laying in the greenest grass
baby poppies surround me
the sun is setting
only two were pink
the rest, not a shy gradient of yellow
i took twenty deep breaths
tried to think of nothing.
not even a blank white room.
less than a room
less than a door to an empty white room
less than the color white
less than less
just nothing
nothing at all
not even the inside of my eyelids
and the red color that they make when i look towards a light
not even black
just nothing
i couldn't.
so much is on my mind
by breath twenty i squeezed my eyes as hard as i could
and let my lids free to wonder as they may
after such confusion. restriction.
all colors were brighter
all sensea were magnified
all reasons were present as to why i could not think of nothing
it's because i'm in a place with so much to grasp
so much to absorb
so much to remember
nothing is far from this place.
a day of petanque, frites at the riverside, classical music, nutella vs. jam and samuel clemens.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
SAINTES, FRANCE: Nothing takes precedence over the fresh baguette
the rate at which a foreign child speaks, is golden to a language learners ear.
spent the day on the western coast of france in La Rochelle. lighthouses and historic castles, patisseries and open parkways, ivy ridden archways and cyclists everywhere...at the atlantic shoreline, the uneven rocks that we sat on were not merely limestone. they had stories. they had battles won and lost, upon them. cigarette butts in between them. moss growing all over them. zillions of photographs taken of them. and shells washed up upon them daily. their lifeline is admired by many.
i have a beautiful idea of what tomorrow will bring. not places or things, but feelings. as long as i react to where i'm at, good things will come. it's when we stop reacting and just interact within a place...that habits surface and bore us into trouble.
that's today's thesis. haha.
BONsoir.
spent the day on the western coast of france in La Rochelle. lighthouses and historic castles, patisseries and open parkways, ivy ridden archways and cyclists everywhere...at the atlantic shoreline, the uneven rocks that we sat on were not merely limestone. they had stories. they had battles won and lost, upon them. cigarette butts in between them. moss growing all over them. zillions of photographs taken of them. and shells washed up upon them daily. their lifeline is admired by many.
i have a beautiful idea of what tomorrow will bring. not places or things, but feelings. as long as i react to where i'm at, good things will come. it's when we stop reacting and just interact within a place...that habits surface and bore us into trouble.
that's today's thesis. haha.
BONsoir.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
SAINTES, FRANCE: Mint tea, broken toes and a night of rotoscoping- gentle prose
Literally, too beautiful, are the moments that define my "now".
All strokes come to mind so that I am striken with indecision, as an artist. There is no "one" color that resides in that tree. There is no "one" note that these here birds sing. There is no "one" way to capture the fact that "no one" is around me.
one fifteen hour train ride and a glimpse-of-bordeaux later...i lay my head to rest in Saintes (l'ouest de France). the fresh market this morning, a long walk in the afternoon and a new social scene at night. we're making breaded oysters for dinner this evening, partenered with grape juice, many breads, brie, cheddar and salad avec le vinegre.
last night, we read mark twain outloud.we spend our waking hours outside or at a window. i am with two friends that i met in cannes.
writing has become my very own travel companion. for, with it, i am never alone...just irregularly lonely. for the past four seconds the clouds above my head ripped themselves from one another and let out the greatest cry i've heard from nature, in nearly ten months. it is not raining outside. just thunder. it rumbles from a distance, but france is only so big. i can hear everything. in this six story house, i am alone. not another person is near. i have my journal in my lap and hear the murmuring of another toungue upon the outer surface of the shudders that shelter me from the clouds that don't rain. my tea is now the perfect temperature. and in such contentment i ask myself, what is my purpose of being here? well, what is my purpose of being elsewhere? but to be who i am and see what i see, that is purpose enough for me, i guess. so i agree with myself and move on to other questions.
constant curiousity illuminates the greatest of adventurers. maybe it is silly to write and write and write what ought not be written. but i find joy in the construction of my own thoughts upon paper. writing cures, as does chalk, if you draw the right lines on the board.
