Saturday, March 27, 2010

Making the Monster

im typing on my white mac keys with black fingers... ive been making a monster.
a huge black monster with hands where its eyes should be.
and angel wings... white feathers hot glued to chicken wire attached on hinges to a harness that looks like a gun holster.
im making a movie...
the movie is about a play.
my main character is the costume designer/ creature designer for the play.
the character/ the filmmaker (heh me) makes these creatures and brings them to the theater and the actors try on their wings and devil horns and yeah....

i ran out of hot glue so i have to wait to get a ride to AC more the get more.
i really need to learn to drive.
i used to say i didnt need a license because i got along so well with my parents that i could always ride int eh car with them... that was a stupid thing to say.
because now im nineteen and i dont have a license and i need more hot glue.

"and i do believe its true that there are roads left in both of our shoes and if the silence takes you then i hope it takes me too."
im listening to last years playlists on my computer. because i havent been on this computer in like a year because ive had my lap top at school with me...

"i want to float higher above waves of electric wire and stare down onto the street. i see you drunk with cute glazed eyes. telling me about the girl i should meet someday."

Monday, March 22, 2010


This morning i woke up and my window- which is bigger than the average dorm room window- because this room used to a be lounge- so the window is the whole wall- the window was all white.
Copmletely white with fog. i couldnt see the other square brick dorm across teh quad. i couldnt see anything but the branches of the tree that is right outside the glass.
and then i sat a up a little more and i could just barely make out the outline of the building across the quad and the tress across the quad and now i can look down and see the grass...
and i wish it were all white again.
i like being nowhere.

i wrote a story a million years ago (like three or four years ago) it was about a girl named Danya who lived in The Mist. The Mist seperated two halves of an island and the people on one half, the warm half, dont know that the people on the other half, the cold half, exist. and vice versa.

Danya is the only one who goes back and forth because she is the only one who knows that there is another side of the island and she is the only one who knows how to get through the mist. as far as the people are concerned the mist is one end of the world and the sea is the other half.

This is the story, or the introduction to the story. I never wrote more than an introduction. i didnt care what happened my worlds i just created them and set down the realities and characters and rules... Then lost interest.
I Wrote this when i was fifteen. i know that because the girl in the story is fifteen.... enjoy.

To the south the River Folk are stirring and stepping out onto the beach, the children are bathing in the warm ocean laughing and splashing each other in the pink rays of the sunrise.
To the north the people of ice and snow, the Grenyens, are reawakening the last nights fires and shivering in the never ending cold. The sun does not shine on them, it is hidden behind the grey clouds which promises more snow before the day is out.
A thin barrier of mist is all the separates the to different countries, the are in fact part of the same island that, if traversed in a very straight line, would take no more then three weeks to cross on foot. But the people know nothing of each other.
Within the mists there is nothing, nothing but swirling whiteness, and in the precise middle of the fog, a sleeping fifteen year old girl.
She is the only one, as far as she knows, to move between the countries. She sleeps on the ground with no shelter and no blanket but the mist, the ground feels like snow and water, and ice and sand, not warm or cold. She sleeps with her head on her arms and her legs curled close to her body.
Her hair is black and curling like that of the river folk, her hair is the only thing that seems solid about her.
Her skin is the bright white of the mist and like that of the Grenyens, and her shift is of the lightest white silk similar to those worm by the River folk but they wear their’s decorated and in the most beautiful colors.
There is no shift in light or any animal call to mark to coming of the morning, but Danya knows and she is awake.
She stands and looks around. Hanging around her neck is a tiny silver compass, though she never looses her bearings the compass is a nessasary precaution in a world where nothing looks the same from day to day.
Kneeling next to the spot where she was sleeping she places a hand on the ground and finds a thin rope of what looks like solid gass or liquid metal, she pulls it up and a trap door opens at her feet. She slips inside and closes the door quickly after her, so that the mist cannot fill the cave.
Inside hanging on the walls are clothes from every island she has visted. She steps out of the white shift and hangs it on an empty hook.
She stands naked before the many garments thinking which she should wear and where she should visit today.
She decides on the river folk and slips into their small shirt a flowing skirt of blue cotton. She also takes the furs of the north and places them in a bag for later.
She leaves the cave and secures the trap door. Standing upon it she checks the compass unnessasarily, out of habit, and sets off. She’ll spend the morning in the warm water under palm trees and the afternoon hunting in the snow.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


