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rinue[I wrote the beginning of this entry yesterday, whilst in Cumbria without a computer.]
Shot in London all day, then drove four hours north in preparation for a shoot tomorrow. Our exit from the M1 is also the exit for the National Armoury and a football field; to illustrate this, the road sign has a picture of a curly-horned helmet and beneath it, a soccer ball. I only ascertained this as I passed within a few feet of the sign; until then, I was perplexed and alarmed by the need to mark a turn with an icon of a uterus and fallopian tubes followed by a biohazard symbol.
The country here is gorgeous - flat and desolate. We are staying in a voluminous but cozy Victorian farmhouse overrun by books and dogs - the homestead of our director's girlfriend's family. I am quartered in the tiny top-floor bedroom of a younger sister, and it reminds me of my old bedroom in Ascot (where I lived when I was nine).
There's something about small English bedrooms that never fails to delight me. They have none of the awkwardness of small American bedrooms. Instead of seeming claustrophobic or crowded, shoved in a corner, their smallness emphasizes their function as private, a place for one person, a pleasant retreat into rest and seclusion.
Before sleep, crew and actor played the following game:
You die. God comes out to meet you and asks you what animal you would like to be reborn as, and why. (Humans and fictional animals not allowed.) God then tells you no, and asks for your second choice, and why. Again, God tells you no, and asks for your third choice, and why.
[If you're playing along, don't read further until you've answered.]
Supposedly, the first animal - and more importantly, the reasons you gave when describing that animal - is the way others see you, the image of your self that is reflected back to you. The second is who you are when you're not performing. The third is who you'd like to be.
I chose a dolphin first, because they are fast and jump around and are smart and laugh and make people happy and always seem to have a good time and can beat up sharks. Second, I chose the barn owl, because it has a different kind of vision than even other owls and it swoops down on things and is nocturnal and is largely left alone but nevertheless lives in a barn and not out in the wild and people like having it around and are benefited instead of put out by its speed, independence, and viciousness, which keeps pests at bay. My final choice was the elephant - empathetic, loving, part of a devoted family, graceful, wise.
In my journal, I have only mentioned the times when I have wanted to go faster than the rest of my crew, and should add that there are times when I want to go slower than the rest of my crew. Also, while it is certainly true that my contribution to the project has been substantial, it must be noted that the people I am working with are talented, fascinating people with unique approaches to the work at hand. It is also true that the learning curve on a shoot like this is steep; things that were bumbled the first day were clockwork by the second. It's hard to imagine a better experience or a better unit for it.
My main trouble at this point is the same as it has been, although my emotions about it have stabilized. Have perhaps stabilized to the point where it is no trouble. The trouble is that the work/art half of my life is in London and the love/home half of my life is in Boston; at present I can't have both at the same time. In essence, I have to make a philosophical choice about which is more important, and which can stand to be postponed. It's almost silly to worry about it, since it's only a postponement of a few months either way, and since I can still do work in Boston and am still in love when I am in London. Still, the choice between work and love is never one I've wanted to make - is one I've spent my life refusing to make, and I think I'm better for it.
Incidentally, my choice is still Ciro, and this is not a choice I can imagine regretting, although I can imagine regretting the other. As wonderful as this shoot has been - and as much as it underscores the fact that I want to be doing this - making films - all the time, for as long as possible... at the end of the day, I'd still rather have spent the week with Ciro. Perhaps that will not always be true in the future (and perhaps it will), but it is certainly true now, when the relationship is so new and so old - when there is so much time to catch up on, so many still-dark areas to explore.
Sensibly, I am postponing any definite decision for another month, which, through my cleverness, I am able to do.
The books I've been reading this week are:
- a biography of Scott of the Antarctic, who like me set off into unknown lands unprepared, with a spirit of adventure and melancholy...and froze to death, which I hope not to duplicate.
- Cupid and the King, a somewhat disorganized but overall acceptable book about influential and famous mistresses of kings.
- How to Travel with a Salmon, and other essays, by Umberto Eco - whose fiction I have never liked, but whose light essays are delightful. Either Emma or Sarah left a copy lying around, and being a compulsive reader, I couldn't resist. (If something's on a bookshelf, okay. But out on the table? Or tucked by a telephone? How other people can muster the strength to walk by is beyond me.)
- Adam Resurrected, borrowed from Dror, an Israeli LFS student with a film studies background and a portfolio of sometimes overly experimental and sometimes powerfully erotic art films. So far, I have not been able to make out what the central narrative of the book (translated from Hebrew) is about, although there is a brilliant vignette about a woman being bitten by extremely intrepid insects.
- The Fermata, by Nicholson Baker, swiped from my friend/crewmate Steve, although as usual, I announced loudly that I was swiping it and will replace it. Nevertheless, I insist it is ostentatiously stolen, and not borrowed, and the fact that I intent to return it does not diminish the fact that it is at present mine. And honestly, I don't feel that I'm stealing it from Steve so much as borrowing it from Ciro, who recommended it in the first place, and who turned me on to Nicholson Baker with The Mezzanine. Being as it is a highly sexual book, and one I associate with Ciro, and seeing as the two things I miss most at the moment are sex and Ciro (preferably in combination), my reading of this book might not be seen as wise. My decision to read it largely on the bus is perhaps downright perverse. Nevertheless, I am enjoying it immensely, and find it acts as a partial surrogate rather than a tease.
