Lost my wallet at some point this evening. Didn't realize it until I walked into a cafe to buy something to take to class for dinner and didn't have it. I was about to go look for it when someone asked me to read for their film, so I stayed and did that...priorities, I suppose: I want to work on a film. It's a comedy, too. I hope he keeps me. Hopefully, I left the wallet locked up somewhere. Nothing I can do about it now, though I did check to see if the card had been used, it hadn't.
I've been thinking about the film we shot, and, "Oh, I shoulda' thought about this," or "worked out what happened," "the why of some other thing." I should write them down, so I try to remember to do it next time. There's a lot to think about, such as having the lines down, and delivering them like an actual human speaking in real life, and trying to figure out what I thought about what the other character was saying, how I felt about him, etc., and then the physical aspects of it. I have to get used to making choices and internalizing faster. Theatre has a luxury of a little more time to work on the character and relationships to the world and other characters. Film's just quicker, especially if you're working with little or no budget.
At any rate, the short films for the festival screen this Friday. Have only seen the trailer. I'm curious, excited to see it...hope I don't suck (although, there is something to learn from that, even.)
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Tuesday
The energy was strange today, somewhat aggressive in the latter half of the day. Started out fine enough, although, all of the bus routes to my neighborhood have changed, and that combined with all the construction zones, I feel like I'm navigating a new city. And then tonight, trying to figure out the quickest way to get to rehearsal, the transit system website kept giving me information for an hour previous, i.e., I typed the request after 6 pm, trying to arrive by 7 pm, and it gave me an arrival time at my destination for 5:24 pm. I got lucky with the bus I caught this morning, there wasn't a schedule for it, but it did end up where I wanted to go (it's a new route.) Managed to make it to rehearsal on time, but not everyone showed up, not sure what happened. We couldn't get ahold of him. Anyway, we didn't end up rehearsing.
Saw yet another new doctor, this one for a second opinion I should have had a while ago. She talked with me for a long time; I've needed to talk to someone since last summer; the first opinion doctor had scared me, and I've had anxiety (regarding cancer risk) for months. I mean I think the risk was low, but the aggressiveness of the follow-up freaked me out (those two things didn't jive); and not knowing left other things in limbo, which are somewhat resolved now. I just have to get through the other two, but I feel better about that at least. (Avoidance wasn't my only reason for waiting, I wanted insurance to pay, and I wanted to see if changing things in my diet and life would help, and I had to wait for that and other reasons.)
Ended up at the Odd Fellows Cafe again, three times in the past two weeks, after not going stepping a foot in there for at least a couple of years. It's because I'm in the neighborhood a lot lately, it's on the way to the bus stop, or now, the light rail. And I don't tend to crave biscuits or jam, but keep finding myself ordering theirs. They're really good.
The rest of the day was convoluted, and frustrating. I was actually relishing hating things to myself (things I was finding pretentious, jargon, bureaucracy, my existence being called into question and with that, the legitimacy of my actually being able to do my job, etc...) not something I usually let myself do, or actually, not something I usually want to do. I figured it was better than taking it out on someone.
My camera has been goofy. I don't think it likes working any more, though sometimes if I take the batteries out and move their positions it will let me take a picture.
Here's a tree, or two. I'm gonna go eat the rest of the biscuit.
Saw yet another new doctor, this one for a second opinion I should have had a while ago. She talked with me for a long time; I've needed to talk to someone since last summer; the first opinion doctor had scared me, and I've had anxiety (regarding cancer risk) for months. I mean I think the risk was low, but the aggressiveness of the follow-up freaked me out (those two things didn't jive); and not knowing left other things in limbo, which are somewhat resolved now. I just have to get through the other two, but I feel better about that at least. (Avoidance wasn't my only reason for waiting, I wanted insurance to pay, and I wanted to see if changing things in my diet and life would help, and I had to wait for that and other reasons.)
Ended up at the Odd Fellows Cafe again, three times in the past two weeks, after not going stepping a foot in there for at least a couple of years. It's because I'm in the neighborhood a lot lately, it's on the way to the bus stop, or now, the light rail. And I don't tend to crave biscuits or jam, but keep finding myself ordering theirs. They're really good.
