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.
30 May 2006
road trippin'
previously published by me elsewhere:
Whew! I just got back from Jacksonville, having gone with the director of our movie to check out a hospital for our shoot. This would resolve our location needs for about a dozen or so scenes.
Unfortunately our cinematographer was busy, but we took a bunch of digital pictures, that capture everything except the chilly air and funky hospital smell, and should assist with making our decision.
Things seemed somewhat uncertain at the start of the trip when I was picked up from the blistering heat in a vehicle with the windows rolled down and with no air conditioning on. It wasn't until several miles out of town that she turned on the air, and rolled up the windows, saying she sometimes forgets she has a/c. I don't get it.
Overall the trip itself was a good one, with the expected discussion of a whole flurry of films and future projects. What really struck me was how much we talked about normal stuff.
I had come to realize that we knew very little about each other on a personal level and coincidentally this whole untapped conversation route presented itself. It was very interesting, and I suddenly feel like I can relate to her in our business associations in new ways. Cool.
After we arrived and passed by the security desk, we were greeted by a man who was talking our ear off about things that didn't seem to relate to our general reason for being there. I was thinking for a while that he actually thought we were someone else.
It took quite a bit of time before his ramblings segued into something resembling movie talk. By this point it started to seem as if he was pitching us his movie ideas, in a "couldn't hurt" sort of fashion.
The one thing that really hit me about this guy was how enthusiastic he was about everything medical. It's nice to see people find their true calling, and make the most of it.
Although we have some logistics to work out for getting our cast and crew up to the location for a couple of weekends during June, things seem reasonably positive.
On the negative end, the man did warn that we NEED to have security escort us outside after dark due to this place being in a "dangerous" part of town.
I have to wonder at what risk it is worth a good location.
Whew! I just got back from Jacksonville, having gone with the director of our movie to check out a hospital for our shoot. This would resolve our location needs for about a dozen or so scenes.
Unfortunately our cinematographer was busy, but we took a bunch of digital pictures, that capture everything except the chilly air and funky hospital smell, and should assist with making our decision.
Things seemed somewhat uncertain at the start of the trip when I was picked up from the blistering heat in a vehicle with the windows rolled down and with no air conditioning on. It wasn't until several miles out of town that she turned on the air, and rolled up the windows, saying she sometimes forgets she has a/c. I don't get it.
Overall the trip itself was a good one, with the expected discussion of a whole flurry of films and future projects. What really struck me was how much we talked about normal stuff.
I had come to realize that we knew very little about each other on a personal level and coincidentally this whole untapped conversation route presented itself. It was very interesting, and I suddenly feel like I can relate to her in our business associations in new ways. Cool.
After we arrived and passed by the security desk, we were greeted by a man who was talking our ear off about things that didn't seem to relate to our general reason for being there. I was thinking for a while that he actually thought we were someone else.
It took quite a bit of time before his ramblings segued into something resembling movie talk. By this point it started to seem as if he was pitching us his movie ideas, in a "couldn't hurt" sort of fashion.
The one thing that really hit me about this guy was how enthusiastic he was about everything medical. It's nice to see people find their true calling, and make the most of it.
Although we have some logistics to work out for getting our cast and crew up to the location for a couple of weekends during June, things seem reasonably positive.
On the negative end, the man did warn that we NEED to have security escort us outside after dark due to this place being in a "dangerous" part of town.
I have to wonder at what risk it is worth a good location.
27 May 2006
communication breakdown
previously published by me elsewhere:
There's a particular aspect of independent filmmaking I got to thinking about during the shoot today. Sometimes the things we do are like some sort of a sociological experience gone wild.
While taking the rare deep breath, and swig of bottled water, I looked around at the general goings-on and I was somewhat fascinated. Not just because things have developed in my life the way my twelve-year-old self would have them, but because we were spending our day in a stairwell. It's damn fascinating to see ten people spending twelve hours in a place few would be caught dead in. What might that cop who quietly passed through have been thinking?
Sometimes it's as if time stops, and you're Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day", living each moment again and again until you get it right. But, of course, the actual takes, and literally shooting the film are just a small portion of what can be called moviemaking.
