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| 06:45pm 20/11/2009 |
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timeline of production:
january 2009: have a conversation with myself in the car while driving to baltimore one night, film self driving, make youtube video out of it, store conversation away
march 2009: start script using ideas from january, start principal photography in portland - fimling in-car cutaways of dashboard
april 2-3 2009: finish script
april 11 2009: lose film equipment and car temporarily, footage permanently
april 2009: move production to greensboro
may 2009: lead actress leaves the country for three months
september-november 2009: four days shooting stretched out over about 2 months
october 22 2009: drop hard drive, lose all captured footage and rough cut
november 19th: finish a final cut, bike home feeling fully afraid for my life or work
this one's eleven minutes:
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| 08:55pm 09/11/2009 |
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i reread my last entry for the first time and found so many grammatical and conceptual errors and underexplained thoughts that i'm a little embarrassed. i don't really have too much on my mind other than i can feel time passing again.
this sort of illustrates the thought:
so, nothing new about this except for the way it will be described:
i was thinking about emily abbott a little bit pretty much only because i've been around her. one week ago exactly, on november second, my birthday, surprise! everyone was suddenly at my house eating fruity pebbles and grape soda. it was very surprising and I didn't expect to see half or really any of them, but really some of the people there were a total shock, but now they all see how I act and dress while at home. emily abbott apologized for getting too high and "just being a lump on your couch" and i said oh whatever. she stayed around until it was just her and her roommate, also emily, and we rode out somewhere and sat in also emily's car for a while just drinking and talking about nothing and listening to the radio. a car passed at one point and abbott warned us that "its a car", which really doesn't come across well in writing but it was nonetheless a hit when it came out of her mouth. she opened the door to get out quickly but it banged into a signpost and i turned around and saw her while the light was on before she slammed the door shut again. she was near hysterics, stuck between laughing and crying. her face had turned red and a tear came up in her right eye, but she was just as instantly calm after the moment passed and she had apologized. we stopped talking when R Kelly came on, and it was dark and cool and i said it was a magical moment and abbott says "mm-hmm!" reflexively, which was so affirming based on how slow and sort of off-target she had been otherwise that night. we got out of the car and walked a block to jazz and, though it was nice, i left earlier than usual because i had a strong urge to play video games.
exactly one night ago we were hanging out again with a bunch of people and the night ended in everyone roughhousing outside on the grass at 3 AM and she and i wrestled for some pointless thing. her best idea was to hit me on the arm a bunch and i out of habit responded with "oohs!" and "aahs!" so she starts saying "yeah! im a good puncher!" whether that's true or false, i'm unbruised today. the night ended in everyone roughhousing and i felt sort of uncomfortable when thinking about writing about it, but why? too old? this is the semi-unconscious governance that i, long ago, semi-unconsciously vowed to fight for the rest of my life. and it was pretty much me that planted the idea in the groups mind anyhow, i'll take credit for it, it was my doing, i can live it, and i can also write it. i told greg abrams to tabletop some dude with me and i kneeled behind this dude and greg pushed him over me. then everyone started doing it. adam katzman jumped onto my back and the same motion he began i finished by flipping him onto the ground and it was amazing. i feel no shame, because this is how we were behaving. ive been thinking two projects into the future and had thoughts of tracking shots in a field, which was boring, then thought people running into the frame, which was pointless, then thought these people are all trying to step on the same spot while running? maybe i can shoot a laser pointer at the ground while im running and they can all try to be the one to step on it the most while running. oh, but this is so juvenile, shouldn't i be like building even larger marble pyramids or constructing my light table finally and seeing what looks good on that or something? somehow my reaction was to see it as a juvenile concept, like i had moved past it already. like this idea that i had is a way i've recorded my behavior before and there's nothing new to be said and furthermore i should forget this idea i just had. nothing new ever to be said, only new ways to say it
am
i
right. i know i haven't experienced the entire periodic table of ideas yet but really. theres only one way to make water and water is delicious.
i'm in my room again drinking all kinds of coffee - cup with cream, cup with a drop of carrot juice, black cup - giving myself another thousand years of solitude to try and work up the urge to read homework.
