"Looking Into Bars"
"A Love Letter and Molly's Face"
"San Francisco: A Love Letter and also Molly's Face"
"Most Of These Rocks Have faces"
"Earthquakes"
"More People Die From Freezing"
"The Things I didn't Film"
"The Things I didn't Film Because I was too Afraid"
"The Things I didnt Film Because i was too Afraid to Stand Where I Needed to Stand, with the Camera where it needed to be in order to film what i should have and wanted to film"
Beth says: "and maybe that will never change. Maybe you will always be afraid to film and maybe you will do it anyway. maybe you don't have to change the way you feel about it in order to change it."
Monday, March 28, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Song
"Ill Try Anything Once" by The Strokes has caused me to begin stargazing. Twice I've sat in a corner of the parking lot behind my dorm, wasting gas on the radio and the heat, listening to The Strokes saying "you like music we can dance to. Sit me down, shut me up."
I put my chin on the steering wheel and wait for shooting stars, composing inside my head, countless variations of a scene, scored by that song, in which a character, sits in their car and sings along to that song, staring at stars.
Sometimes I decide that the character, usually a twenty year old boy, begins to cry.
Often there is somewhere that he really needs to be but he is hiding, in a corner of a parking lot or pulled over on the side of a desolate forest-lined road.
He turns around to the backseat where there is an assortment of clothing and books and a toothbrush. He stuffs these things into a backpack and, turning off the car, cutting off the song mid-verse he leaves. He shoulders his pack and walks off into the trees, following no visible path, slowly loosing focus, snapping twigs.
I put my chin on the steering wheel and wait for shooting stars, composing inside my head, countless variations of a scene, scored by that song, in which a character, sits in their car and sings along to that song, staring at stars.
Sometimes I decide that the character, usually a twenty year old boy, begins to cry.
Often there is somewhere that he really needs to be but he is hiding, in a corner of a parking lot or pulled over on the side of a desolate forest-lined road.
He turns around to the backseat where there is an assortment of clothing and books and a toothbrush. He stuffs these things into a backpack and, turning off the car, cutting off the song mid-verse he leaves. He shoulders his pack and walks off into the trees, following no visible path, slowly loosing focus, snapping twigs.
Look, my socks match.
There was a blackout on campus and there were creepy flood lights all over. the one in this picture shone right in my dorm room window. It was pretty far away but still gave our room the feeling that the moon was right outside.
flashlights and forties
John's hat. John's gun. In a photo that John took.
Another photo that John took.
There was a blackout on campus and there were creepy flood lights all over. the one in this picture shone right in my dorm room window. It was pretty far away but still gave our room the feeling that the moon was right outside.
flashlights and forties
John's hat. John's gun. In a photo that John took.
Another photo that John took.
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