06.15.2018 § Leave a comment
I’ve got a new job as a repo man. I’m here to reclaim a valuable vase from someone. I’ve found the right address but not the means to buzz up to the correct unit. A woman arrives home at the address and asks me if I’m trying to meet someone inside. She’s middle-aged, stocky, and pasty with hair dyed jet black. Awkwardly I tell her that I’m just trying to reach someone remotely first. Sometimes elevators and stairways are locked, indeed, but generally once inside a building you can make it to someone’s front door. Clearly I’m not the most aggressive repo man yet. Okay, she says.
Of course as soon as I figure out the interface for the contact box and dial my target, it turns out to be the same woman who I spoke with at the door. She comes back down to meet me. As soon as it’s time for me to say my piece, I choke. I realize that nothing in my training has prepared me for this moment. I get so flustered that I’m reduced to stammering, unable to produce a single word. Finally I manage, “I’m sorry, I forget.” The woman just chuckles and says okay again, heading back inside, closing the door behind her.
As soon as she’s gone, I whip my backpack around my back and rip it open, rummaging for my papers. I find the one that gives me my suggested script and start reading it aloud. Hello, my name is Doug, and I am a repo man. I am here to reclaim your vase. This is not negotiable. Hello, my name is Doug. I get so engrossed in my lines that I don’t even notice where I am. When I look up I am in the woman’s apartment, in her kitchen. Surely she’s heard me from in here, and surely since I’m so unpracticed I must sound like I’m lying. Surely at this point she must have assumed I’m here to rob her and has called the police on me. And while I’m not here to rob here, clearly I have at least trespassed!
I am so shocked by this revelation that I spin around and knock something off her stove. It turns out to be the very vase I was here to reclaim. It shatters into hundreds of pieces on her tile kitchen floor. If she hadn’t heard me in here before, suretainly she has now. My only goal at this point is try to come across as zero threat to her. I raise my hands in the air and slowly, slowly walk out of the kitchen, trying to find her.
Her bedroom door is ajar. I can see her eyeing me through the crack as I approach, nudging the door a little further open, so I can be sure she sees my submission. She is laying in bed, on the phone. To my surprise, she does not appear to be fearfully on the phone with the police. She’s just disinterestedly nodding and saying uh huh… uh huh… uh huh… look okay I’m going to have to let you go, I’ve got to take care of something, sorry, okay bye. At this point she hangs up with whoever she was speaking with, rises out from under the covers of bed and starts walking toward me.
She doesn’t say a word, just furrows her brow sternly, as I back away, falling to my knees, waving my hands, blubbering about how I don’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t mean to come in here, sorry I broke her vase, sorry I came by, etc. etc. When she gets close enough to me she slaps me hard across the face. One slap, then two slaps. She keeps slapping me, over and over.
06.07.2018 § Leave a comment
It’s a Rihanna music video. She’s floating, dead, face down in a shallow swimming pool with rags all around, her head in the top left corner, feet in the bottom center, making a diagonal line across the left side of the screen. Her voice is heard (not as if underwater; nondiegetic) signing that she will not be your ghetto side hoe. The camera pans to the right, off of her, and on to Colin Farrell, who is floating on his back, still alive, with kelp randomly slapped across the bottom of his face mocking a patchy beard, and crabs crawling all over his face and body, which he is inciting to pincer him by singing really animatedly.
06.01.2018 § Leave a comment
At first this is like some serious mob thing. But by the end it degenerates into walking down a giant neighborhood street, and beyond the distant picket fences towards some top-heavy dangerous green giant-mouthed blubbering beast of a claymation animated goon.
05.25.2018 § Leave a comment
A scatterbrained barrage of Star Wars themed bullshit, cliches, and tedium.
Music: Death Star cue! Rebellion theme! Tie fighter attack! Asteroid field! All in the span of like, one minute.
Characters? More like actors strung along on a plot.
Great, guess we have more Old Man Maul to look forward to.
Maybe one funny moment wasn’t some snarky, irreverent quip (I’m thinking of when Han could have used a uniform as a disguise had Chewie not ripped the bad guy’s arms off).
