the puppy is dead, the snake lives on

Last night I had a very vivid dream in which someone had given me a very small puppy and a snake as gifts.  Unthinkingly, I left them alone together in the house, and when I returned to the house the snake had eaten the puppy.  This made me very sad, as I liked the puppy much more than the snake.  I’d spent lots of dream-time thinking of a good name for her, but I forget what I eventually decided on.  It doesn’t matter anymore, anyhow — the puppy is dead, the snake lives on. 

In lieu of

Desklamp
Strange and vivid dreams these last few nights.  On Thursday and Friday I was dating two women I know here in Savannah, and last night I was drinking and having a serious conversation about something with my cousin Joe.  When I woke up each morning I remained haunted by one aspect of each dream — in the first two it was that I was not dating either of the two women I know here in Savannah, and in the last it was that I couldn’t remember what me and Joe were talking about. 

I ended up at a keg party on Friday night, which is a place I haven’t ended up at for years.  It was fun, in that college keg party sorta way.  People (not I) did keg stands, and I ate tortilla chips without any salsa.

I also played a lemonade vendor and a dead party guest in two student films, and made the mistake of eating a Monte Cristo at Bennigan’s.  Don’t worry — it’s gone now, it was gone about an hour after I ate it.  I think that’s what Monte Cristo’s do — they go, they go very quickly.

Tonight I spent many hours in the editing lab, and then biked home without enough clothes on, and now I am feeling pre-head cold.  I may skip work tomorrow morning, in lieu of which I will rest and read Art History.  In lieu of working, that is, not of skipping work.

I miss the past.

I got a postcard from Pondichery, India today.  It was from Mary & Kevin — two of my closest friends from my time in South Korea — and getting it has thrown me for a strange and inexpressable emotional loss that I am unable to easily articulate. 

I miss my friends, I miss living in a place that was difficult to the point of distraction, I miss being happy at just having sucessfully ordered a meal, I miss not knowing where I’m going to be living next month, I miss moving.

I miss the past.  So much living means so much more to be nostalgic about.

Bottleneck

Bottleneck

Rococrappy

I’m sitting in my Postproduction class, waiting for my midterm review.  I should be working on my next project, which is due in a week, but I am instead attempting to transfer my work from last quarter onto my USB drive so that I can make a reel to use for scholarship applications.  It makes sense to me.

I got a C+ on my second Art History exam, which indicates that I really need to study harder in order to get the required B in the class.  I’m much more interested in the material we’re studying now — impressionism, realism, photography, etc… — so I’m hoping this will make studying it less tedious.  Studying the Baroque was Baroring, and studying the Rococo was Rococrappy.

The first draft of my screenplay has gotten some good responses, but I am still generally unhappy with it.  In class yesterday my professor said that I could call it done, but I don’t feel that it is even close — it’s not a script I would be happy shooting yet, which is something I’m planning to do sometime in the next year.  Positive feedback feels good, though, despite the fact that I continue to find ways to dismiss it.

I began eating sushi last week, and I have yet to stop.

I met a German girl on Valentine’s Day, and I have yet to call her.

Life continues.

I won’t make you

      Thirteen ~ Elliott Smith

uncool

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool."
~Cameron Crowe, Almost Famous

Random things…

Random things…

Next quarter I am taking:

  • Intro to Film Production
  • Television Comedy Writing
  • Graduate Sound Design

While taking a shower earlier today I thought of things I will never forget, among them…

  • My father calling me to tell me my grandmother was dying.
  • Seeing my girlfriend’s car in his driveway, again.
  • The first time I heard Bill Hicks.
  • Buying a pack of Camel Lights at a Rite-Aid in Cleveland on 9/11.
  • Crapping my pants while grocery shopping in Rocky River.
  • The email my girlfriend sent me the day after I arrived in South Korea.
  • My mother pounding my back when I was sick with pneumonia.
  • Kissing my first girlfriend again, more than fifteen years later.
  • My father saying "your mother ruins sun visors."
  • Having drinks with my cousins after my grandmother’s funeral.

My Valentine’s Day proved good, yet perplexing.  Long story short:  I have a phone number and no idea what to do with it.

So it goes.