(no subject)
Despite having a blog for the good part of a decade I don't often update, I think much of this comes from my expectations about what a blog is, namely a place to record unmediated experiences and emotions. However, I am a reader. When I am not reading I am watching films. On tuesday and wednesday evenings I am improvising. Shadowplay, wendy houses and footprints are the pulse of my experience. Day-to-day moment-by-moment I am not me, I am emphatically other people, who were in turn emphatically inhabited by the people who created them; I am emphatically being people who are not anyone. Laura Mulvey writes of films that they are death 24 times a second. 24 frames in a second. Each frame a still image. Movement is the no.1 sign of life. No movement = death. Films are death 24 times a second. Chains of dead photos. Simulated fountains of ash. If you're a film student then you're Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense thinking that you're living, taking and making stories; but really you're a ghost detective reading ghosts, breathing ghosts. The stories you made were just angels made in television snow and as soon as the Real blows the animating dust out your sockets and the grit falls upon your mouth, saliva-snow dissolving on your chin as if it was never there, you're gawping open-hinged like Pinocchio who dreamt he was a real boy. A CGI piñata who thought his hopelessly hollow fingers were skeleton keys - that he could somehow unlock the secrets to life if he just opened enough locked diaries. Well, it's been a pretty patchwork but I've got to start writing my own.