more later
(edited 09/07/05 11am)
THE MAGIC MOVIE-MAKING MACHINE is visiting, laid out on the street in front of my parents' store. My parents are used to the spectacle; I can't help peeking out. What I don't understand is why crews look earnest while lugging their equipment about. Making a film seems to me a ridiculous, childlike, fantastic and expensive affair. Light through a giant box. Metres sliding on rails to keep them level. Actors, pores whited out so that their faces, in a stirring way, perhaps evokes masks used by the ancient Athenians. From the point of view of the Yaletown pigeons, or this girl's playing God imagination, such coerced machinations must look rehearsed in themselves.
Our move went smoothly. We woke 15 min. before the movers arrived. We don't have a phone line in yet, since we forgot about it, so the best way to reach me is on my cell. The evenings in Vancouver have turned nippy, I can't go out with bare ankles anymore, but I can't let go of my summer clothing. The #99 is once again full of scarved students, waiting to wake up, which will only partially happen in late October.
THE MAGIC MOVIE-MAKING MACHINE is visiting, laid out on the street in front of my parents' store. My parents are used to the spectacle; I can't help peeking out. What I don't understand is why crews look earnest while lugging their equipment about. Making a film seems to me a ridiculous, childlike, fantastic and expensive affair. Light through a giant box. Metres sliding on rails to keep them level. Actors, pores whited out so that their faces, in a stirring way, perhaps evokes masks used by the ancient Athenians. From the point of view of the Yaletown pigeons, or this girl's playing God imagination, such coerced machinations must look rehearsed in themselves.
Our move went smoothly. We woke 15 min. before the movers arrived. We don't have a phone line in yet, since we forgot about it, so the best way to reach me is on my cell. The evenings in Vancouver have turned nippy, I can't go out with bare ankles anymore, but I can't let go of my summer clothing. The #99 is once again full of scarved students, waiting to wake up, which will only partially happen in late October.