the hours.
confession: my two worst cravings are for tobacco and ink.
i often purchase films, watch them a couple of times, and put them on my shelf to gather dust. like so many things in my life, i am interested in films only when the mood strikes. there are a few, however, which i come back to over and over and over. films filled with visual trickery and character flaws and bits of stray dialogue that i find completely inspiring. a single sentence can be... a thought, a feeling, a universe. an entire microcosm. a revelation in a simple, common sentence. the inner dialogue fascinates me. it's never a monologue, there are too many voices inside one's head. not the proverbial crazy voices, but the ones that exist within each whole person. the ones telling you to be selfish, the ones telling you to reach for god, the ones wondering what you need at the grocery store and how you're going to pay your next phone bill, the voices telling you to give up, crawl in a hole, and die. the voice, small, (the antithesis of the little man) that tells you that you can make it, here.
a woman's whole life, in a single day.
is it possible? that we can measure a life in a day? can we understand how she works, how she thinks, why she picks roses instead of lilies, why she visits a friend... why she loves, why she hates, why she continues though it seems pointless. women especially seem prone to this. prone to continuing.
on.
i often purchase films, watch them a couple of times, and put them on my shelf to gather dust. like so many things in my life, i am interested in films only when the mood strikes. there are a few, however, which i come back to over and over and over. films filled with visual trickery and character flaws and bits of stray dialogue that i find completely inspiring. a single sentence can be... a thought, a feeling, a universe. an entire microcosm. a revelation in a simple, common sentence. the inner dialogue fascinates me. it's never a monologue, there are too many voices inside one's head. not the proverbial crazy voices, but the ones that exist within each whole person. the ones telling you to be selfish, the ones telling you to reach for god, the ones wondering what you need at the grocery store and how you're going to pay your next phone bill, the voices telling you to give up, crawl in a hole, and die. the voice, small, (the antithesis of the little man) that tells you that you can make it, here.
a woman's whole life, in a single day.
is it possible? that we can measure a life in a day? can we understand how she works, how she thinks, why she picks roses instead of lilies, why she visits a friend... why she loves, why she hates, why she continues though it seems pointless. women especially seem prone to this. prone to continuing.
on.