The rest of the day was convoluted, and frustrating. I was actually relishing hating things to myself (things I was finding pretentious, jargon, bureaucracy, my existence being called into question and with that, the legitimacy of my actually being able to do my job, etc...) not something I usually let myself do, or actually, not something I usually want to do. I figured it was better than taking it out on someone.
My camera has been goofy. I don't think it likes working any more, though sometimes if I take the batteries out and move their positions it will let me take a picture.
Here's a tree, or two. I'm gonna go eat the rest of the biscuit.
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| Things with trees, March 28/L Herlevi 2016 |
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| Shadow, March 28/L Herlevi, 2016 |
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| Now the sun arrives as the blossoms depart, March 2/L Herlevi 2016 |
Friday, March 25, 2016
Friday
Spending my time walking through other people's days. Took the day off because I thought I would get the shot in my hand, but the doc decided against it for now. Removed all trace of me from the schedule so I wouldn't get charged for the visit. This man is so kind he makes me cry. There are people who go into medical professions to really hear the people they serve, and to partner with them in their well-being, as opposed to bully or paternalize: he's one of the former. (My first RA doctor was a bully, for the record, and as I wasn't allowed a different doctor at that particular hospital, I switched hospital systems. Maybe it was "tough love," but I've never found that to work for me. Getting bad news already leaves you shell-shocked, your life not being what you thought it would, and you have to gather yourself and reimagine yourself and your future and the implications...that's hard enough without being bullied to make decisions you aren't ready to make. Sure they have to do their job, but I'm still a human being, an individual, not something to check off a list. Not a metric.)
Anyway, was going to try to make a matinee of "Ran" but ended up going to the "First Folio" exhibit at the library instead because it was relatively quiet. Ran into a classmate on the elevator, thumbed through a local portrait book of artists/writers/art supporters, wrote letters, ran into another friend at the bus stop, and by the time I got home, most of the day had passed: I have to be at singing rehearsal in a couple of hours. It's Good Friday, a heavy singing committment, as is Easter. We are still doing the long song I really don't like (and I guess that seems to be a theme for others), just have to find the meditation in it, I believe that's why we sing it. Try to stay present and not let my mind wander all over (it's just very long and monotonous.) As a consolation, I love two of the other songs we sing, so I guess they are the reward for getting through this one.
Thought I heard a swallow singing in a foyer yesterday afternoon. When I went to look, it flew. The voice was familiar, a long cadence echoing against the stone, though no clicking (which they do.) Another sign of changing seasons. Also, billowing towers of insects illuminated in the light of the setting sun: that's recent as well. (And some mosquito-like insects are currently plastered against my window. They can't come in.)
And came home to personal mail (for Easter from my parents, and a congrats on working on the film from my sister.) And finally met my new housemate, he lives across the hall from me, and though he's been here almost a month, I hadn't actually run into him. We keep different hours.
It is so quiet now.
Must remember to put my dress on properly this year (no more sideways, though, I'm not sure I could figure out how to do that again if I tried.) A couple of random pictures (perfecting my "bigfoot" walk here.)
Anyway, was going to try to make a matinee of "Ran" but ended up going to the "First Folio" exhibit at the library instead because it was relatively quiet. Ran into a classmate on the elevator, thumbed through a local portrait book of artists/writers/art supporters, wrote letters, ran into another friend at the bus stop, and by the time I got home, most of the day had passed: I have to be at singing rehearsal in a couple of hours. It's Good Friday, a heavy singing committment, as is Easter. We are still doing the long song I really don't like (and I guess that seems to be a theme for others), just have to find the meditation in it, I believe that's why we sing it. Try to stay present and not let my mind wander all over (it's just very long and monotonous.) As a consolation, I love two of the other songs we sing, so I guess they are the reward for getting through this one.
Thought I heard a swallow singing in a foyer yesterday afternoon. When I went to look, it flew. The voice was familiar, a long cadence echoing against the stone, though no clicking (which they do.) Another sign of changing seasons. Also, billowing towers of insects illuminated in the light of the setting sun: that's recent as well. (And some mosquito-like insects are currently plastered against my window. They can't come in.)