and you read and you read and you read, and it makes you a better writer? maybe. what does improve ones abilities is practice, i feel. and AT LAST! my mumbling provides me with a well-utilized vocabulary. well enough to express the simplest ideas, atleast. it is because i speak so much...that i am able to choose my words carefully, when actually listened to. maybe not carefully, but inventively, none the less. or maybe i am just wordy. regardless, it is you, who has chosen to read this.
two doors just slammed. one to this room and one downstairs. the murmurs stopped. the birds found this an opportunity to elate themselves with song. my tea is gone now. my feet are cold. my hands lack the circulation that they once had, before i began this prose. one child speaks outside. seemingly, to no one. that child is not me. with another, he is now. they run and from one end of rue charles dengibeaud to another- they count and whisper sacred words to eachother. eight syllables was his last sentence. i cannot gather the content of his childish french, only the fact that he yelled it and upon the sixth syllable...a bird began to call to him softly. he ignored its attention and ran towards the river. gone now. now, it's just me again. and two closed doors. but in all reality, i feel doors no longer exist. what exists is the chair i sit on now and the tea that i drink. beyond that i have yet to discover.
now a motorcycle is outside. i may or may not go look out the window to see who it is. oh, it is the boys parents. he went with them, from what i hear. undefined, their faces are to me.
in the distance, two tones of an ambulance exchange turns. i am free to do what i want to right now. i believe i will go work on a project i am in the process of realizing. back to the drawing boards...
and no worries, upon each entry, i guarantee...my style will change. todays was a bit stream of consciousness...whereas tomorrow might be a haiku. who knows. i don't think anyone does. and now that you're expecting it...tomorrow will most definitely not be a haiku. got to keep you on your toes. the few of you that are up on them.
All strokes come to mind so that I am striken with indecision, as an artist. There is no "one" color that resides in that tree. There is no "one" note that these here birds sing. There is no "one" way to capture the fact that "no one" is around me.
one fifteen hour train ride and a glimpse-of-bordeaux later...i lay my head to rest in Saintes (l'ouest de France). the fresh market this morning, a long walk in the afternoon and a new social scene at night. we're making breaded oysters for dinner this evening, partenered with grape juice, many breads, brie, cheddar and salad avec le vinegre.
last night, we read mark twain outloud.we spend our waking hours outside or at a window. i am with two friends that i met in cannes.
writing has become my very own travel companion. for, with it, i am never alone...just irregularly lonely. for the past four seconds the clouds above my head ripped themselves from one another and let out the greatest cry i've heard from nature, in nearly ten months. it is not raining outside. just thunder. it rumbles from a distance, but france is only so big. i can hear everything. in this six story house, i am alone. not another person is near. i have my journal in my lap and hear the murmuring of another toungue upon the outer surface of the shudders that shelter me from the clouds that don't rain. my tea is now the perfect temperature. and in such contentment i ask myself, what is my purpose of being here? well, what is my purpose of being elsewhere? but to be who i am and see what i see, that is purpose enough for me, i guess. so i agree with myself and move on to other questions.
constant curiousity illuminates the greatest of adventurers. maybe it is silly to write and write and write what ought not be written. but i find joy in the construction of my own thoughts upon paper. writing cures, as does chalk, if you draw the right lines on the board.
and you read and you read and you read, and it makes you a better writer? maybe. what does improve ones abilities is practice, i feel. and AT LAST! my mumbling provides me with a well-utilized vocabulary. well enough to express the simplest ideas, atleast. it is because i speak so much...that i am able to choose my words carefully, when actually listened to. maybe not carefully, but inventively, none the less. or maybe i am just wordy. regardless, it is you, who has chosen to read this.
two doors just slammed. one to this room and one downstairs. the murmurs stopped. the birds found this an opportunity to elate themselves with song. my tea is gone now. my feet are cold. my hands lack the circulation that they once had, before i began this prose. one child speaks outside. seemingly, to no one. that child is not me. with another, he is now. they run and from one end of rue charles dengibeaud to another- they count and whisper sacred words to eachother. eight syllables was his last sentence. i cannot gather the content of his childish french, only the fact that he yelled it and upon the sixth syllable...a bird began to call to him softly. he ignored its attention and ran towards the river. gone now. now, it's just me again. and two closed doors. but in all reality, i feel doors no longer exist. what exists is the chair i sit on now and the tea that i drink. beyond that i have yet to discover.
