my posting in this forum - as the faithful reader will note (hi mom!) - has been reduced to something less than intermitttent trickle, something less substantial than smoke-wisp and - as per usual - this is attributable to a variety of churn and chop in a multitude of oceans, if you'll allow the indulgent metaphoring, and i feel guilty and irresponsible but only up to a certain point. mm and i have a ticking clock, set to arrive in early august, which has moved absolutely everything else to the backburner. We're steeling for waves of change that we can only surmise - we've watched plenty of others ride the waves but we're beach-bound or at least we will be until early august when we'll have no choice but to venture into the water (continuing the indulgence of the maritime metaphor).
alas, herein and forthwith, i will document our three-day holiday weekend, fittingly deemed 'memorial day' b/c we are certain that it will memorialize our rapidly shrinking autonomy.
friday, i got home early from work. m was home already. our houseguest of several days had moved on (hi e!) and we walked the dog and put our pajamas on. It was the exceedingly early hour of 5:30 pm but we were both fighting exhaustion and illness (m has had a wretched unshakeable cough) so we felt zero remorse about being in for the night, even if night was several hours out. we sat quietly and read in the living room - m is reading salmon rushdie, i'm reading the making of the empire strikes back (don't ask). at one point we started to discuss plans for the wknd but quickly agreed to not discuss anything related to the weekend. instead we ordered a pizza and watched 3 episodes of treme and went to bed. it was a glorious afternoon/evening.
saturday, i made breakfast. we finalized and sent out invites for our party/bbq/shower (a surprisingly stress-inducing undertaking). despite the weather report the sun was out. we walked the treme dvd down to clinton street video, hoping to get the next disc but it was not to be. we put our name on a reservation list. we looked at a store that combines babyness with ecological sanctity. we walked to a cafe on division and drank waters and tried to decide whether or not to go see a movie. we walked to hawthorne and ate frozen yogurt. we stopped in jackpot records and bought things (m got tv on the radio on vinyl, i got the new figurines, we ordered the new bill callahan b/c they were out). we walked home.
we took naps. we got a call from clinton street video saying the next disc of treme was in. we decided it was fate deciding our night. m went to get the dvd while i walked the dog. we got into our pajamas. we reheated the leftover pizza. we were in for the night.
sunday, i awoke in a sort of panic. i am shooting a short film in a few wks and there are multiple threads and strands that i have to address. i scrambled into my office and began listing them all, began multiple emails to various peoples regarding various aspects of the production. i storyboarded most of the movie. i sat down and had coffee as i read 'the making of vertigo'. later i watched david cronenberg's videodrome (which is interesting not only b/c the last time i saw it was 20 years ago, which you can verify at the picture of my journal from this recent interview w/ me and not only b/c the movie is fucked up and fantastic but also b/c it features a character getting a brain tumor and naming his brain tumor Videodrome. when i got my brain tumor i named it 'marla singer' after a line of dialogue in the movie fight club but if i had recalled this movie at the time i may have named it videodrome instead). we left the house (!) and picked up C and went to the laurelhurst theater to see Vertigo which, was stupendously jaw-dropping and affecting and effective even though i'd seen before and even though the print was faded, nicked and less-than-stellar. we came home and ate a late dinner (w/ the corn tortillas C had made) and watched another 'treme'.
monday, i woke to an email that had repercussion for the short film, that contributed to snarling a scheduling problem that i had unsnarled before that would take 3 shooting nights down to 2 and all the attendant haste/error/issue therein. it burned in my gut and i felt a low-grade depression, a malaise spreading through me. all my internal-voice doubt spigots were activated and began flowing. i read interview w/ david cronenberg wherein he cites orson welles' quote about how a director merely presides over a series of accidents, about the illusion of control and i felt mildly better. my dad picked me up and we went to the living room theaters to see werner herzog's 3D 'cave of forgotten dreams', which helped put my small concerns in perspective and which was also awesome. after, we went to hopworks and talked about baby things. later, back at home, we took the dog to the dogpark to throw tennis balls. we came home and i assembled a stroller. (note: seeing it in the corner now, existing, waiting for a passenger, is a strange odd scary thing). we ate dinner and mailed thank you cards for said stroller. we watched the end of season 1 of treme, which rocked our world. already planning to re-watch at some point down the road when we've fully digested/processed. this AM it was the first thing we both thought about.
thank you weekend. i loved you so.