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| 02:18am 03/11/2009 |
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cool, man
i left my shoes in new york because they were falling apart, but i hung on to them through the wet socks and the smelly socks, through the glass in my feet and all of that. i was DYING walking with my bag through brooklyn, i feel like i permanently damaged my feet because these shoes were so dead but oh well. i feel like im only ever sad about a new year because i don't ever feel like it will measure up well to the past. but im wrong so far i think. 23>22? a lot happened, will more now? age and year, 2010>2009? whats the mathematical symbol for "is different than"? ~? 2009~2008~2007~2006~2005~2004~2003~2002~2001~2000~1999~1998~1997~1996~1995~1994~1993~1992~1991~1990~1989~1988~1987~1986. on the bus up to new york i took a totally auspicious embroidered cross and sewed it to my black sweater. i bought it up at the craft store because i saw potential in it, and the sun came out as we were coming into the city and was reflected by the gold sequins on the cross, hence, signifier of potential and my correct instinct. i lost it the next night like i do everything else i ever own. this was partially because of alcohol, and excitement. i walked all day and then i walked more that night at 5:30 AM with my bag and rotten shoes through brooklyn talking to max about i dont know what. i remember know what, my feet and shoulder were hurting so much all because of my bad shoes and my heavy bag. i dont remember what i talked about that night but the next night was halloween and walking back from alexandras house, max and i talked about roberta and roberta and i talked about art and the suburbs and i talked to alex about the suburbs and alex and max and roberta and i talked about symbols, concepts, objects and actions that contain raw potential, and the dissonance that comes from amassing and owning these and then the harmony that comes from the application of their potential. you meet people through other people. you might only see someone once. you might not get a fair share. the world fucks and you fuck right back. fuck->fuck back. im thinking about explaining this more later. im going to stay up as late as is reasonable playing diablo II |
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| 01:25am 23/10/2009 |
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on that note, i dropped my hard drive today and now it's dead. um,
i guess there's a lot to say on the matter and the first thing that comes to mind isn't the most important in my mind, or the most relevant to me but here i am in the throes of a technology based tragedy, and oh what great evidence this is to our fragility as a species or something. that was five hundred gigabytes kaput and i'm wondering if this event has somehow been transmitted back to me back in june 2007 when i had a very mysterious feeling of buyers remorse after buying this particular hard drive. that's over two years writing, photography, film, now kaput and ive said to myself that the reason i wasnt completely broken apart by the car theft in sacramento is because i had some stroke of luck deciding at the last minute to get my hard drive out of my car for the night.
i shouldn't be so dramatic, it isn't "broken", its just locked behind a 1600 dollar price tag for data retrieval, which is out of this world, and now event by event i am getting so much more desperate
does anybody know of anyone who wants me to pay me to be me? i will not disappoint I SWEAR
I WILL DO ANYTHING
IS ANYONE OUT THERE
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
i was sitting and reviewing this film thats near complete and loving it and loving myself since i was feeling my hearstrings tugged by it and i wasnt even trying, just look at this wonderful thing, im so glad things are working out finally, and it was in the editing lab during some class and this frat d bag is showing his guns and carchase handycam movie so i turn to be polite and support my fellow filmmaker and my knee catches on the cable and pulls the hard drive onto the ground. goddamn hell of a time for this one film, and what is this curse!
i mean, it's not a "curse" either, it's just that i am building my world on the mistakes i make, and i haven't and cant seem to ever make enough. i have been living my entire life basically without guidance. whether because it wasn't provided for me or because i've refused it, all the important things i've learned i've learned because of something i initiated. a lot of times the initiation is involuntary, and a lot of times it's just a small lesson. but i make so many mistakes, and the mistakes are never too enormous, each one is just as easy to make as the last. the consequences always depend on the context. i've been talking about this for years.
when i was living at sharas house, the deadline was approaching to finalize my application for piney point, and this was on a day i had work at american apparel but had to stop by the silver spring branch to pick up something or other, and i thought that while i was there i could send off this package to piney point then just do the rest of my business. so i wrote the address i needed down on an envelope and tore it in half so it wouldnt take up too much space in my pocket. i put one half in my pocket and the other on the floor and took the metro to silver spring, waited in line at the post office for half an hour, got to the window and pulled out a blank half of an envelope. this was the last day i had before whatever was in that package was due, and i had to be at work in a lot less time than i had. stupid stupid stupid, got back on the metro and ran back to my house, found this simple fucking piece of paper, borrowed my roommates bike, sped to the metro, realized i should have brought a lock, and just left it there kind of hidden in some bushes. it was there when i got back that night but it would have been a perfect griping point about how my habitual mistakes take on terrifying forms based on what's at risk
such as all my creative evidence since the point at which it has started to matter, and a bit before that, too. these are the pitfalls of living in a technology-centric life, and a life based on what i make and not what i do, but this is what i've chosen for myself because this is what works best for me. what a loaded decision it would be to give it all up and choose something simpler. such implications! as a human and a product of nature, i will adapt: i will not carry around my whole body of work when i don't have to. i'll get a 32 gb flash drive and edit directly from that, transferring what's needed to or from my hard drive when i need it. i will no longer have any excuse whatsoever to give talentless soon-to-be hollywood hack wannabes any shred of my precious attention |
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| 01:24am 21/10/2009 |
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where i live