now a motorcycle is outside. i may or may not go look out the window to see who it is. oh, it is the boys parents. he went with them, from what i hear. undefined, their faces are to me.
in the distance, two tones of an ambulance exchange turns. i am free to do what i want to right now. i believe i will go work on a project i am in the process of realizing. back to the drawing boards...
and no worries, upon each entry, i guarantee...my style will change. todays was a bit stream of consciousness...whereas tomorrow might be a haiku. who knows. i don't think anyone does. and now that you're expecting it...tomorrow will most definitely not be a haiku. got to keep you on your toes. the few of you that are up on them.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
CANNES, FRANCE: can't capture it
i find beauty in the words...that people say...without thought. but in mind of intelligence. the words that publish themselves without permission. the thoughts that are so personal, they're public. i am a fan of sharing such words with you.
today, does not beat other days. today was of good nature, though. i much enjoy the routine i have created here. it is one of spontenaiety, new relationships, life lessons, baguettes and paninis.
i want to photograph everything. i want to film everyone. i want to write down everything i hear and i want to capture all i can. it's true. but i can't. for the past week, my sensory glands have been working overtime. so much to absorb, so much to take in. it's easy to get here and drown. that's for sure. good thing my mom made me take swimming lessons when i was young.
i spent a good part of today asleep. aaand a good part of last night awake. until the early hours of the morning, i was wide up working on a few films with friends. we had a good time, it was just exhausting to say the least. i now, have worked with a wide variety of people. all seemingly a bit older, but that is why i have loved it so much. our screening is tomorrow night at the villa montfleury, a hotel across the village. should be a good time.
odd note:
the fishermen here astound me. they get their midday scoop of gelato, roll up their ten-euro-trousers and jump from boat to boat entertaining no one but themselves and the marine life. pethanque is so popular with the older men. as is assuming that none of the american-looking girls speak french and then saying weird things to us. i guess i sometimes look american. and they say funny stuff. and then i retort in french. and they become flustered and confused. it's awesome.
when passing the breakdancers on the streets, i love how they look crazy-tough...and then you toss them a coin and they say "ohhh, merci mademoiselle. bonjournée!" with a voice equivalent to that of a small bird, delicate and sincere. funny boys.
i love how the cast and directors are all here to screen their films for us. today i went to the main theatre at the Palais for "la mujer son cabeza." it premiered in spanish with french and english subtitles. one of my friends gave me a ticket to this red-carpet event. it was exciting for me. though, i went alone.
when i found myself at the top of those red steps, i realized i had a lot of unanswered questions. none of my inquiries related to the film i was about to experience or the people that shuffled around me and defined the chaos that cornered me up there. it was just a blur, really. all of it.
alone, on the french riviera, tickets in hand and hopes in the sky...i curtsied to the usher and made my way through the mess of awe-struck wonderers...right to my seat. middle row à la balcon...dans le centre.
the film was "interesting," i'll give it that. i'm just not much of a critic. i'm rather, a creator.
donc, je sais c'est plus tard. je devrais dors maintenant, et je devrais practiquer mon francais tous les temps. tonight i went to a beach party and walked past eliza dushku from Bring it On. afterwards we got gelato and happened to brush by mike tyson. ridiculous. je sais.
tomorrow i hope to see a few films, swim a few laps and meet a few people. you know people swim laps in the OCEAN here?! it's insane to me. they go back and forth...parallel to the shoreline. incredible, really.
and oh, i figured out what i want to do with my life. i forgot to mention that. kind of relieved i finally know. it's been like, what? 19 years i've been taking a stab at it? well, i know now. and i couldn't be more thrilled.
today, does not beat other days. today was of good nature, though. i much enjoy the routine i have created here. it is one of spontenaiety, new relationships, life lessons, baguettes and paninis.
i want to photograph everything. i want to film everyone. i want to write down everything i hear and i want to capture all i can. it's true. but i can't. for the past week, my sensory glands have been working overtime. so much to absorb, so much to take in. it's easy to get here and drown. that's for sure. good thing my mom made me take swimming lessons when i was young.
