previously published by me elsewhere:
One day you wake up and everything around you reeks of adulthood.
Coffee consumption has increased tenfold, frivolous cash spending is overtaken by pinching pennies for gas, phrases like "make it an early night" become more frequent, everything on that VH-1 "I Love Toys" show is merely nostalgia, and what you're going to be when you grow up is roughly what you are now.
By no means is this something that just occurred to me upon stumbling out of bed today, however there's one thing about inching myself toward committing to adulthood that has caught me a little off-guard.
Last night while driving home from the set I realized that most of my greetings and farewells with people these days are done by hand shake. When does something like that become commonplace without resistance?
23 June 2006
21 June 2006
have heart
previously published by me elsewhere:
One thing that defines many horror movies is little tricks that make the audience react on a visceral level. Tonight we shot one such scene that involves a most vital organ, but ironically my heart just wasn't in it. The material wasn't really exciting to me, and I know I wasn't the only one.
At the core of satisfaction in a relationship is the assumption that all parties involved are getting out of it something they want. For a lot of people doing this, there's the hope that the resulting feature film that comes from all of the work will be a success, or at least worth all of the trouble.
In my mind this same sort of prospects for the future test is put toward every relationship. This is something I really got to thinking about today, having just found out two of my friends have broken up.
I remember flying down the highway with them, while we were all on a road trip. A certain lull in our conversation was filled with an extensive conversation between them. It was then that I realized they were hitting it off in a different way than before, and I was witnessing the birth of something special. It wasn't long after until I realized I had quickly become merely a chauffeur.
The dynamic always changes between people when break ups happen. You always worry that you're going to be one of the things that has to go as people try to heal and step away from the past.
A few years ago a marriage-bound couple I once knew had a really nasty break-up that involved an unnecessary restraining order and a completely unsettling display of spite. I only know one of them now, and the other ended up losing all signs of their original personality.
As unlikely as it is, my romantic half often likes to think a separated married couple I know will get back together, even if they both ruined that relationship.
As selfish and simplistic as it sounds, it's like bands you know and love getting a new lead singer. You have too many positive associations with how it was the other way.
The thing is, I know too many lonely people to know two more. And this just breaks my heart.
One thing that defines many horror movies is little tricks that make the audience react on a visceral level. Tonight we shot one such scene that involves a most vital organ, but ironically my heart just wasn't in it. The material wasn't really exciting to me, and I know I wasn't the only one.
At the core of satisfaction in a relationship is the assumption that all parties involved are getting out of it something they want. For a lot of people doing this, there's the hope that the resulting feature film that comes from all of the work will be a success, or at least worth all of the trouble.
In my mind this same sort of prospects for the future test is put toward every relationship. This is something I really got to thinking about today, having just found out two of my friends have broken up.
I remember flying down the highway with them, while we were all on a road trip. A certain lull in our conversation was filled with an extensive conversation between them. It was then that I realized they were hitting it off in a different way than before, and I was witnessing the birth of something special. It wasn't long after until I realized I had quickly become merely a chauffeur.
The dynamic always changes between people when break ups happen. You always worry that you're going to be one of the things that has to go as people try to heal and step away from the past.
A few years ago a marriage-bound couple I once knew had a really nasty break-up that involved an unnecessary restraining order and a completely unsettling display of spite. I only know one of them now, and the other ended up losing all signs of their original personality.
As unlikely as it is, my romantic half often likes to think a separated married couple I know will get back together, even if they both ruined that relationship.
As selfish and simplistic as it sounds, it's like bands you know and love getting a new lead singer. You have too many positive associations with how it was the other way.
The thing is, I know too many lonely people to know two more. And this just breaks my heart.
20 June 2006
mind control
previously published by me elsewhere:
A blackbox theater has been used as one of the locations for the last three film productions I have worked on, which is one of the reasons I spent the better part of six hours this evening in the dark.
I have to suspect there is a certain monetary minimalism making the decision to shoot there more appealing. That's the only reason I can come up with, because I've never written a scene that I thought could be best executed in a dark void. In fact I think all of these productions could have benefited from a different location for their respective scenes.