i'm thinking about putting this livejournal to rest, but it's kind of important and too comfortable to leave behind. but noones around anymore, and i'm thinking about getting serious. like maybe like rossbrubeck.com serious and a blog about my and others art and my and others film. but i don't really want to see something like this become "a thing of the past", some corpse. or some dumping ground when i'm very intermittently moved to use it. isn't that what it is already? when i start thinking about this i naturally move on to how i used to think it would be a good idea to copy/paste all of my 2001-2003 deadjournal entries and make some brilliant book out of it, but that would have been a disaster and i've deleted my deadjournal since then. but i'm obviously the same person still because i still think about making some brilliant collection out of my livejournal entries, which would be equally disastrous and just wouldn't work in book form. it's just a sort of habitual thinking. i'm not really serious about it. i just like for it to stand as a monument. and i never really know how to cap a monument. i've been scribbling over this one drawing for a couple weeks now and it's just blackness at this point. i could just keep scribbling over and over on this particular website until whenever whenever. this is how my thought process goes on the subject, and this is me writing it down for the first time. then - why a monument? the links to pictures will gradually be broken as the internet changes itself. this is illustrated well in this entry. i can back them up on my photobucket, which i have done and will do, but how long will photobucket be a website? if the company somehow goes bankrupt or the server building is blown up, those photos are lost, then there will be no more photos on this livejournal. same situation applies to livejournal, inc. bombed or bankrupt, monument is kaput. so why? then eventually (sorry for this) i'll die. then what. then, at some point for sure, livejournal inc and photobucket inc will disappear, then humanity dies, then accelerate towards infinity. this is how it goes, i think about temporary holding cells, i begin to accelerate towards the atemporal and then i acknowledge its existence again and stop there, unable to move any closer because these doors of perception won't budge, thankfully, maybe. is there any way to move closer? am i not within it already? the point is that i could do whatever it is i do, the things that i do, on this website or another website, or no websites at all. it's all coming out of me and its gotta go somewhere, sometime, to exist in a specific place for a finite amount of time, and i can't really expect more than that |
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| 11:22pm 06/10/2009 |
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ah,
things to say, |
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| 02:20am 06/10/2009 |
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so full of pizza. if you hold a string taut and twist it in opposite directions at each end, at some point it will be impossible to hold straight and it will twist up on itself. i don't know why this is, something about math. if i think about ∞ long enough it collapses on itself like this then starts anew. it doesnt take very long, and it's happening all the time. it happens in everything, all the time. i can feel it sometimes. sometimes things that i do break a tap into it and i can feel it, like i'll be twisted up in it too. certain things i do sometimes break a tap into it and i can feel it like i'm being grabbed hold of and twisted in two directions. sometimes it's good and sometimes its bad, but it's always the exact same, but it only lasts as long as the peak is from ascent to descent. it happens everywhere and no-one knows about it because it's either invisible or within each of us.
at an intersection that i cross on my route back from UNCJ, there is a broken white line that runs across a perpendicular street. i slalom it sometimes, but i can't ever remember which direction i should start from to be on the street side instead of the curb side at the end. i think i need to start from the street side, and i'll come out on the street side. i skip the first one because theres a little drop between the asphalt and the curb and i'm afraid to trip my bike up on it. but am i getting an accurate answer this way? its a failed attempt to have started on the wrong side and have to skip the last white dash because of my mistake. if i were to approach them as a group in their fullest number, would the way i'm observing as and assuming is correct turn out to be wrong? am i forced to make a mistake every time by being forced to skip the first, is my question.
unfortunate delays with the movie
these are songs that have been important
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| 11:53pm 30/09/2009 |
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im sweaty.
I won’t be posting a new movie tonight. It will happen sometime between tomorrow and a week from now. It’s a year since I wrote this and this, neither of which are especially well-written, but both of which are very significant, and make me feel terribly strongly. Life’s not like that anymore, or like it ever was before, at any point. I won’t be posting a new film tonight because it’s not finished. There is a song and footage to fill it from start to finish, but it meanders. There’s this part with cats that just shouldn’t go on as long as it does. One specific cut could be a bit more clever. I was unbearably excited about it, and said FUCK IT it’s going up, this is not the final destination for this film, no, not at all. I only knew of its existence since Monday. This particular concept had never been seen anywhere in all of time before the start of this week. I have no relationship with it, according to the relative amount of time I’ve spent with it. Relative to my whole life, three days is nothing. Relative to three days, I probably spent ten hours editing it, which is a much larger proportion. I will only love it more the longer I work on it, but I love it enough to consummate this right now, right here and now. This titanium reason holds me back. When I wanted to rush it out I didn’t know what could go in place of the cats, but now I know what specifically could go in place of the cats. It will be a lot of work. I’m reminded of my most recent experience of will when I’m starving and have a free sandwich from subway sitting in my car, and I could and should just eat it right here while im driving, who cares? I reach across and grab it but Something, some kind of taut elastic will pulls me back from the sub and into a ship on the Indian ocean, and I think about it only long enough to know that I’d rather not think about it, so instead of the experience I think of the lesson learned, about the maddening and seemingly involuntary self-discipline. Oh from where does it stem. Some sort of basic social desire- stay on a ship to make enough money, with this money finance films, with these films socialize in the most effective way possible for me. Lose everything else that makes these films possible – HILARIOUS – use the money to get back approximately to square one, make better films and socialize better than the money would have allowed. This runs through my head in a split second but the sandwich smells too delicious to leave alone, but I leave it alone, because I will eat it soon. leave the sandwich alone, exercise the type of restraint that has brought money. discomfort -> yadda. Then I am dragged into all sorts of ordeals and have to think about the sandwich for much longer than I intended.
