Every once in awhile I'll see a film that makes me want to finish one of the many stories in my head. I saw lost in translation Monday night, after many people had told me how great a film it was, I thought I should. I really liked it, I thought it something I would like to have done. I'm not going to review the film, I hate doing that, I am going to write a little about the effect films I like have on me, most notably the want or need to put the stories in my head down on paper. I tend to think in film, small scenes and such, as you might have noticed from previous entry's, some are bits of larger pieces, some are starter points.

Sometimes I have very cinematic dreams, such as my Paris dream. ( The I dreamt of Paris mix CD was based on this dream.) Set in the not so distant future, I saw buildings grow from seeds of nano-technology and travel across the globe become as commonplace as taking the train to the suburbs. But it was only a backdrop for an escape from life/ love story. Someday soon I will write whole story so people can read it.

I guess I should have a point to this, I will be writing more of these stories and maybe posting them, but I will endeavor to flesh them out more than I have been. I think will still write the ultra short "events" that I have been writing, but I think they will be replaced with the big stories as time goes on.

The four titles one should look for in the future at this blog;
The quiet guy or The man who died
Bobby typewriter
Paris
After ( I started it as an "event" but it's part of something bigger.)

The lake moved like a velvet blanket in slow motion, the ice broken yet together, moving with the waves. The winds and violent waters off in the distance creating this slow motion event, the ice build up against the pylons and pears an interesting byproduct. The blanket seemed as if it was the opening of a film, waiting for the music to start. The moon ascended in the distance early in the afternoon, and quickly moved behind the clouds as the light dimmed, and the blanket disappeared into darkness.

I'm going to work all weekend. I say that a lot, but I mean it this weekend. I need to finish some paintings and some of the displays I've been working on. A few weeks ago, I went to an alumni thing and met up with some old friends of friends. Of course the topic of painting came up, how can people afford it, how do you deal with issues of size, part of that pesky money thing. Basically, everyone is working small on canvas and larger on paper. I have always been of the big canvas crowd, but not too big, I don't have the space to work as big as I would like, the Anselm Kiefer size canvases and such. I work at the modest size of 2 1/2 by 3 1/2, I think. I like this size, it works for me.

Lately, I've been drawn to a smaller canvas size, the square 12 inch and 15 inch canvases. The of blood and blue fish painting is a 15 by 15; it is an intimate size, easy to work on and easy to store.

Anyway, I built a few 15 by 15's and 12 by 12's so hopefully I'll have some new paintings/ works done in the next few weeks. Then I'll work on the big ones.

Today is my birthday, I am older again. I am now thirty-two. I never feel old, I always think of myself as young, that must be a good thing.

I have no clue what I am going to do today, I have the day off, I thought about going out today and picking up a typewriter I found at an antique mall the other day, but I decided it can wait. It is a cool typewriter, aqua paint and portable. If I got it, that would bring my total to ten. All I need is a space to put them on display, maybe I'll design a display case for them.

I think I will just do what I always do, work on something like a painting or some of the new cards I have been designing.

I have become the go to guy for displays for crafty folk, I am designing/ building displays for Cinnamon and her purses, a sort of coat rack looking thing, it should be cool when I'm done. I've done display racks for a few jewel makers in the past few months, and I think I have some lined up for the future. Anyway, now I need to design displays for my stuff, I haven't been concentrating on my junk for some time now. The hazards of being a nice guy.

Well, if I decide to do something fun tonight, I will let people know, I think it will be low key like most of the things I do.

The door opened and he stepped through, closing it behind him. He fell, back against the door, shirt splattered with blood, exhausted. He slammed his arm at the wall, leaving a hole the size and shape of his forearm and closed fist. He looked up and saw the last photograph of his wife and daughter on the mantel. They were caught in the middle, the shotgun blast was meant for him.

After we kissed, something must have happened, something not all that good. I remember sitting on the steps of our apartment by myself and the large gray door opening. She walked out into the orange fall sky. I asked if she wanted to talk, she stopped, with her back towards me, she said she needed to think, and walked away into the crowd of people across the street by the lake. I could see her for a time, and I finally lost her in the sea of fall.

I have been having issues with the computer I use of late, hence no blogging. Need new 'puter.