Whatever the case I got to the community college blackbox at five, and was expecting to soon gather up our host of scheduled extras. Instead two people showed up. They were in costume, and ready to go, and turned out to be pretty damn patient as well, but they didn't fill a room.
This was about the time desperation started to develop, and it became a matter of getting a hold of warm bodies. So, like the creative vampires that we are, we set out to recruit people from the campus. There were no takers, unfortunately. What's with that?
I remember a particular evening on a far less organized production when the same rounding up of last minute extras proved very successful. Many of them were revved to be involved in a movie. I recall one side of a cell phone conversation one of them was having about how cool they were being in a movie. Where was that interest tonight?
I think in many ways interest is really waning on the project. It's completely an uphill battle to get to the finish at this point, which was well represented by the non-vocalized communicating one of our actors was doing all evening.
He's one of a small collective of local well-respected talents, and for good reason. Unfortunately he's cast in our movie in a slight role that demands little more of him than breathing, and at some points not even that. All of this after several hours of waiting and some extensive time in the make-up chair.
Although I see him as more of a theater actor than a film actor, I still admire him and think if there's anyone we need to impress it's him. I think we fell flat in that regard tonight.
Though there are many more to come before we wrap, these evening shoots are really killing us. Tonight everything seemed to be running in slow motion, except the clock, and it's becoming harder and harder to hide my ambivalence with how things are corroding.
A blackbox theater has been used as one of the locations for the last three film productions I have worked on, which is one of the reasons I spent the better part of six hours this evening in the dark.
I have to suspect there is a certain monetary minimalism making the decision to shoot there more appealing. That's the only reason I can come up with, because I've never written a scene that I thought could be best executed in a dark void. In fact I think all of these productions could have benefited from a different location for their respective scenes.
Whatever the case I got to the community college blackbox at five, and was expecting to soon gather up our host of scheduled extras. Instead two people showed up. They were in costume, and ready to go, and turned out to be pretty damn patient as well, but they didn't fill a room.
This was about the time desperation started to develop, and it became a matter of getting a hold of warm bodies. So, like the creative vampires that we are, we set out to recruit people from the campus. There were no takers, unfortunately. What's with that?
I remember a particular evening on a far less organized production when the same rounding up of last minute extras proved very successful. Many of them were revved to be involved in a movie. I recall one side of a cell phone conversation one of them was having about how cool they were being in a movie. Where was that interest tonight?
I think in many ways interest is really waning on the project. It's completely an uphill battle to get to the finish at this point, which was well represented by the non-vocalized communicating one of our actors was doing all evening.
He's one of a small collective of local well-respected talents, and for good reason. Unfortunately he's cast in our movie in a slight role that demands little more of him than breathing, and at some points not even that. All of this after several hours of waiting and some extensive time in the make-up chair.
Although I see him as more of a theater actor than a film actor, I still admire him and think if there's anyone we need to impress it's him. I think we fell flat in that regard tonight.
Though there are many more to come before we wrap, these evening shoots are really killing us. Tonight everything seemed to be running in slow motion, except the clock, and it's becoming harder and harder to hide my ambivalence with how things are corroding.
19 June 2006
hair culture
previously published by me elsewhere:
The second day of the year celebrating procreation passed by on Sunday, and I've been thinking a lot about roots.
My sister recently moved back to Tallahassee. She has spent many years on the trek towards the right place for her family to set down roots and, after a fashion, start living. Though I wouldn't say their relationship is by any means strong, our parents also happen to live there in town.
Three days ago my brother packed up and moved to New England with his caravan of children. He also happens to be moving back to a town he lived in a number of years ago, up in Connecticut.
One of the legends of Gainesville is the theory that if you are born here you will likely never leave, and if you live here once and leave, you are destined to return. It's some sort of boomerang effect.
I, for one, have lived here on two separate occasions.
As it turns out my hair stylist sister-in-law has just bought a hair salon in town, so she will be relocating. My hippie father-in-law with the golf habit shouldn't be far behind.