i spent a good part of today asleep. aaand a good part of last night awake. until the early hours of the morning, i was wide up working on a few films with friends. we had a good time, it was just exhausting to say the least. i now, have worked with a wide variety of people. all seemingly a bit older, but that is why i have loved it so much. our screening is tomorrow night at the villa montfleury, a hotel across the village. should be a good time.
odd note:
the fishermen here astound me. they get their midday scoop of gelato, roll up their ten-euro-trousers and jump from boat to boat entertaining no one but themselves and the marine life. pethanque is so popular with the older men. as is assuming that none of the american-looking girls speak french and then saying weird things to us. i guess i sometimes look american. and they say funny stuff. and then i retort in french. and they become flustered and confused. it's awesome.
when passing the breakdancers on the streets, i love how they look crazy-tough...and then you toss them a coin and they say "ohhh, merci mademoiselle. bonjournée!" with a voice equivalent to that of a small bird, delicate and sincere. funny boys.
i love how the cast and directors are all here to screen their films for us. today i went to the main theatre at the Palais for "la mujer son cabeza." it premiered in spanish with french and english subtitles. one of my friends gave me a ticket to this red-carpet event. it was exciting for me. though, i went alone.
when i found myself at the top of those red steps, i realized i had a lot of unanswered questions. none of my inquiries related to the film i was about to experience or the people that shuffled around me and defined the chaos that cornered me up there. it was just a blur, really. all of it.
alone, on the french riviera, tickets in hand and hopes in the sky...i curtsied to the usher and made my way through the mess of awe-struck wonderers...right to my seat. middle row à la balcon...dans le centre.
the film was "interesting," i'll give it that. i'm just not much of a critic. i'm rather, a creator.
donc, je sais c'est plus tard. je devrais dors maintenant, et je devrais practiquer mon francais tous les temps. tonight i went to a beach party and walked past eliza dushku from Bring it On. afterwards we got gelato and happened to brush by mike tyson. ridiculous. je sais.
tomorrow i hope to see a few films, swim a few laps and meet a few people. you know people swim laps in the OCEAN here?! it's insane to me. they go back and forth...parallel to the shoreline. incredible, really.
and oh, i figured out what i want to do with my life. i forgot to mention that. kind of relieved i finally know. it's been like, what? 19 years i've been taking a stab at it? well, i know now. and i couldn't be more thrilled.
Monday, May 19, 2008
CANNES, FRANCE: WILD times in Cannes
sand and sun. i find it around me, all the time.
the other day i saw 3 films in one day. lovely, it was. two were eh. one was wonderful. tokyo sonata: wonderful. much recommended, if it ever reaches the states. directed by: Kiyoshi Kurosawa. The whole cast was there, it was magical. music composition: Bam!
it was that good.
yesterday, i worked all day. it was my favorite day thus far. the parisian filmmakers that i worked with were very kind. david (deey-vied) and antoine (aan-twan)... we ran around getting 'b-roll' shots for the AMC reel and ran into sean penn, jean claude van dam, tim robbins and pauly shore. it was successful, nonetheless. i also bumped into mischa barton and the tiny animal she carts around. some might call it a dog. she apologized to me because her oversized, floral-print, marc by marc jacobs hangbag brushed the purse on my shoulder. i just smiled. i secretly wanted to say, "thank you for your work." but what sense would that make? none. none at all. i should thank josh schwartzman. actually, i did that once. when he lectured at sc. i raised my hand and said thank you.
good. i feel better about that now.
anyway, last night peter, danny and i made gnocci pasta and had kazoo for dinner. we roamed around the village and went to 'cinema de la plage'...where they screened looney tunes on the beach at night. it was unreal. then we were in an elevator in the carlton hotel, where all the directors stay, and ran into Ophélie Winter, a famous french singer. kind of neat. what beautiful clothing these people wear, from day to day.
