Friday, April 28, 2006

Something like ivy.

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.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Gin and cigarettes.

Gin and cigarettes have been polluting my body for weeks. Nights run so late sometimes. Sleeping hasnt been the most efficient part of my life lately. If one cannot sleep one has to find other ways to fill those hours, n'est pas? Reading old pulp horror stories, writing, writing, writing, staying up ridiculously late with attractive new friends. Gin and cigarettes lends themselves well with all of the standard insomniatic activities. Or substitute Jameson for gin. Works pretty well. Rolls off the tongue. However, I always prefer a gin and tonic. I dare say that it is this lady's drink of choice.

There is a magic romance with gin and cigarettes. It cannot be denied. Sure intoxication has its own sort of magic, which we all (or most rather) know and love, but thats not what I'm talking about here. It is the distinct magic of gin and cigarettes. Something like star crossed lovers. Its actually divinely inarticulable. So I will stop. Stopping. Done.

So at this point this feels pretty conversational. So lets digress darling.

Heard any good jokes lately?

All I know is that it is easier to believe in the devil than it is to believe in god.

Fuck this shit.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Tallulah my darling.

I enjoy naming inanimate objects. My car is Tina, because she is a flirtatious blue. Tina is kind of a hussy; lots of people drive her because I dont like to drive. But she doesnt seem to mind. She has taken a beating this year, but she can handle it. She still purrs a bit when she starts. My computer is named Tallulah. Tallulah has been in repair for a week but she came back to me today and is nearly the same as I left her. I passionately love Tallulah. Life would be so complicated without her. She is a brilliant secretary and more. When I cant handle things, and my brain shuts down, she steps up. She is my muse as well. Like old beat poets and their typewriters. I cant, I cant, I cant write on anything but my baby. I trust her with my mistakes. If I were a man, and I mean a "man's man", I would like to marry a girl named Tallulah. And I would sing songs about her.

I guess I just love names. Naming things. Delores, my cat. Named after Delores Hayes. My favorite character ever written. Delores likes to be called Lola. Never Lolita, she just wont respond. But Lola sings to her soul. She also comes to Meow Meow.

A person's name is also a deciding factor in my attraction these days. Men with quaint names melt me. It has come to the point that if I do not like your name, I will not date you. And in that vein, if I do like your name, I'm likely to date you based on that. Although this method of dating has not exactly panned out well for me this year.

I like to hear my name too. I feel very much that I am a Kendra. To the point that I don't like or trust any other Kendras, being that I am about as Kendra as one can get. I also dont like derivatives of my name. Kindra, Kendall. Ishh. Sound it out, Kendra, go ahead. Keeeennnndddrrrrrraaa. Nice, huh? People who know me well call me Kenny, and I like it because that is what Juan Pedro used to call me back in the day when he was Zack Malone. It feels so endearing. I am bound to like you more if you call me Kenny. Also, people who love me sometimes call me Kendee. Or Kendee Baby. Its pretty saccharine, but I like it all the same.

On a side note, if you are keen on me, and we are at a movie, whisper "Hello Kendra" in my ear, I will likely take my clothes off later.