I can feel the roots quickly setting under my feet as I type, and I'm not sure how I feel about that, except uncertain.
I'm not one of those Hollywood-bound filmmakers. I've felt like an outsider most of my life, and there's something about making that familiar stereotypical trek to Tinseltown and losing your ideals that has always offended me at the core. I want to remain honest, and make films from that standpoint.
So, the question is, and shall always be: can that be done from a small town in Florida?
I have a friend, I once called my best friend, who I grew up watching many films with, because his family used to rent a stack of eight new releases from X-tra Supermarket every week and tape them. Our pursuits were very similar for many years, but as time went on he went to a film school in California and I left school in pursuit of learning it on my own.
I've always had a tendency of getting antsy in my place at any given time. When I was a kid I would rearrange my bedroom on a regular basis. As I got older, I would get anxious to quit my day jobs very quickly, even if I didn't. And more recently I have been on this search to find somewhere better to live, even if my perceptions of many places only come from movies.
Within the past year or so, I found some like-minded individuals in town, who are also in pursuit of making films for a living. Sometimes I feel like that little girl in the bee costume in Blind Melon's "No Rain" video. I have found my fellow outcasts! Is that ever enough, or will I become dissatisfied with that situation just as quickly?
When is it settling, and when is it merely living?
The second day of the year celebrating procreation passed by on Sunday, and I've been thinking a lot about roots.
My sister recently moved back to Tallahassee. She has spent many years on the trek towards the right place for her family to set down roots and, after a fashion, start living. Though I wouldn't say their relationship is by any means strong, our parents also happen to live there in town.
Three days ago my brother packed up and moved to New England with his caravan of children. He also happens to be moving back to a town he lived in a number of years ago, up in Connecticut.
One of the legends of Gainesville is the theory that if you are born here you will likely never leave, and if you live here once and leave, you are destined to return. It's some sort of boomerang effect.
I, for one, have lived here on two separate occasions.
As it turns out my hair stylist sister-in-law has just bought a hair salon in town, so she will be relocating. My hippie father-in-law with the golf habit shouldn't be far behind.
I can feel the roots quickly setting under my feet as I type, and I'm not sure how I feel about that, except uncertain.
I'm not one of those Hollywood-bound filmmakers. I've felt like an outsider most of my life, and there's something about making that familiar stereotypical trek to Tinseltown and losing your ideals that has always offended me at the core. I want to remain honest, and make films from that standpoint.
So, the question is, and shall always be: can that be done from a small town in Florida?
I have a friend, I once called my best friend, who I grew up watching many films with, because his family used to rent a stack of eight new releases from X-tra Supermarket every week and tape them. Our pursuits were very similar for many years, but as time went on he went to a film school in California and I left school in pursuit of learning it on my own.
I've always had a tendency of getting antsy in my place at any given time. When I was a kid I would rearrange my bedroom on a regular basis. As I got older, I would get anxious to quit my day jobs very quickly, even if I didn't. And more recently I have been on this search to find somewhere better to live, even if my perceptions of many places only come from movies.
Within the past year or so, I found some like-minded individuals in town, who are also in pursuit of making films for a living. Sometimes I feel like that little girl in the bee costume in Blind Melon's "No Rain" video. I have found my fellow outcasts! Is that ever enough, or will I become dissatisfied with that situation just as quickly?
When is it settling, and when is it merely living?
18 June 2006
the sequel
previously published by me elsewhere:
[THESE BLOGS USED TO EXIST ON MYSPACE AND I WROTE THIS IN RESPONSE TO THAT NETWORKING SITE]
Tonight, after a month here, I showed a couple real life friends what the whole Myspace thing was all about. One of them fears the identity threats possibly available here, and the other doesn't really have the time to spend on-line that an addiction like Myspace demands.
What's the deal with becoming a recruiter, or spreading the Myspace propaganda to others? Do we all communicate better if we have a list of each other's favorite things to refer to?
Going in I knew Myspace as little more than a place for the lonely, the bored, and the perverts of the world, which are all groups I have identified with at one time or another during my lifetime.