I hardly remember what it was I got so caffeinated about. All sorts of things to write about, but, rather, just things to think about, or just things to remember that I thought about at one point. I don’t feel like any time has passed. I had very convincing reasons for why it was important to keep writing, but haven’t I been over this a hundred times already? When reviewing, I will see three weeks exist between this entry and the last, but would it have mattered at all? I skip from one to the next with the least effort possible; an eye movement. It’s just barely more difficult than breathing or beating my heart. Things happened, yeah,
ALRIGHT FINE. What happened? I filmed more of the (current) movie. I broke it off with someone, in a manner of speaking. I skipped my statistics exam because I felt like my actors were flaking again and there were no more scantrons for sale at the school store, and I didn’t have a graphing calculator, and if I don’t learn the material by the fourth time I read the text, I won’t learn it at all. And I’m way past four. That night I ended up filming anyway but we still need to reshoot it because, somehow, all three of us forgot that there was supposed to be a kiss in the scene, which is kind of important. Not like it wouldn’t make sense without it, but the line “it seems I’ve grown up” was left out of that one I made in july and that’s just the kind of heavy little detail I like to keep in it. I just made this other movie that I wont post. What REALLY happened though? I got drunk and a crush. I stayed up shirtless till seven talking about everything and getting infuriated about infinity. talking about why not to and ways not to fool yourself into thinking that life could be better than it is. being here and there. Whatever-whatever. I am so selfish. All I talk about is myself. I reread entries over and over again, and sometimes I read them out loud, loudly and with animation. I wrote this entry back in 2004, and it’s important like all the rest, but specifically this one is because I was very excited about thinking about it while walking through the university of maryland, and I took the elevator up to carrie’s dorm room and demanded her computer and wrote it all out and then recited it to her with great emotion, but it wasn’t for her that I recote it, it was for me. In that moment I was feeling fully independent; from her and myself too, which hadn’t happened in too long (I think because of timidity) but I snatched it up without double thinking myself. which was odd and selfish, but it contributed to the way I acted which contributed to a good memory. I understand precisely what my skills and needs are, and all of them relate to me and what I specifically need. This applies to everyone, but to follow the spiral of meaning deeper OR HIGHER the skills that I have serve the needs that I have, and rather than needing to help others, I need to help myself. Others help others to, in the end, help themselves, I help myself to help others. IM SITTING HERE TYPING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS IN THE LIBRARY and will leave it for the whole internet to see when the internet wants to see it. I’m doing all I can to create a large foundation so that if someone needs it someday, it’s here. I serve myself first, but always bring enough to share. I might feel bad about not moving forward if I wasn’t always moving outward. And forward |
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| so i should |
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| 02:09am 16/09/2009 |
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i am allowed to because i want to |
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| 01:02am 09/09/2009 |
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ross with an o
it might be obscene to not write tonight. im slightly strung out, but not like the night before last, but that's not to say its the only type of circumstance where i'd feel obligated to write. it's not even the best, or even close even. this is where it's appropriate, right? there are tools we abuse ourselves with. now i make myself less comfortable with things like alcohol and tobacco not to follow the Grand Tradition but as the newest of methods to wake whatever up in me that gets me to doing the things i want to do. there are things that i want to do because they of the way they make me feel once they are done. discomfort to wake the spirit, then the spirit grows and either i ignore it because it feels so permanent, then its gone, or i heed and something real comes out of it, then i am accomplished. the middle can be canceled out and the equation isnt affected: discomfort -> accomplishment, and it's scalable to any level. i am thankful for the number of tools and methods that i can use to punish myself for subproductivity. the affected trappings of sorcery to wake the beast in me. my standby, the Maryland Method, of daylight torpor, nighttime mania. biking up long hills wakes the demon too. there are so many that make me feel the life about me. constructed drama like failing college. sex-based rejection. shriveling up spiritually at sea. bench presses. squats. poverty and destitution. law breaking, lawlessness. simulated drowning. sleep deprivation. clear, public portraits of inadequacy. infinity. eating at restaurants. boring roommates. falling hard/getting hit. racial tension. panic
this comes from having spent a lifetime in middle school, but there are many points where i swear i'm too far behind to ever make it now. then i spend a weekend (this most recent, to be full-disclosure) learning to surf with good company, and new people like david or wallace or chops or smiley, whatever his name actually is, who is all bones and buzzard-like and a baby pool (as opposed to diving well) photographer, who seems to only have conversations by saying "yeah" "yes" "i know" "me too". and here i am all beard and boiled hard, full of fantastic ideas and might and magic, practitioner of the power to not be generous, lean and streamlined with hair on my chest and veins on my arms and shoulders and a mouth full of turkey and mustard sandwich which just occupies the fifteen seconds it takes to craft another clever and memorable sentence for all to hear. this is all pretty much about the difference testosterone makes, but all the same, its one element that, when applied to humankind, takes on the life of the entirety of human civilization as it has been recorded. at any level it is the same allegory; scaled down all the way to events like nighttime wandering the boardwalk at wilmington by myself for a bit and i happen across chops and so-and-so, who i only met yesterday but am having the smallest scale model of innocent summer romance with, and she, in the middle of another one of Daves "i know's" turns right to me when i walk up and tells me "THERE you are!" cause i wandered off
AS USUAL