Shot in London all day, then drove four hours north in preparation for a shoot tomorrow. Our exit from the M1 is also the exit for the National Armoury and a football field; to illustrate this, the road sign has a picture of a curly-horned helmet and beneath it, a soccer ball. I only ascertained this as I passed within a few feet of the sign; until then, I was perplexed and alarmed by the need to mark a turn with an icon of a uterus and fallopian tubes followed by a biohazard symbol.
The country here is gorgeous - flat and desolate. We are staying in a voluminous but cozy Victorian farmhouse overrun by books and dogs - the homestead of our director's girlfriend's family. I am quartered in the tiny top-floor bedroom of a younger sister, and it reminds me of my old bedroom in Ascot (where I lived when I was nine).
There's something about small English bedrooms that never fails to delight me. They have none of the awkwardness of small American bedrooms. Instead of seeming claustrophobic or crowded, shoved in a corner, their smallness emphasizes their function as private, a place for one person, a pleasant retreat into rest and seclusion.
Before sleep, crew and actor played the following game:
You die. God comes out to meet you and asks you what animal you would like to be reborn as, and why. (Humans and fictional animals not allowed.) God then tells you no, and asks for your second choice, and why. Again, God tells you no, and asks for your third choice, and why.
[If you're playing along, don't read further until you've answered.]
Supposedly, the first animal - and more importantly, the reasons you gave when describing that animal - is the way others see you, the image of your self that is reflected back to you. The second is who you are when you're not performing. The third is who you'd like to be.
I chose a dolphin first, because they are fast and jump around and are smart and laugh and make people happy and always seem to have a good time and can beat up sharks. Second, I chose the barn owl, because it has a different kind of vision than even other owls and it swoops down on things and is nocturnal and is largely left alone but nevertheless lives in a barn and not out in the wild and people like having it around and are benefited instead of put out by its speed, independence, and viciousness, which keeps pests at bay. My final choice was the elephant - empathetic, loving, part of a devoted family, graceful, wise.
In my journal, I have only mentioned the times when I have wanted to go faster than the rest of my crew, and should add that there are times when I want to go slower than the rest of my crew. Also, while it is certainly true that my contribution to the project has been substantial, it must be noted that the people I am working with are talented, fascinating people with unique approaches to the work at hand. It is also true that the learning curve on a shoot like this is steep; things that were bumbled the first day were clockwork by the second. It's hard to imagine a better experience or a better unit for it.
My main trouble at this point is the same as it has been, although my emotions about it have stabilized. Have perhaps stabilized to the point where it is no trouble. The trouble is that the work/art half of my life is in London and the love/home half of my life is in Boston; at present I can't have both at the same time. In essence, I have to make a philosophical choice about which is more important, and which can stand to be postponed. It's almost silly to worry about it, since it's only a postponement of a few months either way, and since I can still do work in Boston and am still in love when I am in London. Still, the choice between work and love is never one I've wanted to make - is one I've spent my life refusing to make, and I think I'm better for it.
Incidentally, my choice is still Ciro, and this is not a choice I can imagine regretting, although I can imagine regretting the other. As wonderful as this shoot has been - and as much as it underscores the fact that I want to be doing this - making films - all the time, for as long as possible... at the end of the day, I'd still rather have spent the week with Ciro. Perhaps that will not always be true in the future (and perhaps it will), but it is certainly true now, when the relationship is so new and so old - when there is so much time to catch up on, so many still-dark areas to explore.
Sensibly, I am postponing any definite decision for another month, which, through my cleverness, I am able to do.
The books I've been reading this week are:
- a biography of Scott of the Antarctic, who like me set off into unknown lands unprepared, with a spirit of adventure and melancholy...and froze to death, which I hope not to duplicate.
- Cupid and the King, a somewhat disorganized but overall acceptable book about influential and famous mistresses of kings.
- How to Travel with a Salmon, and other essays, by Umberto Eco - whose fiction I have never liked, but whose light essays are delightful. Either Emma or Sarah left a copy lying around, and being a compulsive reader, I couldn't resist. (If something's on a bookshelf, okay. But out on the table? Or tucked by a telephone? How other people can muster the strength to walk by is beyond me.)
- Adam Resurrected, borrowed from Dror, an Israeli LFS student with a film studies background and a portfolio of sometimes overly experimental and sometimes powerfully erotic art films. So far, I have not been able to make out what the central narrative of the book (translated from Hebrew) is about, although there is a brilliant vignette about a woman being bitten by extremely intrepid insects.
- The Fermata, by Nicholson Baker, swiped from my friend/crewmate Steve, although as usual, I announced loudly that I was swiping it and will replace it. Nevertheless, I insist it is ostentatiously stolen, and not borrowed, and the fact that I intent to return it does not diminish the fact that it is at present mine. And honestly, I don't feel that I'm stealing it from Steve so much as borrowing it from Ciro, who recommended it in the first place, and who turned me on to Nicholson Baker with The Mezzanine. Being as it is a highly sexual book, and one I associate with Ciro, and seeing as the two things I miss most at the moment are sex and Ciro (preferably in combination), my reading of this book might not be seen as wise. My decision to read it largely on the bus is perhaps downright perverse. Nevertheless, I am enjoying it immensely, and find it acts as a partial surrogate rather than a tease.