In my mind, it had become somewhat of a buzzword by the mainstream media and novelty t-shirts representing the site as certain downfall of our culture. I decided to join up as a whim, and of course to join in on the freefall.
I don't know if any of my pre-conceptions about what this virtual community is all about are wrong, but I guess I have gotten the chance to see it as something with more potential than that.
For example, we are creating a Myspace account for the current movie I'm working on, as one of the many marketing tools we have in mind.
Also, I have gotten back in touch with several people who have been absent from my life for over ten years. There's a certain amount of forcing fate within re-connecting with people you never would have without the site.
Does it matter, really?
[THESE BLOGS USED TO EXIST ON MYSPACE AND I WROTE THIS IN RESPONSE TO THAT NETWORKING SITE]
Tonight, after a month here, I showed a couple real life friends what the whole Myspace thing was all about. One of them fears the identity threats possibly available here, and the other doesn't really have the time to spend on-line that an addiction like Myspace demands.
What's the deal with becoming a recruiter, or spreading the Myspace propaganda to others? Do we all communicate better if we have a list of each other's favorite things to refer to?
Going in I knew Myspace as little more than a place for the lonely, the bored, and the perverts of the world, which are all groups I have identified with at one time or another during my lifetime.
In my mind, it had become somewhat of a buzzword by the mainstream media and novelty t-shirts representing the site as certain downfall of our culture. I decided to join up as a whim, and of course to join in on the freefall.
I don't know if any of my pre-conceptions about what this virtual community is all about are wrong, but I guess I have gotten the chance to see it as something with more potential than that.
For example, we are creating a Myspace account for the current movie I'm working on, as one of the many marketing tools we have in mind.
Also, I have gotten back in touch with several people who have been absent from my life for over ten years. There's a certain amount of forcing fate within re-connecting with people you never would have without the site.
Does it matter, really?
black coffee
previously published by me elsewhere:
We had intended to capture a couple reasonably complicated and important scenes over three evenings this past week.
The little wind that could of Tropical Whatever Alberto was still unpredictable enough on Monday night that we decided to cancel our Tuesday shoot. The decision to scrub the other two nights was a result of what happens when only a couple people are consistently focused on a project: some oversights made us ill-prepared to make those scenes happen.
The production gathered again at 9:30AM on Saturday morning ready but not necessarily willing to tear through a rigorous schedule, covering a couple quick segue scenes, an involved fight scene, and three re-shoots.
Three hours in and we were well behind schedule, and very little could resolve our lag from that point forward. Our crew was short several members that made last week's shoot run so smoothly: our new production assistances were out of town, the sound guy had a paying gig in Orlando that took precedence, and one would suppose our assistant sound guy had better things to do.
Due to scheduling restrictions, an overall demanding day on our make-up specialist, and other considerations, I had one of our re-shoots scheduled first thing. Maybe that's one of the reasons things went so sluggishly for the first half of the day.
There's something about re-shooting a scene that reminds me of this quote from the live Joni Mitchell record Miles of Aisles. Mind you, this is during the early-70s when musicians were far more accessible and lifeless arenas hadn't overtaken the concert tour, and a certain intimacy still existed with famous musicians.
Between tunes several of the audience members are blurting out songs they want to hear, which inspires Joni to compare the performing arts to being a painter. The point that I always remember is something like: you can't tell VanGogh to paint A Starry Night again.
I kind of got the same vibe going back to a scene that was executed particularly well some weeks ago. Going back is overkill when hindsight teaches you nothing new, and you're almost Gus van Sant guiding yourself through "Psycho".
We went back for one small reason. It was something I feel the average viewer wouldn't pay any mind to, and something a more expensive movie production could have fixed in post.
This is the footing our day got started on, so it was only inevitable that I would have to call off several of our actors by an hour at a time. One actor's call time got pushed so deep into the evening that we cancelled with him entirely.
Eventually, we got to the scene that took us the rest of the night. By which, I mean we wrapped set around 5AM Sunday morning. There's something special, and almost predictable, about spending that much time with people that it is the fodder of the better reality television and sociology 101.