Much of the rest is made up of various sorts of communication. There's often a lot of focus put on communicating with actors, since they're often seen as substantially different than other human beings, and they all have their "special" little ways of making the magic happen.
I've found that sometimes, on the set, we forget that everyone has their own way of communicating and perceiving what's going down. We're all basically the same regardless of title, or likewise interpreted importance. Today was such a day.
There was a certain amount of tension being felt today, due to a general lack of communication that has developed into this little tumor on our production that has been ignored for far too long.
As one of the main heads of production, it's become glaringly obvious that at least one of our triumvirate, if you will, is always in the dark at any given time.
I'd like to think that the core issue is a general assumption that three people of a similar mindset don't always need to speak about every little detail. Perhaps there's a space for non-vocalized communication in this setup.
As much as I'd like to, I don't know if I buy that, though.
There's a particular aspect of independent filmmaking I got to thinking about during the shoot today. Sometimes the things we do are like some sort of a sociological experience gone wild.
While taking the rare deep breath, and swig of bottled water, I looked around at the general goings-on and I was somewhat fascinated. Not just because things have developed in my life the way my twelve-year-old self would have them, but because we were spending our day in a stairwell. It's damn fascinating to see ten people spending twelve hours in a place few would be caught dead in. What might that cop who quietly passed through have been thinking?
Sometimes it's as if time stops, and you're Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day", living each moment again and again until you get it right. But, of course, the actual takes, and literally shooting the film are just a small portion of what can be called moviemaking.
Much of the rest is made up of various sorts of communication. There's often a lot of focus put on communicating with actors, since they're often seen as substantially different than other human beings, and they all have their "special" little ways of making the magic happen.
I've found that sometimes, on the set, we forget that everyone has their own way of communicating and perceiving what's going down. We're all basically the same regardless of title, or likewise interpreted importance. Today was such a day.
There was a certain amount of tension being felt today, due to a general lack of communication that has developed into this little tumor on our production that has been ignored for far too long.
As one of the main heads of production, it's become glaringly obvious that at least one of our triumvirate, if you will, is always in the dark at any given time.
I'd like to think that the core issue is a general assumption that three people of a similar mindset don't always need to speak about every little detail. Perhaps there's a space for non-vocalized communication in this setup.
As much as I'd like to, I don't know if I buy that, though.
24 May 2006
predictable hokum
previously published by me elsewhere:
There seems to be so much stirring up inside me right now that I can't think where exactly to start. I know it's the general curse of a storyteller to determine when to introduce the story, and when to decide that the story is over. Sometimes that takes up more time than writing the damn thing.
From a suggestion by a couple of friends I have jumped on this bandwagon, and joined up at the trend that is myspace.com. I tend to steer clear of trends, or that's at least what I'd like to believe. Yet here I am, adding to the useless drivel that clogs the internet, and serving it up on the new devil music for teens space of choice: my.
As much as I have likened it to newspeak, ala 1984, I have even started to post these "blogs" on a fairly regular basis. I feel I am quickly becoming a far less private person than the sort I have perfected being for many years. Sure, I know I can select my readership, but for some masochistic reason I choose not to. There's something exciting about sharing with whoever cares to read, but then again it also makes me feel rather exposed. So, I'm undecided on the matter.
Sometimes I feel like I have to really contemplate each phrase to ensure I am not insulting someone who might stumble upon my site, and to ensure whoever reads it doesn't start to judge my overall writing ability. In that light, recently I was called verbose by a friend of mine. To me it was rather an insult, but only because I'm well aware of my failings. I'm reminded of a professor I had in college who referred to one of my pieces as overwrought. Look it up, it's not positive either. So the hell what - I like words!
So, this myspace thing has diverted far from my expectations. I still think my prediction that a lot of people use it for bootycalls is appropriate, but there's a whole other side to it that I have recently tapped into. It also has the potential to reunite people in a very controlled reunion type environment. I have actually gotten back in touch with some people who I fully expected would never re-enter my life. Ever.
But I do think there's a certain amount of it all that really gets my mind churning. I just keep looking around at people, whether old acquaintances or complete strangers, and everything that they'll share here about themselves, whether writing, pictures, or lists of interests. I think a lot of people just want to matter.
