You get so used to watching your own film without music. It begins to feel like that's the natural ebb and flow of the film. You forget that eventually it will have the epic thrust of music at all. You grow a sort of quiet tolerance for the understated narrative.
I am currently in the studio recording music for the film. Listening to a toy piano playing in 3/4 time. I havent even been watching the film for quite some time. Of course I am grateful that this music is in my film. The musicians are fucking blessed in that golden ray of light sort of way. But I would seriously like to have music like this to be playing whenever I enter a room. Kind of like a soundtrack, just for my personal life.
So now my film has this definite spirit. Not that it was lacking before by any means, but there is just something so charming about the world of closure of editing music to a completed film. I like it so much my stomach is turning. Sloshing. Two days of beer, coffee, and whatever else is growing inside of me. That whatever else is growing steadily. I have my suspicions that it is something like ivy. Not necessarily a weed, but something that grows relatively fast, much in the same nature that weeds do. But it is certainly not stealing any nourishment from me. It just gives the eyes of my insides the needed shade to protect themselves from all of the holy light that pierces my life.