For the most part I think we all connected in new ways, but predictably people together so long also get on each others nerves. People get tired, but certain people also get funnier.
To me, it's thrilling to be a part of a group of people driven and dedicated enough to stick it out late into the night.
We had intended to capture a couple reasonably complicated and important scenes over three evenings this past week.
The little wind that could of Tropical Whatever Alberto was still unpredictable enough on Monday night that we decided to cancel our Tuesday shoot. The decision to scrub the other two nights was a result of what happens when only a couple people are consistently focused on a project: some oversights made us ill-prepared to make those scenes happen.
The production gathered again at 9:30AM on Saturday morning ready but not necessarily willing to tear through a rigorous schedule, covering a couple quick segue scenes, an involved fight scene, and three re-shoots.
Three hours in and we were well behind schedule, and very little could resolve our lag from that point forward. Our crew was short several members that made last week's shoot run so smoothly: our new production assistances were out of town, the sound guy had a paying gig in Orlando that took precedence, and one would suppose our assistant sound guy had better things to do.
Due to scheduling restrictions, an overall demanding day on our make-up specialist, and other considerations, I had one of our re-shoots scheduled first thing. Maybe that's one of the reasons things went so sluggishly for the first half of the day.
There's something about re-shooting a scene that reminds me of this quote from the live Joni Mitchell record Miles of Aisles. Mind you, this is during the early-70s when musicians were far more accessible and lifeless arenas hadn't overtaken the concert tour, and a certain intimacy still existed with famous musicians.
Between tunes several of the audience members are blurting out songs they want to hear, which inspires Joni to compare the performing arts to being a painter. The point that I always remember is something like: you can't tell VanGogh to paint A Starry Night again.
I kind of got the same vibe going back to a scene that was executed particularly well some weeks ago. Going back is overkill when hindsight teaches you nothing new, and you're almost Gus van Sant guiding yourself through "Psycho".
We went back for one small reason. It was something I feel the average viewer wouldn't pay any mind to, and something a more expensive movie production could have fixed in post.
This is the footing our day got started on, so it was only inevitable that I would have to call off several of our actors by an hour at a time. One actor's call time got pushed so deep into the evening that we cancelled with him entirely.
Eventually, we got to the scene that took us the rest of the night. By which, I mean we wrapped set around 5AM Sunday morning. There's something special, and almost predictable, about spending that much time with people that it is the fodder of the better reality television and sociology 101.
For the most part I think we all connected in new ways, but predictably people together so long also get on each others nerves. People get tired, but certain people also get funnier.
To me, it's thrilling to be a part of a group of people driven and dedicated enough to stick it out late into the night.
11 June 2006
mood swing?
previously published by me elsewhere:
The new glow that has overtaken the production this weekend has revealed something to me. Even though we were getting a lot of strong footage shot, and we were all doing our jobs satisfactorily, there was a certain malaise that had set in.
It's unfortunate, but sometimes you spend so much time with a particular something that it gets stale and just plain boring. It becomes like a relationship you know is on the outs, and you loathe dealing with anymore. It becomes a do or die situation of breaking yourself off from it, or finding some way to reinvigorate it.
Have we found our "Kama Sutra", so to speak, or was this weekend just a fluke?
The new glow that has overtaken the production this weekend has revealed something to me. Even though we were getting a lot of strong footage shot, and we were all doing our jobs satisfactorily, there was a certain malaise that had set in.
It's unfortunate, but sometimes you spend so much time with a particular something that it gets stale and just plain boring. It becomes like a relationship you know is on the outs, and you loathe dealing with anymore. It becomes a do or die situation of breaking yourself off from it, or finding some way to reinvigorate it.
Have we found our "Kama Sutra", so to speak, or was this weekend just a fluke?
fire starter
previously published by me elsewhere:
My friend with the two names came up to work on the movie with us this weekend.
I had first met her when she posted a call for writer's submissions for a stage sketch show back in the summer of 2004. I sent out several good ones to be considered, and one I was still developing as a means to pad the pile. Unfortunately there was some trouble casting several of my sketches, so only one was ultimately performed. Even though one of the actors kept mincing my lines, watching that performance was a real treat, and a reminder about the creative energy exuded through collaboration.