then, as we walked back along the croisette, heading towards 'midnight blues' a place for live jazz and r&b at night...i ran into a friend from new york. that was weird. the third one that i've seen here at cannes. all on accident. he was working for a company that was in charge of the guest list of the party that everyone wanted to get into. i saw him from across the way, and what a sensational flashback. i love those moments in life. when you're somewhere, for no reason. and you fall in the hands of another, for some reason. then you speak and it's just like it used to be. two years ago. in a different random place in the world, during a different random time in your life. it's worth writing about, regardless of when i next see him. just a remarkable re-introduction to a lost friend. i do believe in chance. happenstance. and the prospect of luck, in life.
then, at the point... as my legs were about to fall off and i was to give up...we crammed ourselves onto the bus back to the hotel and with every attempt i made to squeeze through the 80 persons that wanted to get on a 50 person bus...i somehow made it on and rode home. close to strangers. french and the like. christopher from normandy was nice. and i love listening to the people from the UK.
after that, we shot a scene from a film we're working on back at cannes la bocca. le titre est "fin". je parle en francais pour cette film. c'est drôle. mais, amusant.
now, i will go back to work. music music music. finding music for the Mike Tyson documentary promotional footage. then off to the villa where i will work on a few other shorts that my friends are creating this week...et à la fin du jour ... j'espere voir une autre film...peut-être vicky christiana barcelona ou indiana jones IV...jenesaispas.
je ne pense pas que des personnes ont lit mon blog, et j'aime cet idée. donc, maintenant je devrais retourner `a mon travaille. c'est important.
bonjournée...
~shannon (shaa-nohn)
the other day i saw 3 films in one day. lovely, it was. two were eh. one was wonderful. tokyo sonata: wonderful. much recommended, if it ever reaches the states. directed by: Kiyoshi Kurosawa. The whole cast was there, it was magical. music composition: Bam!
it was that good.
yesterday, i worked all day. it was my favorite day thus far. the parisian filmmakers that i worked with were very kind. david (deey-vied) and antoine (aan-twan)... we ran around getting 'b-roll' shots for the AMC reel and ran into sean penn, jean claude van dam, tim robbins and pauly shore. it was successful, nonetheless. i also bumped into mischa barton and the tiny animal she carts around. some might call it a dog. she apologized to me because her oversized, floral-print, marc by marc jacobs hangbag brushed the purse on my shoulder. i just smiled. i secretly wanted to say, "thank you for your work." but what sense would that make? none. none at all. i should thank josh schwartzman. actually, i did that once. when he lectured at sc. i raised my hand and said thank you.
good. i feel better about that now.
anyway, last night peter, danny and i made gnocci pasta and had kazoo for dinner. we roamed around the village and went to 'cinema de la plage'...where they screened looney tunes on the beach at night. it was unreal. then we were in an elevator in the carlton hotel, where all the directors stay, and ran into Ophélie Winter, a famous french singer. kind of neat. what beautiful clothing these people wear, from day to day.
then, as we walked back along the croisette, heading towards 'midnight blues' a place for live jazz and r&b at night...i ran into a friend from new york. that was weird. the third one that i've seen here at cannes. all on accident. he was working for a company that was in charge of the guest list of the party that everyone wanted to get into. i saw him from across the way, and what a sensational flashback. i love those moments in life. when you're somewhere, for no reason. and you fall in the hands of another, for some reason. then you speak and it's just like it used to be. two years ago. in a different random place in the world, during a different random time in your life. it's worth writing about, regardless of when i next see him. just a remarkable re-introduction to a lost friend. i do believe in chance. happenstance. and the prospect of luck, in life.
then, at the point... as my legs were about to fall off and i was to give up...we crammed ourselves onto the bus back to the hotel and with every attempt i made to squeeze through the 80 persons that wanted to get on a 50 person bus...i somehow made it on and rode home. close to strangers. french and the like. christopher from normandy was nice. and i love listening to the people from the UK.
after that, we shot a scene from a film we're working on back at cannes la bocca. le titre est "fin". je parle en francais pour cette film. c'est drôle. mais, amusant.
now, i will go back to work. music music music. finding music for the Mike Tyson documentary promotional footage. then off to the villa where i will work on a few other shorts that my friends are creating this week...et à la fin du jour ... j'espere voir une autre film...peut-être vicky christiana barcelona ou indiana jones IV...jenesaispas.
je ne pense pas que des personnes ont lit mon blog, et j'aime cet idée. donc, maintenant je devrais retourner `a mon travaille. c'est important.
bonjournée...
