Water

Hard labor toward Three Days of Moonyman this past weekend; three days devoted, she reigns.

I collapsed last Friday. I woke Saturday—this prayer to be put to death and raised again. It doesn't help my limbs have taken life of their own. First an eye twitch, then a corner of my mouth, then a spot next to my nose, my fingers, my knees, my tongue... I thought my eye was only begging tears. I see now that there is anxiety beyond my control, that I can feel my nerves shift when I sleep. So what happens when the subconscious is hiding from itself? That I can't even intuitively sense this stress?

I think that is what scares me. That my body is reacting to something I am not receptive to.

A Field

My apologies for the week of silence; too many things have changed for me to make comment.

Currently I am away to help plan the set for Three Days of Moonyman; I am "the artist" and will be drawing lines in a field for this film. It is exciting to remember the film when it had just budded, the faint idea of a wide angle lens witnessing a boy in the middle of nowhere. 

Instead of leaning on tea and coffee in the late afternoons, I have more than enough energy to stay up well past sundown. There is no question I have needed a break. So many looming deadlines, like any human being, and it is hard to remember my brain cannot be "on" all the time.

I stood, dust to dust, in a field all afternoon. I remembered about snakes and tried to find clouds in the sky. There is no place like home, there is no love like this... So here I am, daydreaming and making dinners and burning all my car's fuel to support someone else's dream.