Long story short, my friend also happens to act, so back in March when we were in need of someone to play a somewhat embittered middle-aged woman, I knew who to turn to. What are friends for, right? Yes, judging them to be both embittered and middle-aged in the same sentence!
It was actually quite comforting to bring her out for yesterday's shoot, since some sort of miracle has befallen our dear set. For the first time since we started we had many of our main actors on set, and a complete crew. We have been struggling with several occasions without our sound guy, or without our make-up guy, and our trusty production assistant for the first two months of production is currently out of the country.
There was something really special about yesterday's shoot in my opinion. Maybe we didn't get through our record-breaking five pages in a day, and maybe we had to take a pre-emptive strike against certain scenes, but one thing I got from the experience was a definitive reminder of why I decided to make movies as my life.
Whatever sort of machine metaphors can be put together to explain how the whole filmmaking process works would likely express what was happening yesterday. We have all developed a rhythm of working together.
This is something that was sorely lacking on the previous project I worked on. Since that shoot took place across so much time, there was very little occasion to genuinely connect, except in the way of familiar strangers who might meet at a reunion, let's say.
It's awkward and uncomfortable for a while, and then everyone gets drunk.
My friend with the two names came up to work on the movie with us this weekend.
I had first met her when she posted a call for writer's submissions for a stage sketch show back in the summer of 2004. I sent out several good ones to be considered, and one I was still developing as a means to pad the pile. Unfortunately there was some trouble casting several of my sketches, so only one was ultimately performed. Even though one of the actors kept mincing my lines, watching that performance was a real treat, and a reminder about the creative energy exuded through collaboration.
Long story short, my friend also happens to act, so back in March when we were in need of someone to play a somewhat embittered middle-aged woman, I knew who to turn to. What are friends for, right? Yes, judging them to be both embittered and middle-aged in the same sentence!
It was actually quite comforting to bring her out for yesterday's shoot, since some sort of miracle has befallen our dear set. For the first time since we started we had many of our main actors on set, and a complete crew. We have been struggling with several occasions without our sound guy, or without our make-up guy, and our trusty production assistant for the first two months of production is currently out of the country.
There was something really special about yesterday's shoot in my opinion. Maybe we didn't get through our record-breaking five pages in a day, and maybe we had to take a pre-emptive strike against certain scenes, but one thing I got from the experience was a definitive reminder of why I decided to make movies as my life.
Whatever sort of machine metaphors can be put together to explain how the whole filmmaking process works would likely express what was happening yesterday. We have all developed a rhythm of working together.
This is something that was sorely lacking on the previous project I worked on. Since that shoot took place across so much time, there was very little occasion to genuinely connect, except in the way of familiar strangers who might meet at a reunion, let's say.
It's awkward and uncomfortable for a while, and then everyone gets drunk.
08 June 2006
territorial pissings
previously published by me elsewhere:
We have stumbled through our trouble-filled production since the middle of March by shooting footage exclusively on weekends. Due to any number of circumstances, the least of which is the fact that we've been shooting this thing since the middle of March, we had our first evening shoot tonight.
There's always something off-putting about attempting to squeeze in a little bit of movie-making over the course of a three hour span. Full day weekend shoots are something everyone seems to look forward to, whereas the weeknights feel more like an inconvenience.
It becomes glaringly obvious that none of us are free from other responsibilities on the outside of what we are all so damn passionate about. Giving up most of our precious few hours to unloading and reloading equipment, waiting for the actors to come out of make-up, and the like, makes for an anti-climactic experience.
The focus is completely different, and the energy level is very low. There's something invigorating about spending every waking hour on the set, allowing the day to go through waves of inspiration, exhaustion, and finally delirium. True genius and creativity seems to thrive in this sort of space.
So, we spent our brief, rather uninteresting shoot in the men's room of the engineering building on campus. A public facility of this sort presents many drawbacks, the least of which is sound quality, which will be one of the first warnings out of an audiophile's mouth. It's a public restroom, and therefore not the best place to cozy up to a nearby wall, even if it keeps you from getting in a shot chock full of mirror.
