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I'm a little manic this morning.
It's 11:45 am and I feel like I've done a thousand things, though really I just did some work around the office and paid a couple bills and mailed off a couple submissions including a story to The Paris Review which is quite a longshot. But I'm sort of treating it like buying a lottery ticket -- I mean, someone has to win, right? Someone has to get picked and published, so why not me? Plus, they don't require a cover letter. I loved that. There just like "send us your story and if we like it we'll print it" which I'm sure name recognition could benefit, but hey, let's give it a shot. After the post office, I went and bought blank CDs and picked up a couple clearance records for a gig and then I came back and made phone calls about lighting rental vs. purchase and now I'm back at the desk and I need a nap.
Or a second cup of coffee.
Yesterday I decided I needed to do something nice for myself and what's one of my favorite things in the whole world to do? Because I can just do it. So I went to a movie right after work. And lucky me, Lowenstein was available and came with me. We saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which I was initially lukewarm about seeing, but then last week I learned that Michel Gondry directed it and I was excited. What can I say about this movie that hasn't been said? Or that I even want to say? I loved it. Many topics of the mind come to mind, but this one I thought of this morning while walking to the train.
I love directors who capture what it's like to be in a dream. Film has come a long way in that arena from the Dali dream sequence days of Hitchcock's Spellbound. I'm constantly amazed when I actually see in front of my eyes while awake the type of images and narratives I've only experienced in my unconscious. Gondry is good at this, Julie Taymor did it for me, and others have recently, including television shows. So this morning I think -- if these mediums (media?) are starting to capture what was previously unseen by physical eyes (versus mind eyes), how will this effect my unconscious? Or the collective human unconscious in general? How will dreams change now that dreams can be replicated? Will they evolve to something even more difficult to capture? Will language then become even more remote in it's ability to reflect the unconscious?
I'm curious to find out.
Tonight I'm going to a murder mystery dinner party, playing the part of a young, handsome, rough and tumble cowboy. My friends rock.
It's 11:45 am and I feel like I've done a thousand things, though really I just did some work around the office and paid a couple bills and mailed off a couple submissions including a story to The Paris Review which is quite a longshot. But I'm sort of treating it like buying a lottery ticket -- I mean, someone has to win, right? Someone has to get picked and published, so why not me? Plus, they don't require a cover letter. I loved that. There just like "send us your story and if we like it we'll print it" which I'm sure name recognition could benefit, but hey, let's give it a shot. After the post office, I went and bought blank CDs and picked up a couple clearance records for a gig and then I came back and made phone calls about lighting rental vs. purchase and now I'm back at the desk and I need a nap.
Or a second cup of coffee.
Yesterday I decided I needed to do something nice for myself and what's one of my favorite things in the whole world to do? Because I can just do it. So I went to a movie right after work. And lucky me, Lowenstein was available and came with me. We saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which I was initially lukewarm about seeing, but then last week I learned that Michel Gondry directed it and I was excited. What can I say about this movie that hasn't been said? Or that I even want to say? I loved it. Many topics of the mind come to mind, but this one I thought of this morning while walking to the train.
I love directors who capture what it's like to be in a dream. Film has come a long way in that arena from the Dali dream sequence days of Hitchcock's Spellbound. I'm constantly amazed when I actually see in front of my eyes while awake the type of images and narratives I've only experienced in my unconscious. Gondry is good at this, Julie Taymor did it for me, and others have recently, including television shows. So this morning I think -- if these mediums (media?) are starting to capture what was previously unseen by physical eyes (versus mind eyes), how will this effect my unconscious? Or the collective human unconscious in general? How will dreams change now that dreams can be replicated? Will they evolve to something even more difficult to capture? Will language then become even more remote in it's ability to reflect the unconscious?
I'm curious to find out.
Tonight I'm going to a murder mystery dinner party, playing the part of a young, handsome, rough and tumble cowboy. My friends rock.