and we walk into the surf to watch the red moon rise and touch feet. she sleeps curled towards me in the tent and the next morning as shes stepping out gets her hair caught in the zipper two times in a row. the next morning there's a storm a day away and the tide is long, mean and foamy and i'm loving it. this was a photo club trip for a photo club from a school that i don't even go to anymore but still know all the members and am (ooosssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy) welcome at because of my ideas and charisma. there's only one real artist in the bunch, not including the teacher. i stood knee deep in my "dry clothes" awash in wind and sand as carloads one of three and two of three left for greensboro again, and im grinding my teeth and laughing because the sea is mighty and warm and im in it not knowing whether this rage means i want to fight or fuck. carload three of three joins me in the wild grey brine and we get all wet and free before we leave. theres plenty going on nowadays and if when i look back to say that it was good, i hope i'm doing it because it's gotten better
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| 02:12am 01/09/2009 |
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its worth understanding or at least remembering how frequently and humiliatingly (?) you have to fail to get what you want. .hard to do. it's hard to wait to win. it's hard to have to fail again. i permanently struck that last entry from memory but i was going to interject, but i didnt, but why not just write again about the three girls lined up at the bar. i wasn't exactly talking about whatever whatever, its just that the three of them live here, and i live here. and i have interacted and networked with them on a level that has sealed a strong bond, and they stood there with arms around eachother, pretty, chatting, and bonded too. they are people that will be around when i know they will be around, and i can reach them on foot or by phone or text. i know things that they dont know, each of us as pairs knows things that the other pair doesnt know, and each individual knows all sorts of things that the other individuals don't know, and there's so much to share and learn, and then the time and place and so many ways to do it. i laughed and bit my knuckle and looked away when they looked over. they played Exit Music at last call which was the worst thing to happen and the exact right thing to shoo me away, and i left right away, sorry all
but let it play in my head on the downhill bikeride again, hands off the handles again, leaning back this time, speeding and cool wind, arms folded, listening to the climax. oh well
i wonder what ill have to write about when its too cold to bike anymore. i think so rapidly
im working home improvement/destruction with evan hayes, who i hadnt seen too much of since 2006, since then he's cleaned up and gotten skinny and responsible, but has stayed cantankerous. he talked about his mom shooting his own gun better than he himself could and called her "that bitch", but not to say she's worse than him, just implying that they are equals. i like his omnivorous dissatisfaction. responsible young man driving a big pickup truck, still smokes camel silvers, just like me and curry on april 2006 sunday afternoons. talking about an honest days work, which i really believe in, i'd just maybe like to eventually learn some skills. or something. talking about an honest days work and the doughballs he'd like to have a week with to show them what for, even though i think these particular doughballs would probably match pace at this job. i didn't mention that because that would have killed the conversation, and conversation makes the work easier. i made a bit of money from my first day and spent it all on a cheesburger and breezy's tip cause she served it to me and it was her last day and she doesn't like her job. or didn't, but she got used to it because she's a human being. |
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| 01:32am 27/08/2009 |
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north carolina feels very different from maryland, warm dark night tonight, i was on my bike and looked down a street and thought i saw townhouses, but i saw houses with wraparound porches. i looked around and the streets were different. it was october 2005 and august 2009. i looked up at a porch wrapping around a second story and, shadows, warm weather, future past and present, floating something, floating flora or something, i saw it and saw it as Something Else, again. i wish i knew if anyone else saw Something Else but that would be on the same level as knowing if anyone else saw the same green as i do. i was going to save this for many decades in the future, but anthea sydney and clare all lined up at the bar tonight and i felt taller and fuller than any building any man could build. i screamed at nothing in particular and got up to walk off for a second then return. i coasted top speed down friendly and stood all the way forward against the handrails figurehead style, like i do. somethings right or wrong, for now. im in school. my astronomy teacher held a marble between his thumb and index finger and told us this was the sun and this was the scale that we'd be working in this semester, and this is exactly what i'm talking about. he didnt understand how totally deeply it was what im talking about. i was feeling extra distracted yesterday, i was treated to a free dinner in the cafeteria at the university of north carolina and stayed an hour and a half after my company left so i could drink coffee and write until i got hungry again. the writing wasnt good and i probably looked like an asshole sitting there. scribbling, fresh v neck, beard and all, shaved head. fucking coffee. i was dying again to know whether or not the universe was infinite yesterday. imagine what would be in it
everythingggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg. everything is already in the universe? everything is in the universe. everything that could be, though, would be, including infinity. everything thats there now is there now. everything is everything<\strike> |
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| 12:29am 24/08/2009 |
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no nicks, cuts, or irritation
i finished up this, the possible last movie in the mac lab in the basement of Bauman on Guilfords campus, and got up and yeah, i looked back but realized i don't believe in the end anymore, like i'd been planning on for a while. i've never really had a problem with it. "the end". some of the freshmen were up in their freshman dorms with their windows open and the overhead light on, wearing new pajamas and pacing back and forth next to a made bed with new sheets. moving things from here to there, bored of the internet, wondering whether or not to call home again. school starts tomorrow and it's just as weird, likely weirder, than ever. haha.