We have stumbled through our trouble-filled production since the middle of March by shooting footage exclusively on weekends. Due to any number of circumstances, the least of which is the fact that we've been shooting this thing since the middle of March, we had our first evening shoot tonight.
There's always something off-putting about attempting to squeeze in a little bit of movie-making over the course of a three hour span. Full day weekend shoots are something everyone seems to look forward to, whereas the weeknights feel more like an inconvenience.
It becomes glaringly obvious that none of us are free from other responsibilities on the outside of what we are all so damn passionate about. Giving up most of our precious few hours to unloading and reloading equipment, waiting for the actors to come out of make-up, and the like, makes for an anti-climactic experience.
The focus is completely different, and the energy level is very low. There's something invigorating about spending every waking hour on the set, allowing the day to go through waves of inspiration, exhaustion, and finally delirium. True genius and creativity seems to thrive in this sort of space.
So, we spent our brief, rather uninteresting shoot in the men's room of the engineering building on campus. A public facility of this sort presents many drawbacks, the least of which is sound quality, which will be one of the first warnings out of an audiophile's mouth. It's a public restroom, and therefore not the best place to cozy up to a nearby wall, even if it keeps you from getting in a shot chock full of mirror.
07 June 2006
no rain
previously published by me elsewhere:
My brother-in-law has this manner of recounting stories that frequently makes me second guess almost every word. I suppose there's a lilt in his voice that assumes, behind that lecturers tone, he's actually telling a joke. Truthfully it happens more often than he retells the same basic quip everyone's tired of hearing except him.
Since my sister's family just relocated to our lovely state capital, he felt the urge to share with me some memories of attending Florida State as an undergrad. Specifically he was talking about some period of time when the burgeoning film department was located somewhere within the football stadium.
It seems two worlds collided one day during a break between classes when all of the arty film students stood there in their Misfits t-shirts smoking their Marlboros, while the machismo football team tried to play within the ever-developing black cloud.
This past Sunday marked one year since the first day of production for a local movie that seems to have fizzled out, very likely to never be heard from again. There's something about all of those memories of frequent smoke breaks for everyone involved but two or three of us that makes me wonder if I really can relate to either of those groups supposedly brought together on that field.
I guess there are plenty of assumptions about what you're likely to get from an artistic person. It's likely why the government likes to cut spending on the arts. God help them if their children grow up to be a fuckin' bum with no discernible direction in life, to say little of a pension plan.
Though I've never really gotten into the Misfits music, and I pretty much quit smoking before finishing off a pack, I still am one of those misguided tortured souls driven down that dead end road.
At least what's at the other end is by no means lonely.
My brother-in-law has this manner of recounting stories that frequently makes me second guess almost every word. I suppose there's a lilt in his voice that assumes, behind that lecturers tone, he's actually telling a joke. Truthfully it happens more often than he retells the same basic quip everyone's tired of hearing except him.
Since my sister's family just relocated to our lovely state capital, he felt the urge to share with me some memories of attending Florida State as an undergrad. Specifically he was talking about some period of time when the burgeoning film department was located somewhere within the football stadium.
It seems two worlds collided one day during a break between classes when all of the arty film students stood there in their Misfits t-shirts smoking their Marlboros, while the machismo football team tried to play within the ever-developing black cloud.
This past Sunday marked one year since the first day of production for a local movie that seems to have fizzled out, very likely to never be heard from again. There's something about all of those memories of frequent smoke breaks for everyone involved but two or three of us that makes me wonder if I really can relate to either of those groups supposedly brought together on that field.
I guess there are plenty of assumptions about what you're likely to get from an artistic person. It's likely why the government likes to cut spending on the arts. God help them if their children grow up to be a fuckin' bum with no discernible direction in life, to say little of a pension plan.
Though I've never really gotten into the Misfits music, and I pretty much quit smoking before finishing off a pack, I still am one of those misguided tortured souls driven down that dead end road.
At least what's at the other end is by no means lonely.
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