There's something that's really gotten me while looking at all of this collected life in pictures, and such. I'm reminded of "Wonder Boys", an under-appreciated film. There's a scene with Katie Holmes and Michael Douglas alone in his study, talking about how his 3,000 page book represents making no noticable choices.
I look at those pictures of all of those places people live, or have visited, or of activities they like to fill their weekend with. And I think again about choices, and I'm reminded of how little life we really get.
Don't worry, I'm really fuckin' far away from preaching that old carpe diem crap here. Okay?
But, anyway, there's something very elementary school about the whole matter. "If you choose to play in the block area, then you're not using the finger paints today." That shit never lets up, does it? If you decide to visit the Grand Canyon, you might never see the Eiffel Tower (financial figures aside, of course).
Choice.
Its about putting stuff in just as much as it is about leaving something out. Most of the time I find myself focusing every waking moment on something related to my career choice, whether it's writing scenes, networking with on-line colleagues, mapping out a shooting schedule, researching, or innumerable other things, even to the point of infringing on regular life. I think most people spend their whole careers trying to break in, paying dues, and honestly taking everything and anything that comes along.
You know, sometimes it would be nice if the right choice could be "no".
There seems to be so much stirring up inside me right now that I can't think where exactly to start. I know it's the general curse of a storyteller to determine when to introduce the story, and when to decide that the story is over. Sometimes that takes up more time than writing the damn thing.
From a suggestion by a couple of friends I have jumped on this bandwagon, and joined up at the trend that is myspace.com. I tend to steer clear of trends, or that's at least what I'd like to believe. Yet here I am, adding to the useless drivel that clogs the internet, and serving it up on the new devil music for teens space of choice: my.
As much as I have likened it to newspeak, ala 1984, I have even started to post these "blogs" on a fairly regular basis. I feel I am quickly becoming a far less private person than the sort I have perfected being for many years. Sure, I know I can select my readership, but for some masochistic reason I choose not to. There's something exciting about sharing with whoever cares to read, but then again it also makes me feel rather exposed. So, I'm undecided on the matter.
Sometimes I feel like I have to really contemplate each phrase to ensure I am not insulting someone who might stumble upon my site, and to ensure whoever reads it doesn't start to judge my overall writing ability. In that light, recently I was called verbose by a friend of mine. To me it was rather an insult, but only because I'm well aware of my failings. I'm reminded of a professor I had in college who referred to one of my pieces as overwrought. Look it up, it's not positive either. So the hell what - I like words!
So, this myspace thing has diverted far from my expectations. I still think my prediction that a lot of people use it for bootycalls is appropriate, but there's a whole other side to it that I have recently tapped into. It also has the potential to reunite people in a very controlled reunion type environment. I have actually gotten back in touch with some people who I fully expected would never re-enter my life. Ever.
But I do think there's a certain amount of it all that really gets my mind churning. I just keep looking around at people, whether old acquaintances or complete strangers, and everything that they'll share here about themselves, whether writing, pictures, or lists of interests. I think a lot of people just want to matter.
There's something that's really gotten me while looking at all of this collected life in pictures, and such. I'm reminded of "Wonder Boys", an under-appreciated film. There's a scene with Katie Holmes and Michael Douglas alone in his study, talking about how his 3,000 page book represents making no noticable choices.
I look at those pictures of all of those places people live, or have visited, or of activities they like to fill their weekend with. And I think again about choices, and I'm reminded of how little life we really get.
Don't worry, I'm really fuckin' far away from preaching that old carpe diem crap here. Okay?
But, anyway, there's something very elementary school about the whole matter. "If you choose to play in the block area, then you're not using the finger paints today." That shit never lets up, does it? If you decide to visit the Grand Canyon, you might never see the Eiffel Tower (financial figures aside, of course).
Choice.
Its about putting stuff in just as much as it is about leaving something out. Most of the time I find myself focusing every waking moment on something related to my career choice, whether it's writing scenes, networking with on-line colleagues, mapping out a shooting schedule, researching, or innumerable other things, even to the point of infringing on regular life. I think most people spend their whole careers trying to break in, paying dues, and honestly taking everything and anything that comes along.