here's the feature presentation, my business in august:
why i dont deserve to be locked up on a ship:
why i deserve a benefactor/sugardaddy to fund my whims:
i'm not above doing what it is i gotta do ya know:
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| 11:22pm 16/08/2009 |
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im outside and a cicada just noisily crash landed on the sidewalk in front of me and laid upturned. it was audible, and also a bug. this bug's got weight, presence, and an innate vulnerability, like a capybara as opposed to a hamster. of this world, and has grown by a certain factor to a more relatable scale, so must obey specific laws, such as gravity. its an animal that makes noise when it falls. an elephant makes noise as it walks around, unlike a mouse. its big enough not to care, and to destroy nature while still remaining a part of nature. tiger eats zebra/nature destroys nature - meat -> meat. nature <-> nature. earlier this summer i saw a bird smack into a window and fly away, and it left a couple feathers and some bird saliva behind. eat meat -> meat -> meat -> meat -> meat. its nice outside, despite the mosquitoes. i cut all my hair off yesterday and woke up late today. i made a bowl of cereal and three sausages, and spent two hours putting space themed stickers on nametags with P. Grace for all the incoming freshman at guilford. We went to B. Maries and they watched vampire tv on the internet. i left after a while and it was already six pm, but i hadn't been up that long. the sun was severer than i expected and the outside smelled like the last moments of a tootsie pop and the lingering confederacy slash kudzu. wind on my head. livejournal. ∞ <-> ∞ |
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| 02:15am 03/08/2009 |
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in all the things ive been doing recently i've tried to be able to think of them in terms to fit this certain title, but here i am now, without premeditation, chilly and a little hungry, stuck on this dark bus for the next two to three hours, having to decide to postpone the completion of another project after a couple weeks of laziness, thinking about school again what in the world, now finally living A Midsummer Nights Curse. i have been idle again too long, two to three weeks too long. it's all in and around me, like i feel like i've got a story nearly ready in me but for the past couple of months i've cared less about describing events or people and more about making and filming pretty colors or seeing what things look like on and under water. i feel like ive got a story growing in me, as usual, but this one has been gestating for over a year now. i got up before everyone else one saturday morning last year at piney point in phase III. i was feeling fine so i took a summer stroll through the campus and wrote until i couldn't stand the mosquitoes anymore. im hungry and trapped on this awful bus for another two to three hours in the dark and this man behind me is scratch scratching pencil on paper to sketch out some blond lady's face from a magazine page, and i laid my head down on the seat next to me but its just stale buttsmell, i have wonderful, beautiful things committed to video, but they've been sitting half-edited on the computer lab at guilford for three weeks because i don't have enough to make it something real, and i won't force myself to work on something that is just mediocre anymore, and i can't quite get myself in a situation to get the right completing footage. Sewer tunnels underground at UNCG, shoot more roman candles? i need to wait for this person and this person to get back so i can dunk their hair in a fishtank, so i'll have a redhead and a blonde in addition to a brunette and a black, but i'd have to wait two more weeks for that and i want to do it now. why do i want to do it now? why didn't i want to do it now before? i could have done it now before, but i don't think i had the correct ideas yet. these two weeks will pass, like the last three months have passed, and all of the other time i've been conscious for has passed (unquantifiably). i can't think of anything to do in the meantime is the problem, and this is my curse. i have plenty of things i could do, but i need money for them. this is my curse. awful one. why did they want my drawings.
i've moved as of july 28th and since i've moved i've barely spent any time in my new room. im afraid of it, or the future i'm going to have in it, specifically during winter, since i predict i will be very cold and without much help. this reminds me of my trip to portland from greensboro when i would blast the heat in my car right before stopping somewhere to sleep for the night. then id create a blankets seal between myself and the temperature outside of my car. the heat inside would only last an hour or so, and i needed to sleep for five or six more after that, and i had to rely on my body heat the rest of the time. it was difficult then for the four nights i spent on the road and i dont want to have to endure something like this for three months. i was at the gym and brainstorming about warmth and how shrink wrapping the windows might not be enough, but then i said quietly to myself, "heating pads". i'll put heating pads under my blankets. this is much better than the dozen cats idea. i laid down on a bench and looked up at the lights in the cieling, and i was in actraiser. i felt also as if i was all the music from earthbound. does this make sense?
