illegally bored the last ferry out for the day.
  11. Outrun the patrolmen.
  12. Happen upon a monastery where non-descript men and women in tawny robes stare at walls all day long.
  13. Stare at a wall.
  14. Forget the reason you left home.
  15. Stare at a wall.
  16. Forget the pain lodged with the bullet in your left arm.
  17. Stare at a wall.
  18. Forget your name.
  19. Stare at a wall.