Monday, April 9, 2007

Inability.

i can see perfectly what i want to write... but that's the problem. i see it.

i see predestined heartbreak from a much higher source. it's his time to leave soon, but he doesn't know how. he has blue eyes. she has green. the girl wears dark colors, not as sign of depression, but as a sign of earthliness, thoughtfulness... for the reader, not for herself. her colors are subconscious. i see guitars, lattes, a blue crayon, a single bedroom apartment, an unlit pipe, shaggy brown hair and and overgrown beard. i see fading hope, but passion. i see maroon walls. a lover in the corner of the crowded room, smiling at this shaggy, overgrown musician. smiling cause she knows the song he's playing is for her. She's sipping on her favorite drink. cafe latte. simple, but that's the way she likes her things, simple. she's writing in her notebook that she carries everywhere with a blue crayon.. cause that's all she could find on her way out of work. (she's an elementary school teacher... first year.)

they're walking home, hand in hand... a loft apartment downtown. they have to climb up a narrow flight of stairs to their place. they don't talk much at all on the way home. not because of nothing to say or anger or awkward situation... but because there is comfort in their silence. They take in everything. They soak up every bit of goodness that they can, because life is hard. a cool night like this can get them through five bitter ones.

i see all of this in picture, but not in structure. absurdly frustrating.

i can write all of this, but i can't seem to put together everything i want you to see.. i see this... i dunno perfect picture. i see this happen, and as it plays in my head on my own little personal projection screen I'm frantically trying to write it down before the next scene.

i think that's my problem. i want people to see movies in what i write, and vice-versa if I'm to act something out. i feel like if i act something, I want them to see the work and thought and detail behind it.

i suppose this as a post will be more productive than what i would try to write. I'm aware that it is difficult to follow and doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe you can see where my mind is going with this.

hopefully this did someone in the world some good.

1 think:

Lucy Doughty said...

those are the best silences, the comforting ones - it paints a beautiful picture. i am happy i read it before the start of my own bitter day.