I’m pretty frustrated with the scene where Han gets his last name. It ruins the magic of Star Wars for me. Not the in-world magic. The magic of its cheesiness, I guess, is what I mean. Like, I definitely get lost in the world of Star Wars sometimes, but there’s something important about names like Han Solo, Greedo, etc. I mean, what the fuck is next? In the Admirar Ackbar spin-off, we witness some admin registering the name of his home world in the Republic’s records for the first time, and they’re like, “well, you look like a squid, so I’ll name it Mon Calimari!” I don’t know how exactly to explain this but maybe you get it too. Like, “Han Solo” the name is on the nose, but that’s okay so long as you don’t point at the nose? I am perfectly capable of suspending my disbelief over such a thing. I don’t need everything to be written by Tolkien who gives motivated, authentico-imaginary names to things. It makes sense that “Han Solo” is what we, the viewers from Earth, call this guy in the same way I understand that much of the time I’m watching Hollywood WWII movies and the Nazis are speaking together in accented English that “actually” they’re speaking in German but it is rendered in English for the benefit of my entertainment. But you wouldn’t fucking make a joke like, one of them says, hey, why don’t we switch into our mother tongue? I mean you could, if it was a fucking parody of a Hollywood WWII movie. But that’s exactly the kind of breach I feel just happened here. So what is this, a fucking parody of a Star Wars movie. Maybe.
I thought it would be refreshing to see a Star Wars movie where the fate of the galaxy is not directly at state, where it just happens to be set in said galaxy. I guess that part of it was fine, actually. It’s just that the movie was bad. I’m not deeply offended, just a bit insulted that this sort of going-through-the-motions contrivance passes as a Star Wars movie. Star Wars is over. I probably already said that for Episode VIII, but yeah, I am definitely not exciting myself over these things anymore. I’ll pass the time with the family watching one, yeah, but I’m not going to actively seek them out anymore.
05.24.2018 § Leave a comment
The family attaches a balloon to their camera. They’re almost going to lose it when they get the really high shot, but they manage to reel it back in.
Then back at home I’m with them. The dad has a tiny captive horse thing with a pig face. It’s like an inch tall, on his wooden work desk, tied by tiny strings to nails in the wall. He is trying to extract some substance from it. Definitely a kind of evil seeming purpose, contrasting with the freedom they feel after this family adventure and how it changes their perspective on space and scale, don’t you think??
“Have anything to drink? Coffee?” The mom asks me, though it’s weirdly late for that, and not clear that anyone else is having it. Also the dad (who was my more direct friend here) seems to be gone…
Heading home. It’s twilight. I realize I’m more lost than I thought I would be. I’m walking in the area by the hills of southwest San Francisco. How close is this to the shore, I wonder? Beginning to be more interested in the local geography than getting home. It turns out I’m pretty close to the shore, as I zoom out on Google maps. This is despite earlier getting this view from the family’s camera, which is maybe why I start becoming more interested in the Street View so I can see the hills around me. The buildings are not that tall here, quite pretty, though very not dense as I’d expect, kind of a pocket of undevelopment in the city. Maybe I’m late for something or about to miss a train or I’m just concerned about wasting time wandering now…
As I walk on I’m on Facebook and see that a designer at my day job who I’ve never had more than a passing exchange with is friends with Helen.
The designer asks me at a party if I go to this one other reoccurring party and I tell her no, though I’m lying, and as I lie I’m realizing that I even saw her at this party recently and continued to avoid conversation with her! But she doesn’t appear to notice or care about my lie.
At work together now we’re building a web app with the whole screen tiled with drag an drop plaques. But they are actually depressable, unmovable buttons. Moreover, what they do is launch shadows of themselves across the screen towards positions of perfect overlapping with other buttons like themselves, and upon exact overlap disappear completely.
I’m taking down the two clear plaques commemorating “Snuggles All Day Day” pinned into the wall with four corner metal pins. They have left little holes behind – is that okay here? Usually tape or sticky tack is used? There was one just before the staircase to the left and one to the right, in this area of the school basement where the main hallway T’s. Sadie had put them up, I learn once in the classroom. As class is getting confusing, though, I realize hey wait WTF!? And so I go to the snuggles.
05.18.2018 § Leave a comment
I am taking a shower when I notice a massive swarm of large matte black cockroaches milling around, containing themselves for some reason to a corner of the bathroom floor next to the shower. Karin seems unconcerned with this development.
I don’t quite understand the shift in constraints coming on us from our peers over this latest film project.