Monday, November 26, 2007

too much nothing


all we've done is watch tv for the past four days. so gross. over it. being broke is such a bummer in ny. everything seems to revolve around money lately. i'm grateful for my nice apartment thats comfy n clean and has a little kitty kicking it in it. we tried to teach her how to use the toilet recently and she thoroughly denied it. sucks. its the one thing i hate about cats.

i show my film to my class tomorrow nite. we'll see how it goes. its not finished, just a very rough cut.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Saturday, November 17, 2007

an adopted name

Discovering so many sentimental things lately. i think its the weather. its cold and dark out and its hardly 5 o'clock. i've spent some time thinking about the temporal nature of everything, especially relationships. things move so quick. when i turned 24, four people i knew in my life passed away. one after the other, two at a time. when i remember them, i always remember them laughing because that was when they were most beautiful. any negative parts of them i have somehow stored in a place that eventually disintegrates, and i think thats probably good, because they're gone and there's no need to judge them.
its amazing that i'm here and that i'm in this very committed relationship. its been 2 years, which is crazy to me. sometimes i look around our apartment and get scared. i don't how normal that is, but i think it goes along with the temporarlity of things. dave always says 'change is the only thing constant in our lives' and thats something i haven't thought about enough.
i ran across a friends blog and became very quiet. i've been reading it for the past hour, and its been this odd combination of feelings, generally melancholic and nostalgic. he's constantly traveling to random towns and living and working at places like the waffle house or something just to try a different sort of life. sometimes i feel like i'm wasting time, and i had a definite feeling of loss as i read his stories. i would never do what he does, but i wish i had the balls too try something like it. i'm constantly preparing for some time in the future where things will become solidified. i don't mean solidified in the sense of a house and family (please, not so generic) (not to judge those who aspire for this, however), but perhaps more about success, which is very ethereal.

---
i stepped outside this morning, into
the cold stark ocean of traffic from
the near by expressway
i found kids toys broken on the ground,
two small vintage plates
a microwave
and shoe
laying lonely in the cement, left
and forgotten.
these things bring memories
of sitting for hours, on my old porch
in shorts and tank top, put on me by my mother, who is soaking beans
in the kitchen.
i'm staring to the street, past the sidewalk that meets the lawn
boys ride by, call my name
men drive by, i avert my eyes
the women, in the neighborhood, are dragging furniture out to the street
things no longer needed,
by dwindling families
and i remember, feeling sad, for objects
whose gloomy, limp parts, broken and abused, sat waiting
for their end

Friday, November 9, 2007

control

just got back from POUGHKEEPSIE, NY, population 30050. we spent a couple nights up there working on the last of our crews short films. she made a period piece where a woman decides to lay down and die in a grave she dug herself. pretty ambitious, but i think the film will look great.

i saw this before i left and have been thinking a lot about it from a photograpy stand point. its fantastic. so i recommend it - its still playing here at east village cinemas.



back to school on monday. booooo.... i like production period the most.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

the analogy of contrary

yesterday, we went to MOMA for the first time since we've moved here. There are certain moments where I become incredibly excited when I remember I live here. Its a feeling of endless possiblities and endless things to do. Thinking back to like 3 years ago when I just thought about NY as a far off notion, I had this incredible fear that I would be beyond broke, living terribly in some horrendous, loud apartment. I guess I just was scared of moving to such a huge and overwhelming place. So far, I have yet to be overwhelmed in a negative way. Every type of person lives here. Every type of artist lives here. You could go 12 blocks and be in a totally different world. anyways, i've had some days off recently and i've been able to appreciate everything a little more. dave and i walk for hours and find new places and see new people and things every corner we turn.

Seurat is on exhibition at the MOMA. I've loved his drawings for a long time. His tiny dots make up an environment where the subjects and the background move in and out of each other. they look like high contrast film stills from afar and molecular biology up close.below are a couple of nice ones, but nothing like the exhibit. google searches didnt render much.




seurat said...

Art is harmony. Harmony is the analogy of contrary and of similar elements of tone, of color and of line, conditioned by the dominate key, and under the influence of a particular light, in gay, calm, or sad combinations.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

just as you are

i've always loved this dedication john steinbeck wrote for his novel east of eden. i thought of it today while coming home with a box of Veniero's which is the best italian bakery in the east village. awww mannn... akiva and i went crazy and bought a couple pounds of pastries after drinking beers at an old man bar adam likes ( i like it too though).
beyond the happiness of egg cream, i'm bummed i didn't get any stills from my shoot beyond the ones i posted below. my camera battery died which Never happens. but i'll import some later as i'm editing. tomorrow i'm on set for another crew member. ho hum. i'm ready for the thrills and kills of high speed action films. wish we were making one. below is the sentimentality i was talking about above that Steinbeck thought of while hanging out in central california, near the coast. i wonder who pat is....

Dear Pat,
You came upon me carving some kind of little figure out of wood and you said, "Why don't you make something for me?"
I asked you what you wanted, and you said, "A box."
"What for?"
"To put things in."
"What things?"
"Whatever you have," you said.
Well, here's your box. Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full. Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad and evil thoughts and good thoughts- the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation.
And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you.
And still, the box is not full.
John

Thursday, November 1, 2007