You know, sometimes it would be nice if the right choice could be "no".
23 May 2006
in waves
previously published by me elsewhere:
One of the many life or film-related quotes I keep posted on the bulletin board in my office, as a collection of clarity, I came across in one of those books of interviews with directors. It's something Wim Wenders (Wings of Desire) told Allison Anders (Gas Food Lodging) about filmmaking: The production always reflects what the film is about.
Surprisingly to me, this has actually rung reasonably true with some of the projects I have had the most involvement with. For example:
One of my scripts I have made a number of attempts to get produced deals thematically with the cyclical nature of life, and how certain things only comes in waves. Interestingly to me the development of the script, and the interest in it, has also come with similar brief intensity - again and again. Perhaps the nature of the beast.
The movie that recently wrapped took place in and around the teachers at a school, and dealt for the most part with the dread of going back to the grind day-after-day under overwhelming odds. As time wore on, this same feeling was felt by all involved, as we ended up shooting the movie over the course of a full school year, under hardly the best of conditions.
And finally there's the current show. I recently put it together under this same guide - almost by accident. I like to draw connections between things, and sometimes my conclusions are a stretch, but bear with me here. We have had several troubles with keeping locations, and have dealt with many a locked door (whether figurative or literal). What's the main connecting device between our scenes, and an important factor to a main plot point in the story: entrances and exits. What do you know about that?
One of the many life or film-related quotes I keep posted on the bulletin board in my office, as a collection of clarity, I came across in one of those books of interviews with directors. It's something Wim Wenders (Wings of Desire) told Allison Anders (Gas Food Lodging) about filmmaking: The production always reflects what the film is about.
Surprisingly to me, this has actually rung reasonably true with some of the projects I have had the most involvement with. For example:
One of my scripts I have made a number of attempts to get produced deals thematically with the cyclical nature of life, and how certain things only comes in waves. Interestingly to me the development of the script, and the interest in it, has also come with similar brief intensity - again and again. Perhaps the nature of the beast.
The movie that recently wrapped took place in and around the teachers at a school, and dealt for the most part with the dread of going back to the grind day-after-day under overwhelming odds. As time wore on, this same feeling was felt by all involved, as we ended up shooting the movie over the course of a full school year, under hardly the best of conditions.
And finally there's the current show. I recently put it together under this same guide - almost by accident. I like to draw connections between things, and sometimes my conclusions are a stretch, but bear with me here. We have had several troubles with keeping locations, and have dealt with many a locked door (whether figurative or literal). What's the main connecting device between our scenes, and an important factor to a main plot point in the story: entrances and exits. What do you know about that?
21 May 2006
deaf dj
previously published by me elsewhere:
Maybe I should have spent less time Saturday morning contemplating looking for windows to break and enter through and more time doing so. As we discovered out of necessity at the end of today's shoot, at least one window on the dark side of the building was unlocked and just asking for entry.
I came to discover from an early morning call from our director that one of the doors to our location was now open. So, after we "gathered the troops", as I once heard it referred, we were on-set and rolling through a couple scenes.
The dynamic changes drastically whenever a different mixture of people is on set. There's a different energy, and certain aspects of today's shoot really clicked and there was an overall good rapport and energy between everyone, but unfortunately certain things were lacking as well, be they key people or basic equipment.
Sometimes, and most especially on independent movie sets, ingenuity takes over and things seem to fall into place. At times, and maybe this happened today, the results are better since we had to make due, had to make it up on the spot, or had to toss heavy loads of duct tape on just about everything under the sun to make it sit still.
Although we really pulled through against a certain amount of challenges today on the movie, nothing quite compares to the one I worked on that wrapped on Friday night.
We went through that entire shoot with only three crew members. If everyone wasn't juggling ten different items, and balancing twelve different tasks during every take, something was truly amiss.
Ah, nothing quite like the little time!!
Maybe I should have spent less time Saturday morning contemplating looking for windows to break and enter through and more time doing so. As we discovered out of necessity at the end of today's shoot, at least one window on the dark side of the building was unlocked and just asking for entry.
I came to discover from an early morning call from our director that one of the doors to our location was now open. So, after we "gathered the troops", as I once heard it referred, we were on-set and rolling through a couple scenes.