And came home to personal mail (for Easter from my parents, and a congrats on working on the film from my sister.) And finally met my new housemate, he lives across the hall from me, and though he's been here almost a month, I hadn't actually run into him. We keep different hours.
It is so quiet now.
Must remember to put my dress on properly this year (no more sideways, though, I'm not sure I could figure out how to do that again if I tried.) A couple of random pictures (perfecting my "bigfoot" walk here.)
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| We were young |
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| Last evening on the Quad, March 24/L Herlevi 2016 |
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Rehearsal
Been bumping into my past a lot lately, somewhat awkward, but not necessarily bad.
And I know it's a small thing in a chaotic world, but this director/writer I'm working with right now is a dream director for actors; I'd work with him again in a heartbeat. He knows what his vision is, he communicates it well, and he's focused, uses the time well. And I think the directors coming out of this film program are all gonna be good. They know how to work with actors, and that's not as common a thing as you'd think. They listen. What you can give to an actor is blocking, motivation (discuss it with them), and an action, one action at a time. You can't act an emotion or a vague concept, you can want something, need something, do something to get it, and emotions flow out of that. You walked in believing one thing, and found a different one altogether; what does that do to you? How do you adjust to get what you want?
Creation of film or theatre is a collaborative process. No one is any more important than anyone else, not in the larger frame of things. We're all better for the recognition of that. It elevates everyone.
And between this, the Shakespeare, and the other film project, everything I've learned is starting to click, I'm instinctively beginning to do the type of work I want to be doing...maybe I can do this.
And I know it's a small thing in a chaotic world, but this director/writer I'm working with right now is a dream director for actors; I'd work with him again in a heartbeat. He knows what his vision is, he communicates it well, and he's focused, uses the time well. And I think the directors coming out of this film program are all gonna be good. They know how to work with actors, and that's not as common a thing as you'd think. They listen. What you can give to an actor is blocking, motivation (discuss it with them), and an action, one action at a time. You can't act an emotion or a vague concept, you can want something, need something, do something to get it, and emotions flow out of that. You walked in believing one thing, and found a different one altogether; what does that do to you? How do you adjust to get what you want?
Creation of film or theatre is a collaborative process. No one is any more important than anyone else, not in the larger frame of things. We're all better for the recognition of that. It elevates everyone.
And between this, the Shakespeare, and the other film project, everything I've learned is starting to click, I'm instinctively beginning to do the type of work I want to be doing...maybe I can do this.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Thursday
Well, two down. Both new doctors (for me), and both exceptionally kind, but have to schedule a scope of my stomach, as soon as I find a ride. Also, getting a cortisone shot in my wrist, he was incredibly understanding about pain reduction. Have a dentist appointment next week, hopefully, nothing unexpected out of that.
Went to The Oddfellows Cafe after and ate breakfast, needed to calm down all that instinctual fear that rises up and screams out warning signals before going back into work. (I find the anxiety about the future worse than actually dealing with the thing, and I've decided I've been anxious for so long, I need to face it.) It's a good people watching place, and I like the space, a large box, full windows on one side, sunlight streaming in, high ceilings, Irish music playing beneath the din of indistinguishable voices that reminded me of flocks of birds. It was crowded. I ate my food, all the while eavesdropping on the next table's conversation (something about teaching social justice.)
Walked out to catch a bus, only to realize the nearest stops are gone, so walked half-way down Broadway to find one; the bus I needed pulling up just as I got there. A good morning for a walk, the air quickly warming from an earlier chill.
Our script is going through a revision, but we sat and discussed our characters and motivations last night, and I like the collaborative feeling of the project, that it's a partnership and not a one-man show. All of us could easily be caricatures, but I think we all want to be as truthful as possible, to find the humanity there. That is the job of an actor.
A former choir director wrote me a long email inviting me to check out an early version of a performance project she's working on. The gruff department manager always picks up my mail for me when I'm not here. Our custodian retired last week after 31 years on the job, I went to her retirement luncheon, her colleagues made all the food for it, which was delicious. I mentioned that to one of her co-workers, and she told me she'd stayed up all night making food, because she was her friend. And then we received flowers yesterday, from the one who retired. I'm happy for her, it's a hard and thankless job most of the time, but I will miss her. I like her. Just never know how you touch someone else's life.