intermission
b mayo, p dear 11:30 am 8/2/09, hillsboro or thereabouts
i beat metroid around midnight the other day and i closed my eyes at the credits and thought about failed films. cindy watched then whisked me away to the beach and we were lost on the way but got there as the sun came up and i fell asleep for about twenty minutes and had an infinity nightmare in eight or ten chapters. it was wonderful, and i'd give anything for a good nightmare again, one naturally occurring in my night-to-nights. last one that might have even come close was the one about lava in austin, but that was less of a nightmare and more of an intense unconscious exploration of the concept of chaos, invincibility, and "afterlife" |
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| 03:58am 18/07/2009 |
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fuckin harold the cat is stuck in a tree, notice the white spot in the left nook
live bloggin this. bout to climb up there but i'm losing my nerve cause its being sapped by the internet. i'd rather play tower defense or go on spaceghetto. this is very important because i dont know if this cat is going to live or die. HELLO WORLD THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT BECAUSE I DONT KNOW IF THIS CAT IS GOING TO LIVE OR DIE IM GOING BACK TO SCHOOL IN THE FALL. I MET MOLLY TONIGHT AND SHES STUDYING FILM AT BARD IS THIS CAT GOING TO LIVE OR DIE I TRIED TO CUT IT DOWN OBSERVE
IS THIS BETTER OR WORSE THAN LIVING AT HOME. CAUSE I COULD DO THAT FOREVER |
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| 02:09am 13/07/2009 |
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wotta storm tonite, all lightning, no thunder or rain. all for eyes, none for ears or skin, or tongue either i guess. eyes and nose, no ears skin tongue or the rest. hold on, i need to put on some music
ah. i mention people involved in my life and post pictures of them but make no claim to them, only to the events we experienced because of eachother, and actually no further than the event mentioned. to illustrate, that is to say, and i particularly like the way they all look anyhow. the storm was immensely bright and quiet, awe inspiring, and i was outside feeling halfway odd. what am i doing, i know i need to be at a job interview tomorrow at ten AM and i know i'm not going to write with the same fluidity that i was thinking with in the car back uptown. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmand i took my melatonin, twice whats reccomended, and that was at least half an hour ago, and here i have sat down with my quarter inch of beer in a glass and pink light again, like most nights two months past and three weeks still. i'm not actually going to chicago, though i thought i was for a few days. i talked about a job interview but i'm not actually going to get a job. i put my camera on the front of my car today and scratched my chin, and i think i'm going to take it for a spin tomorrow because i JUST GOT A GOOD IDEA about what should go on it. i had plans, but then listened to music and was instantly struck with an idea. i should sleep, but HERE WE GO AGAIN, i probably find situations to be responsible in so that i can remind myself how rebellious i am, and that i'm worth it. i probably go on and on just to have words to go around pictures
if i had a genie id wish to live michael jacksons life. im upset and bothered occasionally and occasionally frequently at my limitations. the storm had passed over while i was driving back and i thought in depth this time about how ive been able to really come into it with film, and even though it'll inevitable wane temporarily, i still feel like ive woken the wind, and itll be this way till i die. i thought in depth about main talents and "callings" and how if i devoted enough thought i could find some steady tap into other talents, for example: music. i thought about how for me it happens, and has happened, but so far everything feels like its accidents. and it's all accidents, everything is accidents, but i might not care to make enough opportunities for musical accidents. out of all talents, what does everyone want their children to do? what do you start doing when you're nine to fourteen? rock and roll band. you're bad until you get better or realize you won't. what do you do at parties? put on music. what colors your life? what is ever-present and why is it that way?
all this collective connection from it. the art of music brings people together in relative states of abandon or risk. it encourages a sense for accidents. the art of cooking brings people together in comfort. i could cook, too. im just still being an asshole and not doing full grocery runs. i mixed marmalade into some vanilla yogurt this morning and topped two pancakes with it, and it was a happy find. but i still won't give it the time of day, like my ailing keyboard out in the living room, i'll get on it and just play what i've been playing for months. music is connective, cooking is connective, drugs and alcohol are connective and so much thought goes into these worlds, but they are a bit of a false cognate, since for most they just mimic or represent the experience of creation. and that's why it's a closed loop of advertisement into consumption/experience into advertisement. all other art is this way too, maybe? i'm either biased or haven't thought thoroughly enough. music, culinary, drugs alcohol as a notable mention but possibly not actually part of the club, dance, written word, film or video, acting or performance, painting or drawing, sculpture, architecture, what else, interactive art? conversation? the art of being a good host? archery? morotcycle maintenance? bodybuilding? knowing when to say when? whatever isn't connective by its nature is made so by our urge to be social. we will sit and read a book then discuss it in our book club or look to incorporate it into conversations. we will watch a play or a film then discuss it on the way home. but film and performance (and painting and architecture (and bodybuilding (and hallucinogens))) are sort of the arts of awe, the art of evoking astonishment at the abundance of emotion, of common or shared emotion, of our common humanity through the recognition of traits common to percieved strangers. awe from our readiness as cold strangers to accept and require openness on all sides, honesty from the actor, honesty from the writer and the director, and in the audience, a dark, safe environment to honestly react to what is seen, and to do it around others doing the same thing. it is meticulous and exhausting and tragically fleeting, which is why its frustrating and appropriate that i consider it my strongest talent. its selfish that it should demand full attention to relay ideas so often definite and intended to inspire awe. it's hard to relate to awe, and i'm just looking to relate. you can't play a film on a guitar, and then hear it arranged for an entire orchestra. you don't hum a film while you work. people have sex to films? yick. i'm sure there are analogues across the board and i am just choosing to ignore them
i guess the point is that i aim to or havve to be awe-inspiring, which is probably why i like thinking about how big the sun is
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i honestly hate that ive written this but out it goes, onto the internet, limitless, and day by day even more so!