The dynamic changes drastically whenever a different mixture of people is on set. There's a different energy, and certain aspects of today's shoot really clicked and there was an overall good rapport and energy between everyone, but unfortunately certain things were lacking as well, be they key people or basic equipment.
Sometimes, and most especially on independent movie sets, ingenuity takes over and things seem to fall into place. At times, and maybe this happened today, the results are better since we had to make due, had to make it up on the spot, or had to toss heavy loads of duct tape on just about everything under the sun to make it sit still.
Although we really pulled through against a certain amount of challenges today on the movie, nothing quite compares to the one I worked on that wrapped on Friday night.
We went through that entire shoot with only three crew members. If everyone wasn't juggling ten different items, and balancing twelve different tasks during every take, something was truly amiss.
Ah, nothing quite like the little time!!
20 May 2006
without warning
previously published by me elsewhere:
Like a literal metaphor for the hurdles of getting through the proverbial doorway into the "real" film industry, the five of us local indie folk stood there locked out of this weekend's location.
And don't think I didn't consider checking for unlocked windows, or testing my own skills at breaking and entering, either. Desperation often yields surprising results, and thought directions.
In many ways it's not so much getting knocked behind schedule yet again that gnaws at me. The other side of that locked entranceway represents something more to me.
Although still dealing with voluntary and deferred payment type positions, it's still a job to me and unlike every other I've ever had I look forward to doing it, so a scrub brings about a fair amount of disappointment.
For this current movie's production, it's certainly not the first bout either. We've dealt with one setback after another, worthy of one of those truly Hollywood movies about people overcoming great odds.
There have been: less than dependable people involved on either side of the camera, who have flaked out on us; hard to cast roles, still unfilled several weeks into production; false leads on major locations, some as far as 300 miles away; loss of promised locations, requiring re-shoots; sickness overtaking main actors and crew; as well as serious equipment trouble, necessitating nearly three weeks hiatus from production. And I'm sure I've skipped a bunch.
And in a lot of ways, the capitalistic roots of this country and, to a degree, this business come to mind. The money factor has been in my mind for many years.
My path to film started in the writing department, as I spent many years focusing on writing scripts, and developing stories.
One day it occurred to me that I couldn't have been drawn to a more expensive art form. It seemed to me that painters or sculptors or musicians or whoever else could get their materials together with more ease and less expense than what I could in essence birth with pen and paper but could pretty much do nothing with until I broke into Fort Knox.
So, I wonder, would all of these things really be solved with more cash flow? Or it is just an excuse?
Like a literal metaphor for the hurdles of getting through the proverbial doorway into the "real" film industry, the five of us local indie folk stood there locked out of this weekend's location.
And don't think I didn't consider checking for unlocked windows, or testing my own skills at breaking and entering, either. Desperation often yields surprising results, and thought directions.
In many ways it's not so much getting knocked behind schedule yet again that gnaws at me. The other side of that locked entranceway represents something more to me.
Although still dealing with voluntary and deferred payment type positions, it's still a job to me and unlike every other I've ever had I look forward to doing it, so a scrub brings about a fair amount of disappointment.
For this current movie's production, it's certainly not the first bout either. We've dealt with one setback after another, worthy of one of those truly Hollywood movies about people overcoming great odds.
There have been: less than dependable people involved on either side of the camera, who have flaked out on us; hard to cast roles, still unfilled several weeks into production; false leads on major locations, some as far as 300 miles away; loss of promised locations, requiring re-shoots; sickness overtaking main actors and crew; as well as serious equipment trouble, necessitating nearly three weeks hiatus from production. And I'm sure I've skipped a bunch.
And in a lot of ways, the capitalistic roots of this country and, to a degree, this business come to mind. The money factor has been in my mind for many years.
My path to film started in the writing department, as I spent many years focusing on writing scripts, and developing stories.
One day it occurred to me that I couldn't have been drawn to a more expensive art form. It seemed to me that painters or sculptors or musicians or whoever else could get their materials together with more ease and less expense than what I could in essence birth with pen and paper but could pretty much do nothing with until I broke into Fort Knox.