Went to The Oddfellows Cafe after and ate breakfast, needed to calm down all that instinctual fear that rises up and screams out warning signals before going back into work. (I find the anxiety about the future worse than actually dealing with the thing, and I've decided I've been anxious for so long, I need to face it.) It's a good people watching place, and I like the space, a large box, full windows on one side, sunlight streaming in, high ceilings, Irish music playing beneath the din of indistinguishable voices that reminded me of flocks of birds. It was crowded. I ate my food, all the while eavesdropping on the next table's conversation (something about teaching social justice.)
Walked out to catch a bus, only to realize the nearest stops are gone, so walked half-way down Broadway to find one; the bus I needed pulling up just as I got there. A good morning for a walk, the air quickly warming from an earlier chill.
Our script is going through a revision, but we sat and discussed our characters and motivations last night, and I like the collaborative feeling of the project, that it's a partnership and not a one-man show. All of us could easily be caricatures, but I think we all want to be as truthful as possible, to find the humanity there. That is the job of an actor.
A former choir director wrote me a long email inviting me to check out an early version of a performance project she's working on. The gruff department manager always picks up my mail for me when I'm not here. Our custodian retired last week after 31 years on the job, I went to her retirement luncheon, her colleagues made all the food for it, which was delicious. I mentioned that to one of her co-workers, and she told me she'd stayed up all night making food, because she was her friend. And then we received flowers yesterday, from the one who retired. I'm happy for her, it's a hard and thankless job most of the time, but I will miss her. I like her. Just never know how you touch someone else's life.
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| Watching, March 16/L Herlevi 2016 |
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| Sheltering, March 16/L Herlevi 2016 |
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Middle of it all
Nine rehearsal/acting things over six days this week, I guess that's how you get better. Had two tonight, and two on Thursday. We didn't get to our scene last night, but did the monologues, we will do a mock audition with them next week. My center of gravity has crept up again, I think I must be in my head too much, and also, I'm afraid of falling and hurting myself: guarding, I suppose. Need to do something about that, it's affecting my work, my characters need to move more freely (or in the case of the monologue, move at all.) Thinking about animals, and which one might the character move like...tried one for the Lady M tonight, haven't decided on the other.
Went over the new film script. I have no lines in this version. Normally, I'd find that difficult, but it's an interesting character, and probably easy to find an action for her, so I'm feeling connected and grounded in the scene.
Also, reading "Station Eleven" by Emily St. John Mandel. It's my current bus read. Very engaging; she's a really good writer. I have to finish it soon, as there is a wait list for it, so I can't renew it. I'd seen a friend's review of it. It's about a post-pandemic world, where modern civilization has collapsed, and small groups of people remain here and there. The main character is an actress with a travelling caravan of musicians and actors that move from town to town, the caravan itself being home. It goes forward to the post-collapsed world, and then backward to the time before, following the life of an actor and his associates in ealier days. I'm about half-way through. (Reminds me a lot of "Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play," by Anne Washburn, which I've mentioned previously when it played at ACT. It has a similar feel, where people are survivng on memories, and how memory becomes apochryphal over time. A world of danger, where you don't know who you can trust.)
Finally dealing with all these health things in the next couple of weeks. Nervous, but I guess it's better to know. (And I don't feel like being chastised, which is the bigger dread.)
Went over the new film script. I have no lines in this version. Normally, I'd find that difficult, but it's an interesting character, and probably easy to find an action for her, so I'm feeling connected and grounded in the scene.
Also, reading "Station Eleven" by Emily St. John Mandel. It's my current bus read. Very engaging; she's a really good writer. I have to finish it soon, as there is a wait list for it, so I can't renew it. I'd seen a friend's review of it. It's about a post-pandemic world, where modern civilization has collapsed, and small groups of people remain here and there. The main character is an actress with a travelling caravan of musicians and actors that move from town to town, the caravan itself being home. It goes forward to the post-collapsed world, and then backward to the time before, following the life of an actor and his associates in ealier days. I'm about half-way through. (Reminds me a lot of "Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play," by Anne Washburn, which I've mentioned previously when it played at ACT. It has a similar feel, where people are survivng on memories, and how memory becomes apochryphal over time. A world of danger, where you don't know who you can trust.)