edit (7/13/09) i just reread some old entries and decided that a lot of this is irrelevant thought |
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| 07:23pm 12/07/2009 |
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I JUST GOT AN IDEA |
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| 05:10am 07/07/2009 |
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i walked from the pour house to jazz and said whats good brother i got somethin to show you to Gray and wsup man ive got presents for you to Ryan and showed them both what we had spent till 3 am the other night doing, and it was good, and then i walked barefoot home. Apparently i have habits because here I am again walking miles in the summer night, like it was the ‘5 and I was walking from montgomery general to farmhouse ct, like it was the ‘6 and I it was the night I got out of ritas minivan in frustration and walked a mile and a half or the same year and i left rita in frustration in clarksville and walked seven miles or two and a half hours before being picked up or the same year on the night I went to fort reno, then talked for five minutes to james willet and left feeling awkward and dissatisfied so i walked four and a half miles to fort totten, and was assaulted along the way. I only hinted at it back then but hinting’s not my MO any more, at least not about the past, not that it ever was or is about the present, I got hit in the head by this dude who came out of a group of kids and i got a concussion and walked the rest of the way spitting and fuming and not quite saying the “N” word but coming close, and then the next day I stayed the weekend with my recently dehospitalized grandfather and skipped out late at night with my friends, later spent a good portion of the night kissing A. Nagy on a hill and locked myself out and had to sit in a chair in the backyard till granddad brubeck woke up and I told him how I was out all night, but don’t worry, I stayed with friends, and he insisted that I sleep, so I slept till about two when I heard him spill orange juice in the kitchen and call for me, so I came. i don't mean to blow through it all like every event mattered the same amount, and talk about it plainly whereas back then i talked about it through implication, but i'm just desperate to get the story out and on to the next paragraph:
And that was 2006, and the story wasn’t appropriate to tell yet. This story I lived tonight isn’t appropriate to tell yet, but l’m walking long distances for the fourth summer in a row and this time I don’t have shoes on. Maybe It’ll be appropriate after another two miles/half an hour
So I wonder things like
BRIAN ROWE
Do you still check up on livejournal and
MELODY MAGLIONE
Do you still check up on livejournal, based on your beauty, my ex girlfriend was jealous that I was internet friends with you even though we’ve never met, and did you know I drove thru utah? and the reason we became livejournal friends is because goddamn gogol bordello was on your LJ interests and it was on mine too and
NASIMEH EASTON
Do you still check up on livejournal even though I see you ery day and feels like I film you half nakes on the regular even though all it is is that we just talk about it allatime and
DANIELLE STOUT
I wonder if you still check up on livejournal, you only update once a year but I know you creepin, ive been rejected many many times since you but I’m still not down for the count and
YURI WOODSTOCK
I wonder if you’re checking up on livejournal, you’ve called me a “weirdo” in direct conversation about three or four times since May, and I know I very plainly called you a “weirdo” about a dozen entries ago and I know you’re a smart guy and I wouldn’t put it past you to google your name and come across my livejournal, Kay Kelley did it once back about a year or two ago and was put off by the fact that I mentioned her here
like here I am on my next official reintrocution to greensboro, walking barefoot back from Monday night jazz downtown, and spanning the so-far summer, my trips back are on a scale like that of a snail shell AKA bernoulli AKA logarithmic AKA equiangular AKA descartes AKA golden, first driven back, then biking back many times, now walking back on my two god given legs and feet, next I dunno, lying and being pushed by the wind or something. i felt like originally when i was here in the '5/'6 my time was spent drifting in bewilderance from a skyscrapertop down for a hard landing on the pavement, and beginning sophomore year i was on concrete, and ready to walk away. here, i don't know. this summer is deep, mysterious, and timeless and not even over yet and i don't even realise it yet,
schools ahead again,
so, shit dudes, im always grinding my brain about all this nonsense to talk about, but i hardly will get to it, i think it mainly serves as a motivator to write at least about something, and look at all this something:
im feeling slightly guilty about using this as just a FWD for any sory of video i make, and not a forum for its own brand of exploration, and i'm getting ready to post yet anOTHER vimeo
Etc etc, since im the perpetual fool, I felt once (amongst many times) in my senior year of high school that my creative spark, my unwieldly drive was gone, I went down to georgetown with friends and was so sick with a cold my senses were extra sharp, and it was right on the verge of spring so I was starting to smell things again, and was super inspired since I was right on the tail end of the beginning of a long relationship and nearly about to graduate high school, and the next day my cold worsened and I totally glazed over and I was done feeling the transcendence from downtown DC, I drew pictures and they were awful and I felt my spark was extinguished forever. and thereupon began my vaccilations in earnest. I laid bare in bed with anthea the other night and insisted to her that EVERYTHING WILL BE FORGOTTEN. EVERYTHING WILL BE FORGOTTEN and she said that she will remember for as long as she lived and I asked but how long will she live? And she said I don’t know, and I wanted to re-ask because my point was ill-conveyed. Every once in a while I catch a whiff of some heavy industry and am momemtarily fully reminded of the painfully hollow personalities and terrifyingly bland circumstances encountered in the life of a merchant marine. I hopped home on one foot to ease the other and I was alone in a universe where everyone had only one foot, I walked normally and hiccupped and it was just me and the moon and the summer freshness alone for miles and eons and the night is glowing dark blue light, at times reddish, others greenish, around the moon glowing pure clear as if punched through the sky a round hole into the Next, populated by some brilliant clamor which yet lay a hundred miles hence but was but a magnificent freefall and if my arms and legs and neck were long enough I’d reach myself right through and first things first, take a deep long breath. dunno mang, soy crasy |
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doesdance's journal
