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Fortune Love You
Jun. 11th, 2007 10:23 pmBrian, the head of the screenwriting department and my personal tutor, is fond of saying that we make sense of the events of our lives by turning them into stories. This is what makes myths, scripts, and superstitions attractive. So long as Ciro is delayed indefinitely, I am terrified that some serious injury will befall me simply because it would be tragic and moving. Perhaps this is the influence of my Uncle Rex, who sometimes makes life choices based on what would make a better movie. (Since good movies tend to involve a lot of conflict and success against impossible odds, Uncle Rex is usually tense and almost always disappointed.)
Meanwhile, there are many things which do not fit into the Romie-as-tragic story, or in fact any story. Sometime this week, I woke up to discover that I suddenly have a bedside table, with a lamp on it and everything. Editing has been going smoothly, and while my film won't be sweeping Cannes any time soon, I'm happy with it. I'm getting along with Les now, and we even have some kind-of inside jokes - despite ribbing me for being "an intellectual," he is now delightedly using painting-related trivia from my script. I revisited The Enterprise, where the TV was tuned to Formula 1 racing and Janis Joplin was on the radio. There can be no doubt that this is my pub.
I went to the British Library, where I saw Scott's arctic diary, the logbook of H.M.S. Victory 21 October 1805, the Stamp Act stamps, the Lindisfarne Gospels, Seamus Heany's notes while translating Beowulf, Jane Austen's writing desk, the original handwritten first drafts of Alice in Wonderland, The Jungle Book, and Finnegan's Wake, a letter from Newton to Hooke (not as cool as the reverse would have been), and the Magna Carta. THAT'S RIGHT - THE MAGNA CARTA. I HAVE SEEN IT IN PERSON. I SHOULD AUTOMATICALLY BE GRANTED EXTRA CIVIL RIGHTS.
(What form these rights would take I cannot say. The right to receive service at restaurants even if I am not wearing shoes? The right to go into a bookstore and read a book without buying it? The right to carry explosives across state lines? All of these and more. I should have my own stamp, like a notary public.)
I thought about going to a sheep shearing because when in doubt, livestock - but decided it was too far away to be convenient. Instead, I hung out with some sculptures in the crypt underneath St. Pancras' Church, and then went to Camden Market, which turns out to be within comfortable walking distance. There's this asian food section that looks like a cross between Blade Runner and Temple of Doom. And with that, I have decided that Deckard is a descendant of Indiana Jones, further proof that he is not a replicant (the primary proof being that it would be lame).
Also:
-I have become passing infatuated with Moroccan Jewish wedding customs, mainly because of an outfit known as "The Great Dress."
-earlier today, I heard midnight referred to as "night's noon."
-apparently, thanks to the 1960 film Exodus (starring Paul Newman), a lot of Americans thought for a long time that the Palestinians were perfectly happy about Israel, and were just being stirred up by Nazis or Commies or vampires or something.
-I rewatched part of Thief of Bagdad (I love that movie), and I think they used some of the same sets in Kismet. Apparently, the production went through six directors and had to relocate from the UK to the US because of the blitz; you can tell which scenes were shot in America because the actresses' tops are buttoned all the way up to satisfy the Hays Office.
I'm about a third of the way through the notebook I started a month ago, even though I don't feel like I've been writing much. Mainly...I live in a little camera in Ciro's computer, but he lives in my notebook. I can write things down instead of wandering the city alone like a ghost.
Meanwhile, there are many things which do not fit into the Romie-as-tragic story, or in fact any story. Sometime this week, I woke up to discover that I suddenly have a bedside table, with a lamp on it and everything. Editing has been going smoothly, and while my film won't be sweeping Cannes any time soon, I'm happy with it. I'm getting along with Les now, and we even have some kind-of inside jokes - despite ribbing me for being "an intellectual," he is now delightedly using painting-related trivia from my script. I revisited The Enterprise, where the TV was tuned to Formula 1 racing and Janis Joplin was on the radio. There can be no doubt that this is my pub.
I went to the British Library, where I saw Scott's arctic diary, the logbook of H.M.S. Victory 21 October 1805, the Stamp Act stamps, the Lindisfarne Gospels, Seamus Heany's notes while translating Beowulf, Jane Austen's writing desk, the original handwritten first drafts of Alice in Wonderland, The Jungle Book, and Finnegan's Wake, a letter from Newton to Hooke (not as cool as the reverse would have been), and the Magna Carta. THAT'S RIGHT - THE MAGNA CARTA. I HAVE SEEN IT IN PERSON. I SHOULD AUTOMATICALLY BE GRANTED EXTRA CIVIL RIGHTS.
(What form these rights would take I cannot say. The right to receive service at restaurants even if I am not wearing shoes? The right to go into a bookstore and read a book without buying it? The right to carry explosives across state lines? All of these and more. I should have my own stamp, like a notary public.)
I thought about going to a sheep shearing because when in doubt, livestock - but decided it was too far away to be convenient. Instead, I hung out with some sculptures in the crypt underneath St. Pancras' Church, and then went to Camden Market, which turns out to be within comfortable walking distance. There's this asian food section that looks like a cross between Blade Runner and Temple of Doom. And with that, I have decided that Deckard is a descendant of Indiana Jones, further proof that he is not a replicant (the primary proof being that it would be lame).
Also:
-I have become passing infatuated with Moroccan Jewish wedding customs, mainly because of an outfit known as "The Great Dress."
-earlier today, I heard midnight referred to as "night's noon."
-apparently, thanks to the 1960 film Exodus (starring Paul Newman), a lot of Americans thought for a long time that the Palestinians were perfectly happy about Israel, and were just being stirred up by Nazis or Commies or vampires or something.
-I rewatched part of Thief of Bagdad (I love that movie), and I think they used some of the same sets in Kismet. Apparently, the production went through six directors and had to relocate from the UK to the US because of the blitz; you can tell which scenes were shot in America because the actresses' tops are buttoned all the way up to satisfy the Hays Office.
I'm about a third of the way through the notebook I started a month ago, even though I don't feel like I've been writing much. Mainly...I live in a little camera in Ciro's computer, but he lives in my notebook. I can write things down instead of wandering the city alone like a ghost.