Finally dealing with all these health things in the next couple of weeks. Nervous, but I guess it's better to know. (And I don't feel like being chastised, which is the bigger dread.)
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Out of the Blue
Worked on my first film where I had a speaking role this weekend. It was for a local film festival; a friend I had reconnected with last fall contacted me last week to ask if I wanted to do it. I had hesitated, first because I didn't feel ready, and then second, because she told me who the other actor was and I was worried because I think he's really good. This was a horrible weekend to shoot outside, which the entire film was, the weather was awful. A big windstorm blew through most of today with intermittent rain, and it was cold. And since we shot out of sequence yesterday, and it all takes place the same day, could only wear what I wore yesterday, which wasn't nearly enough (though someone brought me a blanket for between takes.) Both days I came home and stood under the running hot water of the shower until I stopped shivering (about 20 minutes.) There were things like gear dropping in dog shit, and then moments of synchronicity (someone being in the right place at the right time; running a line while walking a trail where the term "bigfoot" is used only to look up and see a sign for bigfoot - I don't know why.) Managing to get the shots in just before it started to pour (we got lucky, a lot.) And having a neighbor of a location who probably came out to check on what we were doing, but instead ended up telling the other actor and myself the history of the location we were in, and also of Vashon Island after the war (WWII.) Things I probably would never have known, and that were interesting. And we were able to connect rather than have a confrontation. And then just hanging out at one of the locations, a relative of the filmmaker's house, and feeling like it was a place where we were absolutely welcomed, not tolerated, but embraced (as strangers), and a parade of neighbors popping in with fresh coffee cake (as we were finishing a lunch break), and a loaf of bread, and then lots of people willing to help out. This openness, something I remember from growing up, but is something that has been lacking in my life as an adult as of late. And I miss it.
It was a fantastic experience. I hope the acting was okay. I'm humbled and grateful that she asked me to be a part of it.
It was a fantastic experience. I hope the acting was okay. I'm humbled and grateful that she asked me to be a part of it.
Friday, March 11, 2016
Friday
Days should sometimes have "re-start." Again, it's a long series of piddly things, but a never-ending series of piddly things that are taking so much longer to correct that would be warranted. And you can be as clear as possible, and still somehow the words are misconstrued, and so something relatively simple, drags on and on. And there has been a lot going on this week.
And also, I just hurt (physically.) Not sure if it was something I ate earlier in the week... both hands hurt, back is getting worse, added a second spot (yay!) Went to a chiropractor, followed by a masseuse, who really dug into all the sore places (and told me to ice, which I did), including the deep hip muscles, psoas, (which helped, I think.) Then acupuncture this morning, and she hit a lung point in my arm, causing me to kick up my opposite leg, and slam my foot back down on the table, and then sob for 10 minutes (when I was fine the moment before.) I suppose it released something (lung points are related to grief), but I don't know what, no thoughts or memories surfaced connected to it. Maybe I don't need to know.
And it's tough. In many ways this week has been fantastic, I suppose it's all the extremes, and not a lot of neutral. We saw our edits of "Hedda" which in some ways were painful, but also good to see how we looked on film, and to get feedback on what we need to change (our group didn't get the "acting Ibsen" comment, I don't think the first group did either, but neither group opted for time period, we didn't because neither of the women had the right clothes), but most of us got "show less", which might be different from stage simply because the camera isn't right in your face, and I got the "pushing" comment again (to be forcing a reaction), which was funny, as I actually felt in the moment, that I was honestly reacting to my scene partners; I felt authentic...oh, well, something to continue to work on. And then something about our blocking (at times) being predictable...so, yeah, cringe-worthy at times, but fun. All the feedback is useful, if there is nothing said, there's nothing to learn, and you'll never improve. And at all stages, you can always improve. And now working on two other projects, have the script for one (and need to memorize it tonight), and will have the other Monday or Tuesday. And Shakespeare is going good, though I have more reading to do for that, as well. (And as an aside, I was reading the Arden for "Macbeth," and there was a period of performance where it had basically become a musical, with songs and dances involving the witches, and the witches kept multiplying, and the play got too long, so dialogue was cut elsewhere. And then directors kept promising to get back to the original text, but inevitably, the witches, and the music numbers kept encroaching...I'm very amused by this, I was cracking up while reading it, mostly because the description was in the middle of, otherwise, dry text.
