I have so many mosquito bites… I will be a walking collage of welts by the last week… maybe i should switch and become a performance artist....
My mother’s birthday was yesterday. YAY MOM! She’s very excited about my being here. (Well, I suppose anyone would be if it turned out they figured prominently into my book.)
I called her to congratulate her and she was still insisting that if by some miracle this book gets optioned for a film that Sophia Loren play her. HA! Right, mom. Sophia Loren (Italian, tall, D cup) cast as you (Filipino, short, A cup).
I’ve never been to Sweden but I wonder if this is what it feels like. The days and nights come and go. I see the rising and the setting of the sun but time really has no meaning here. It’s very discombobulating. When it’s light out, it could be 7 or 12 or 4 and when it’s dark it could be 7 or 12 or 4. We are all working and playing diligently at so many different hours.
Martha said something so true the other night. She said that if we were all scientists, the writers would be the anthropologists, the composers would be the physicists and the visual artists would be the chemists. Talking to the writers does seem like a study in people and culture – we’re always talking about the dynamics of ACA and new Smyrna, the parallels between people of large cosmopolitan cities and small insular towns, movies, music, etc.... We talk around and around in circles and we challenge each others perspectives and theories of what motivates us, people and groups, etc…
I have talked to most of the other associates except for the visual artists who kinda intimidate me, just like they did in art school.
The composers are very friendly and curious and they’re always very inviting, “come sit with us” or “I can’t wait to read your final draft.” But, soon the composers conversations turn to theories and their vocabulary becomes so dense and almost ethereal that personally, I get completely lost. It’s almost like they're literally speaking in experimental music around me. Their voices are their instruments. They rest and pause, speed up and show emotion just as they would in an actual compostion. Their syllables are the notes and sounds. It's quite lyrical.
The visual artists are mostly mixed media or collage artists except for Steed it seems. But, what little experience I’ve had with them. It’s amazing what small things inspire them and how everything seems to influence and make their presence known in their work – dancing, music, prose, reality, fantasy, found object, craft, emotions, etc.. To me, it does seem like they have the ability to take anything and everything and mix it all together and then systematically shave away at their creation and distill it down to a final statement.
Anyway, writing went really well yesterday. I still feel like I’m walking around in the dark but every once in a while a light turns on for a second so I can see where I’m going. My brain was so knackered yesterday with plot twists and characters that I really needed to veg out in front of the tv. I can’t believe I missed Alias and totally forgot about it. Not that there’s a tv in the "island colony" to watch it on. But, still…
You’ll be happy to know that I found out about the whole manuscript thing –btw. Jessica asked me if my work was double or single spaced. I said single not knowing why she was asking. So, I asked Mae and now I feel like an idiot. Most of the writers here are really putting the finishing touches on pretty much final drafts or at least that’s my impression… So, there are a few associate writers here with 200+ pages of work. So, I’m thinking this whole time that everyone is single spacing like me… Not so, grasshopper. So, I double spaced my work and switched fonts to Times New Roman and Eureka! I had something ridiculous like twice or three times the # of pages… I no longer feel like a slug on the associate writers evolutionary chain. I think I may have developed into a reptile of some sort.
I was feeling a little dizzy yesterday so, I bowed out of going to Jessica and David’s appearance in town. I just needed some Mamazilla time. I borrowed a movie from Jessica that I’ve been dying to see, Almodovar’s Talk to Her. What a lovely film. But I have to admit I was waiting and waiting for some crazy background story and the film continued it’s story arc and ended. That was the most “normal” almodovar movie I think I’ve ever seen - maybe "accessible" is the right word. Which is not said to insult the movie or imply that the movie was lacking in some way – I LOVED this movie. It was so moving and beautiful and hopeful. I marvel at how almodovar can make me sympathize with his characters especially the character Benigno in this film. His movies always tease me into contemplating life as a homeless person in Barcelona without hesitation or complaint.
By the time the movie ended it was 2 am or so and f*ck if I was going to write a journal post then. Anyway, it’s time for me to shower and get my day underway. I think were actually holding workshop at the beach today! I will endeavor to keep sand away from my laptop here and most importantly away from any bodily crevices. OLE!
hours later.... i've been outed. the blog has been read by some associates... pray i don't get my *ss kicked.
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