So, I wonder, would all of these things really be solved with more cash flow? Or it is just an excuse?
19 May 2006
302 days
previously published by me elsewhere:
"The end is near" is one of those stereotypical chants of the loony old bald guys hanging out on the corner in Anywhere, USA. I can assure you, the end is most assuredly here, but not the end that might be associated with that phrase.
There's often something unsettling about things coming to a close. A certain relief stirred in with a fair amount of disappointment. It's just this natural reaction, because what endings mean is change, and change is really difficult to swallow. No matter what!
With every ending comes a little death, but not necessarily closure. Most of the time a bit of unresolved feelings just hang out there, left to dangle forever. So, that's what's going on right about now.
Like death, however, it'll probably take a few days to sink in. In this case, it'll have to hit that obligations are nil, commitment levels can edge back to zero, and a certain footnote in my life is over.
The movie shoot that would not quit has finally quit, and we're all a bit older, maybe a touch wiser, and certainly out a few bucks.
Should that be satisfying? Was that the art? The art of the process of filmmaking.
Should it be more fulfilling since it took so long to complete the principal photography? Or, on the other hand, does it become art when someone actually sees something one can refer to as a movie?
I've just gotta hope some of the art rests with the process. That's what makes the most sense to me.
You know, if the outlook becomes grim for the future of the picture as a whole we all still got together and made ... something.
"The end is near" is one of those stereotypical chants of the loony old bald guys hanging out on the corner in Anywhere, USA. I can assure you, the end is most assuredly here, but not the end that might be associated with that phrase.
There's often something unsettling about things coming to a close. A certain relief stirred in with a fair amount of disappointment. It's just this natural reaction, because what endings mean is change, and change is really difficult to swallow. No matter what!
With every ending comes a little death, but not necessarily closure. Most of the time a bit of unresolved feelings just hang out there, left to dangle forever. So, that's what's going on right about now.
Like death, however, it'll probably take a few days to sink in. In this case, it'll have to hit that obligations are nil, commitment levels can edge back to zero, and a certain footnote in my life is over.
The movie shoot that would not quit has finally quit, and we're all a bit older, maybe a touch wiser, and certainly out a few bucks.
Should that be satisfying? Was that the art? The art of the process of filmmaking.
Should it be more fulfilling since it took so long to complete the principal photography? Or, on the other hand, does it become art when someone actually sees something one can refer to as a movie?
I've just gotta hope some of the art rests with the process. That's what makes the most sense to me.
You know, if the outlook becomes grim for the future of the picture as a whole we all still got together and made ... something.
holding grudges
previously published by me elsewhere:
I feel like someone experiencing his third act character arc, and I can't fathom where it all came from. I feel I've overcome something without knowing I was even trying. Who's this person standing on the other side of my mirror these days?
I've become so fuckin' honest about everything. I've never been some cheap ass liar by anyone's assessment, but suddenly I'm saying all the shit I'd probably have kept to myself before. The veil covering my distaste of things going on in my life is fraying.
I thought I'd been in control of it before, even if in some sort of anti-hero fashion, but I know now I have fully taken the reins of my own life. Or at the very least, taken them back.
Sometimes you spend so much time helping other people groom their lives, or at the very least their egos, and you forget to look at yourself and what it's all doing to you.
It's not selfish, it's survival, especially in the movie business. Or unfortunately where I sometimes feel I am, which is in the pursuit of it, or some filmic variation of "playing house" in grade school, long before getting married.
As similar as many of the elements of what I'm currently involved with are to the real deal, sometimes you can't help feeling it's just a bloody dress rehearsal.
I feel like someone experiencing his third act character arc, and I can't fathom where it all came from. I feel I've overcome something without knowing I was even trying. Who's this person standing on the other side of my mirror these days?
I've become so fuckin' honest about everything. I've never been some cheap ass liar by anyone's assessment, but suddenly I'm saying all the shit I'd probably have kept to myself before. The veil covering my distaste of things going on in my life is fraying.
I thought I'd been in control of it before, even if in some sort of anti-hero fashion, but I know now I have fully taken the reins of my own life. Or at the very least, taken them back.
Sometimes you spend so much time helping other people groom their lives, or at the very least their egos, and you forget to look at yourself and what it's all doing to you.