It was beautifully sunny, and warm, this morning, but now the rains have returned. Fifteen inches above normal for the rainy season. Bricks are shifting, and the cement tiles near the freeway entrance that my bus took this morning is cordoned off with flagging tape marked "Danger!" The cement blocks buckling and sliding down in the mud. They've been there for years.
The cherry trees are almost in full bloom at the University; the crowds have arrived. The rain is not much deterrence. I think they are earlier than last year, perhaps by a week?
And someone left a plate of cheese out on the counter: cheese is my weakness.
Oh, and somehow did not make it through the day without falling into snark, a parting shot (and completely inappropriate)...lord.
And also, I just hurt (physically.) Not sure if it was something I ate earlier in the week... both hands hurt, back is getting worse, added a second spot (yay!) Went to a chiropractor, followed by a masseuse, who really dug into all the sore places (and told me to ice, which I did), including the deep hip muscles, psoas, (which helped, I think.) Then acupuncture this morning, and she hit a lung point in my arm, causing me to kick up my opposite leg, and slam my foot back down on the table, and then sob for 10 minutes (when I was fine the moment before.) I suppose it released something (lung points are related to grief), but I don't know what, no thoughts or memories surfaced connected to it. Maybe I don't need to know.
And it's tough. In many ways this week has been fantastic, I suppose it's all the extremes, and not a lot of neutral. We saw our edits of "Hedda" which in some ways were painful, but also good to see how we looked on film, and to get feedback on what we need to change (our group didn't get the "acting Ibsen" comment, I don't think the first group did either, but neither group opted for time period, we didn't because neither of the women had the right clothes), but most of us got "show less", which might be different from stage simply because the camera isn't right in your face, and I got the "pushing" comment again (to be forcing a reaction), which was funny, as I actually felt in the moment, that I was honestly reacting to my scene partners; I felt authentic...oh, well, something to continue to work on. And then something about our blocking (at times) being predictable...so, yeah, cringe-worthy at times, but fun. All the feedback is useful, if there is nothing said, there's nothing to learn, and you'll never improve. And at all stages, you can always improve. And now working on two other projects, have the script for one (and need to memorize it tonight), and will have the other Monday or Tuesday. And Shakespeare is going good, though I have more reading to do for that, as well. (And as an aside, I was reading the Arden for "Macbeth," and there was a period of performance where it had basically become a musical, with songs and dances involving the witches, and the witches kept multiplying, and the play got too long, so dialogue was cut elsewhere. And then directors kept promising to get back to the original text, but inevitably, the witches, and the music numbers kept encroaching...I'm very amused by this, I was cracking up while reading it, mostly because the description was in the middle of, otherwise, dry text.
It was beautifully sunny, and warm, this morning, but now the rains have returned. Fifteen inches above normal for the rainy season. Bricks are shifting, and the cement tiles near the freeway entrance that my bus took this morning is cordoned off with flagging tape marked "Danger!" The cement blocks buckling and sliding down in the mud. They've been there for years.
The cherry trees are almost in full bloom at the University; the crowds have arrived. The rain is not much deterrence. I think they are earlier than last year, perhaps by a week?
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| Cherry Blossom, March 7/L Herlevi 2016 |
Oh, and somehow did not make it through the day without falling into snark, a parting shot (and completely inappropriate)...lord.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Sunday
Just finished our Kalevala Day event (a week late.) Sang "Oma Maa" by Sibelius; I actually made it to a few rehearsals, and so sang. I'm glad: I love this piece of music (one of my favorite things I've ever sung.) We had instrumentalists today, so really the first time we were all together was this morning. I hear it went well, the balance was good, won't get to sing it again for a while. Anyway, now we have a month off (and I'm still in Shakespeare for the rest of March.)