One of the first times that i fell in love i was fifteen.
He was the keyboard player in the celtic canadian group that sang at the music festival at Green Meadow.
It rained on the festival that year and i was wearing a dark blue dress with a yellow and lighter blue patturn, a tight elastic threaded top and a ruffle around the skirt.
i wasnt wearing a bra, i remember that, because the tight elastic threaded top of the dress was tight and worked like a bra and i was dancing, barefoot in the muddy grass in the rain.
and the bands wernt playing because they were afraid of being electricuted because of the rain.
and the kid, the keyboard playing canadian danced in the mud with me.
at first he didnt want to. I said "dance with me!" and he said that he couldnt get wet because then when he went onstage it would look like he was sweating. And i laughed at that. He was standing under the tent, staying dry
and then
after a little while, of him watching me dance
he danced with me.
and held my hands and spun around.
i remember he was eighteen.
i remember i thought that was way to old to think anything about me, i felt so little.
i remember i thought that he liked me.
i remember when it dawned one me that eighteen year olds were allowed to like fifteen year olds and allowed to dance with them.
and i remember my legs were covered in mud.
and when he went onstage he did look like he was sweating and i felt bad.

and they played the song that i asked them to play. they had done it earlier and i really liked it and asked him if they would do it again. and they did.

and then he left, at the end of the day
and even though i was pretty sure that i would marry him
im not sure about that anymore.
i dont remember his name.
i spose i could google it.
the band is moderately legit now.

Sunny Day On The High Line

"look molly, its simba."

Kid: bla bla..something something.. reshoot... bla bla character.
me: are they talking about film?
john: yeah ive been listening to them for ten minutes
me: are they flim kids?
molly: yeah. NYU. i heard them say NYU
me: (sitting up and looking over) omgod! they all have filmmaker glasses. all of them. all the same glasses!
(they did. one girl and four boys, all the same rectangular thick framed glasses)

me:am i grinding your hip bones into the ground?
molly: i dont really know where my hip bones are right now.

...sunlight is blue.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Today its raining in a misty way and i have no classes and i have to write a screenplay and my garbage smells like rotten rice.

Yesterday Plum, the beta fish that molly bought for her film, died. We came into the soundstage and plum was swimming upside down and then plum stopped swimming and we were sure he was dead and then he started twitching his fins and then we flushed him town the toilet.
And i thought. We could have left Plum anywhere... in the water fountain, on the floor in the hallway...
i thought: fish can only be in water. and about how odd that is and about how id never want to touch a fish in the air but how its okay to carry one in a bowl and about how thin a bowl is and how if i was swimming i wouldnt mind touching a fish.

Tomorrow i will eat the second half of my avocado for breakfast.

Today i ate the first half and i ate pieces of rosemary bread.

Tonight i will have finished my screenplay and sent it to my class so they can read it.

Tonight i will wear pants to sleep so that I'm not cold again.

Last night i was cold.

The screenplay is about a boy who lives in a college town but doesnt go to college.
He's friends with a girl who goes to the college.
He's kind of in love with her but maybe not.
The asignment for the screenplay was "a flaw."
i think my character's flaw is that he doesnt know what he wants to do.
The second half of the asignment, which i am pretending to have forgottan about, is "the worst thing that could happen to a person with this flaw." so put a person into the worst case scenerio for someone who has the flaw that you've given your person...
Worst case scenerio...
actually, it might work.
if my guy's flaw is that he doesnt know what he wants than maybe the worst thing that could happen to him would be that he falls in love with someone who knows what she wants.
i mean, the bigger picuture is that its not the worst thing, that she will actually solve his flaw for him, maybe, help him want things...
but as far as he's converned, from the inside of his flaw, he's pretty content to be where he is and he doesnt want someone pointing out to him that he shouldnt want to be where he is.

Today i will waste 80 feet of 16mm because on saturday i shot only a tiny bit of a roll because im silly. and i have to give the camera back and so i obviously have to take my film out so i have to finish the roll.
im going to film the rain.

Monday, March 8, 2010