~shannon (shaa-nohn)
Friday, May 16, 2008
CANNES, FRANCE: Eh, Voila! Mon Travaille...
if you go to www.amctv.com
see the featured video of angelina jolie and jack black
yeah. i chose the music.
whhhhhaaaaaa?!!? .... je sais, je sais. c'est bizarre.
see the featured video of angelina jolie and jack black
yeah. i chose the music.
whhhhhaaaaaa?!!? .... je sais, je sais. c'est bizarre.
CANNES, FRANCE: la la la la la
i'm on the second floor of a villa on the south coast of france, reading the script of a friend that's shooting a movie this weekend. today i had "work." Tis intersting. I run around the festival grabbing Electronic Press Kit's of films that are premiering here. Kung Fu Panda, Changeling, Vikki Christiana Barcelona, Tokyo to name a few...then I go to their shoots and help the editors find the right music for their "bites" that they "wire" to the states by way of a Paris-London-Staten Island-Manhattan transport...then the stuff goes live on-air by 8pm Eastern Time. I like learning about these things, but it is very time consuming. Last night was fascinating. We went to the screening of "Tokyo" at the Palais on the Croisette...and before the show, the music composers, the directors and a few actors came on stage and spoke. In french, of course. Highlight: Michel Gondry, Boon Jong Ho, Leos Carax...they were there. It was neat. Today the company I work for, AMC TV, interviewed Morgan Spurlock. As well as Angelina Jolie, Jack Black and Dustin Hoffman.
Everyday, I drink orangina. I notice the smaller streets, skinnier doorways, fashionable people, expensive paninis, productive producers, odd streets signs, exquisite yacht parties, and sweet old french men that only speak french and tell me their life stories once they realize that I speak a little. It's wonderful. I'll update more later, but I must rest now. I have a 10am call and tomorrow's a big day. Woody Allens film premieres and we're supposed to interview Mike Tyoson this weekend...as his film premieres on Sunday.
I like waking up in France, but my confusion only begins at this point. I don't know what I want out of this "industry," I just know that it's good to be here. The people, the coastline and the culture all keep me wanting to go go go...I'm just confused when they all ask, "So, why are you here?" I often say, "I'm learning."
That's all I got.
Everyday, I drink orangina. I notice the smaller streets, skinnier doorways, fashionable people, expensive paninis, productive producers, odd streets signs, exquisite yacht parties, and sweet old french men that only speak french and tell me their life stories once they realize that I speak a little. It's wonderful. I'll update more later, but I must rest now. I have a 10am call and tomorrow's a big day. Woody Allens film premieres and we're supposed to interview Mike Tyoson this weekend...as his film premieres on Sunday.
I like waking up in France, but my confusion only begins at this point. I don't know what I want out of this "industry," I just know that it's good to be here. The people, the coastline and the culture all keep me wanting to go go go...I'm just confused when they all ask, "So, why are you here?" I often say, "I'm learning."
That's all I got.
Monday, May 12, 2008
LONDON, ENGLAND: "There's no reason for me to be here"
...but i am.
hello, from london. what is my purpose? to listen to the strange voices that surround me and document my reaction to these crazies. it has been a quiet day. within me. but overall, incredibly telling. my flight. must catch.
it's been delayed, but they just called.
this airport is genuinely beautiful. heathrow everyone, fly to heathrow.
everyone, that is, that listens.
welcome to my first time abroad. a good beginning, i believe.
the land here is no different, just the movers.
hello, from london. what is my purpose? to listen to the strange voices that surround me and document my reaction to these crazies. it has been a quiet day. within me. but overall, incredibly telling. my flight. must catch.
it's been delayed, but they just called.
this airport is genuinely beautiful. heathrow everyone, fly to heathrow.
everyone, that is, that listens.
welcome to my first time abroad. a good beginning, i believe.
the land here is no different, just the movers.
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