It's not selfish, it's survival, especially in the movie business. Or unfortunately where I sometimes feel I am, which is in the pursuit of it, or some filmic variation of "playing house" in grade school, long before getting married.
As similar as many of the elements of what I'm currently involved with are to the real deal, sometimes you can't help feeling it's just a bloody dress rehearsal.
18 May 2006
blogged down
previously published by me elsewhere:
There's certain subject matter that doesn't quite warrant an e-mail, a phone call, a notation on the dry erase board on the fridge, or even a personal journal entry.
It's the sort of conversation barely worth the breath, or the words. It's the minutia of life. The elements of one's lunch, the contents of one's mailbox, or the details of one's workday that can more easily be referred to under the heading of "same old, same old".
There's certain subject matter that doesn't quite warrant an e-mail, a phone call, a notation on the dry erase board on the fridge, or even a personal journal entry.
It's the sort of conversation barely worth the breath, or the words. It's the minutia of life. The elements of one's lunch, the contents of one's mailbox, or the details of one's workday that can more easily be referred to under the heading of "same old, same old".
For this, we have created the type of forum you're scanning through right now. A safe haven for people who like to hear themselves speak, but don't really care if someone is listening.
17 May 2006
the point
previously published by me elsewhere:
[THESE BLOGS USED TO EXIST ON MYSPACE AND I WROTE THIS IN RESPONSE TO THAT NETWORKING SITE]
I'm a statistic! I've done it. I've become a joiner. Even worse, I've joined this perverse society well known to all of you reading this: myspace.com...
I only recently started perusing this site having been guided here on a whim by a real live friend, earned the old-fashioned way. Now I'm here, and all of the sudden there is more time to waste than ever before.
There seems to be several distinct reasons for people to enter this surprisingly populated subculture. The one that was most obvious to me was evident from the first glance I got a peek at a random selection of pictures.
Folks are looking for a fuck buddy, whether on a temporary or permanent basis really doesn't matter. We'll just go ahead and call it a "relationship".
You know, there's something off-putting about collecting all of your "friends" in one place like this. It becomes almost competitive, like trying to fill up your high school yearbook with signatures, phone numbers, and messages whose sheer length and size of font often determined the seriousness of the relationship.
Then there are the watchers. The people with so few bits of personal information listed, or outrageously exaggerated ages, or what have you, that you know they just signed up to take a closer look at those of us willing to say something, or open up in some fashion.
Is this simply a microcosm of society I was bound to stumble into, or some governments' attempt at recreating a corrupted database that had no back-up?
Whatever the case, I'm here, exploiting this modern technology that gives voices to more people, but always runs the risk of leading more to prop themselves up on a soapbox.
Oh, well.
[THESE BLOGS USED TO EXIST ON MYSPACE AND I WROTE THIS IN RESPONSE TO THAT NETWORKING SITE]
I'm a statistic! I've done it. I've become a joiner. Even worse, I've joined this perverse society well known to all of you reading this: myspace.com...
I only recently started perusing this site having been guided here on a whim by a real live friend, earned the old-fashioned way. Now I'm here, and all of the sudden there is more time to waste than ever before.
There seems to be several distinct reasons for people to enter this surprisingly populated subculture. The one that was most obvious to me was evident from the first glance I got a peek at a random selection of pictures.
Folks are looking for a fuck buddy, whether on a temporary or permanent basis really doesn't matter. We'll just go ahead and call it a "relationship".
You know, there's something off-putting about collecting all of your "friends" in one place like this. It becomes almost competitive, like trying to fill up your high school yearbook with signatures, phone numbers, and messages whose sheer length and size of font often determined the seriousness of the relationship.
Then there are the watchers. The people with so few bits of personal information listed, or outrageously exaggerated ages, or what have you, that you know they just signed up to take a closer look at those of us willing to say something, or open up in some fashion.
Is this simply a microcosm of society I was bound to stumble into, or some governments' attempt at recreating a corrupted database that had no back-up?
Whatever the case, I'm here, exploiting this modern technology that gives voices to more people, but always runs the risk of leading more to prop themselves up on a soapbox.
Oh, well.
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