We filmed the "Hedda" scenes on Wednesday, and didn't do any make up, so that's done, too. It'll be edited, and everyone will see them on Wednesday. I'd been having a rough day prior to the filming, and by the time we shot I was punchy, saying off-hand remarks to people and having fits of laughing. Also, because of theatre/clown/travel, I've taken to changing my clothes publically...I just don't care anymore. (I was like that in my early 20's as well.) I mention this because I did it earlier today, and realized maybe I shouldn't; but it's hard to put these dresses on in a tiny toilet stall.
I finally started to go through the boxes again, found a bunch of old cassette tapes, many of them mixed tapes, and not in the right cases. I used to give them to people all the time, and borrow music, apparently, not sure where I got half these songs. They are from late 80's to mid 90's. Everything is in disarray, but I did get rid of one of the musty smelling boxes, at least.
We're in between rain storms, nature is breaking out in flower. It was well into the 60's yesterday.
I need to write, write. Saw two films last weekend, "The Serpent's Embrace," and "Only Yesterday," both of which left me with a lot to think about: how the smallest of actions have repercussions, what happens when the stories die?, the idea of feral vs wild (and how once you lose wild, you can not gain back what was lost; the stories contained are gone, what is left, what can be resown, is at best an approximation, the context and history slowly lost with each passing sowing, with each generation), how our lives are shaped by seemingly small encounters, how we can misinterpret things and how that will color how we react and how we view ourselves (without ever having a sounding board to tell us otherwise), among others. "Only Yesterday," (Studio Ghibli), while animated, is definitely not a children's film, it's like a mid-life crisis (though the character is 27, I believe, so perhaps a Saturn return). There's really no plot, and no happy ending, though it's realistic, and brutally honest. It was sad and refreshing at the same time. We are who we are, and maybe we can figure out why. Perhaps what we say we want isn't really what we want afterall, and how do we face up to that?
I don't know why I put off writing so much. Why I put off the things I say I want, want to do...what would be so hard in starting? And yet I don't, not much, not lately. The effort feels more than I can muster.
Oh! Sudden lightening and thunder, out of nowhere, almost right above the house.
We filmed the "Hedda" scenes on Wednesday, and didn't do any make up, so that's done, too. It'll be edited, and everyone will see them on Wednesday. I'd been having a rough day prior to the filming, and by the time we shot I was punchy, saying off-hand remarks to people and having fits of laughing. Also, because of theatre/clown/travel, I've taken to changing my clothes publically...I just don't care anymore. (I was like that in my early 20's as well.) I mention this because I did it earlier today, and realized maybe I shouldn't; but it's hard to put these dresses on in a tiny toilet stall.
I finally started to go through the boxes again, found a bunch of old cassette tapes, many of them mixed tapes, and not in the right cases. I used to give them to people all the time, and borrow music, apparently, not sure where I got half these songs. They are from late 80's to mid 90's. Everything is in disarray, but I did get rid of one of the musty smelling boxes, at least.
We're in between rain storms, nature is breaking out in flower. It was well into the 60's yesterday.
I need to write, write. Saw two films last weekend, "The Serpent's Embrace," and "Only Yesterday," both of which left me with a lot to think about: how the smallest of actions have repercussions, what happens when the stories die?, the idea of feral vs wild (and how once you lose wild, you can not gain back what was lost; the stories contained are gone, what is left, what can be resown, is at best an approximation, the context and history slowly lost with each passing sowing, with each generation), how our lives are shaped by seemingly small encounters, how we can misinterpret things and how that will color how we react and how we view ourselves (without ever having a sounding board to tell us otherwise), among others. "Only Yesterday," (Studio Ghibli), while animated, is definitely not a children's film, it's like a mid-life crisis (though the character is 27, I believe, so perhaps a Saturn return). There's really no plot, and no happy ending, though it's realistic, and brutally honest. It was sad and refreshing at the same time. We are who we are, and maybe we can figure out why. Perhaps what we say we want isn't really what we want afterall, and how do we face up to that?
I don't know why I put off writing so much. Why I put off the things I say I want, want to do...what would be so hard in starting? And yet I don't, not much, not lately. The effort feels more than I can muster.
Oh! Sudden lightening and thunder, out of nowhere, almost right above the house.
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