I have been having vivid dreams lately and I think they may be a result of being sick and going through caffeine withdrawal. I rarely have dreams or at least dreams that I remember so I’m going to document them in this here journal. WELCOME TO MY DREAM JOURNAL DURRR
Blogging dreams! Hell, I’m going to make a new WordPress category for it. Too bad this dream constitutes a nightmare.
Ok so the dream starts with me being pulled into a crowded banquet hall by my friends. It’s completely packed with everyone I have grown up, went to school, or worked with. Pretty much anyone I could consider a peer or younger that I have encountered in my life crammed in a banquet hall serving a buffet dinner. I get shoved a plate and am trying to get some food from the tables. Everyone is drunk and laughing at me while pushing me around. I lift the lid off every food warmer to find nothing is left. A server scrapes through some sauce at the bottom of a warmer and dumps some veggie bits into my plate as another server throws some left over pizza in an oven for me. The servers aren’t taking me too seriously as I clearly came late and missed dinner. They leave the pizza leftovers in the oven for too long and hand me back charred black slices. I end up throwing my plate in the garbage and that’s when everyone in the hall begins to laugh at me.
That’s when I wake up, say “fuck you, subconscious,” and make something to eat.
Not all filmmakers can be considered to be cinematic authors and stand amongst the ranks of the Hitchcocks, the Hawkes’s, and the Langs. Very few directors have the opportunity to embed their personal creative vision and have a distinct voice shine through all the studio interference one faces in the world of commercial film-making. Through watching the films crafted by their auteurs, we are given the opportunity to step inside the psyche of the director. This, in turn, helps us build a better understanding of their perception of the world through their exploration of themes and motifs using technical and creative mastery. Roman Polanski’s The Ghost Writer (2010) is an example of a film richly encoded with the director’s strong ideological views on gender, displacement, and the media, which solidify Polanski as an auteur once these themes are compared to his prior work and personal life. Continue reading
Heads up! I’m going to start posting my favourite papers I wrote in school because it’s an excuse for me to read them again and sometimes I like to share. I mean I studied film so it should be of some interest to someone. This is totally not a thinly veiled way of posting pre made content and being lazy.
After years of using social media through Facebook, Twitter, and Google products I have come to realize that you can learn a lot about yourself and others by what the Internet is marketing to you.
When I see ads and how accurate they are in pinpointing who I am and what I want it really creeps me out. I quickly think back of what I may have posted to a feed, watched a clip of, or chatted about to warrant the advertisements. Which in my case are for hair plugs, body waxing, and embarrassingly specific types of dating services. I totally understand the fear of the power of having unbridled access to such data creates.
I wonder how much a bald, hairy, single in their 30s is worth to online advertisers. There must be a website that takes all your social network information and tells you how much advertisers bid for your attention. How much am I worth to a corporation? Can governments see how much I am worth to society? I guess this data would be useful to a human resources department to filter through job applicants. Imagine to apply for work you have to sign into a HR site through your Facebook or Twitter account which searched for keywords to flag. I’m assuming all this already exists and it’s why everyone is unemployed.
It was the year 2006. I had just turned 23 and was living in Shizuoka, Japan while teaching English and growing marijuana in my sliding door closet. My father had mailed me seeds upon request and I acquired all my grow supplies from “The Daiso” 100-yen shop across the street from my cramped little danchi apartment. It took me 4 months to grow from start to finish and if I was ever caught, I would’ve been facing up to 12 years’ imprisonment.
I am compelled to write. You should write, Billy. Time to write.
Stop thinking that you are writing for an audience or that you shouldn’t say certain things and censor yourself in fear of big brother because then you are dishonest. Dishonest people are in sales or politics and not in the creative field of work. However, these business minded individuals don’t consider themselves dishonest as they are simply articulating the truth. Does that make sense? Yeah, it should. These folks guide your focus towards something else to benefit themselves but yo who cares about that.
Because it’s time to write. You got to write and do things you love over and over again for you to get better until you are the best. And once you are the best don’t stop.
There is a word counter at the bottom and I will force myself to hit 500 words as a measure of accomplishment. I will also refrain from cursing unless it is absolutely necessary because I believe I curse a lot and it cheapens my writing or takes away the thunder from lightening. Whatever that means.
Stream of conscious used to be fun when I was young and O! did it ever flow from my fingertips onto the keyboard. I was so good at it that I stopped and decided to focus on other things to deliver my thoughts such as performing and film making. What a big mistake that I must correct immediately. Time to write every night and repent to the demon that lives beneath my fingertips.
But didn’t you write while you were earning that expensive bachelor degree? Why yes I did and none of it was creative. Academic writing was soul crushingly yet I still had a glimmer of joy from typing words and holding a printed document I created. I’m sure deep in the subconscious I have etched an ability to fully form arguments and present my ideas in a more coherent way then what you are reading right now but that will all come together once I put more time in exercising the creative side again. I will also take the time to read through my writings once to fix glaring mistakes and hopefully expand on ideas. There I just read through it once again which I regret because I ain’t done yet.
Time to write. I must write every night and grow back the cystic notches on my wrists that accompany the carpal tunnel I developed in my youth. These hands are no long devices solely used for gaming and maiming my reproductive tenders. Juice shall flow from my index, middle, ring and pinky every night. Let it flow unto you kind reader. Seeker of inner truth. I shall be nothing but a conduit. A servant. A serpent. These absurd words I bring to you are in exercise of my ability to express emotion and explore the human condition.
Get it out. Write it out of me. Get all these words out until I am able to say something. It takes time and it’s ugly, unpolished, and raw. But it must be done as it is now time to write.
I was supposed to do an open mic this Monday and hopefully every Monday but I have the shits. I have contracted a terrible stomach flu and have been blowing shit bubbles out of my ass for the past week. I think I lost 10 lbs.
Anyways, Ben still went out and did two shows and gave me a full report. I’m glad he did those shows because it made me realize something really basic about writing new material which I have long forgotten:
Write material that I find funny. I have been thinking too hard trying to come up with jokes others will find funny. That is not how to do it. The good stuff are the things I personally think will be funny (to myself, me, Billy) to say or do in front of a live audience. Troll the audience. Bombard them with Tetris blocks of nonsense I giggle at alone in my room. Be my goddamn self. This sounds like basic Tony Robbins self help bullshit but I keep forgetting it so I need to remind myself on the daily.
So my goal for next open mic is to bombard the audience with the shit I find funny and then take note to what we both find funny. Then take that shit and expand on it.
What I learned: If it doesn’t make me laugh, fuck it.