Diary Entry 2008-07-29 21:24:00

Ok, verbs.

I want verbs to be genius, not just a pretty decent student film, but amazing, spell bounding. A musical, it is split up into three parts, the beginning, which is a romance-love sickness thing, with a touch of fantasies and a macabre feel, the middle, which is a flamboyant social observation showing Jack's family, and what led up to him running away (but ultimately not why), and the end section, also flamboyant, but now over the top, yet underacted violence, full of fantasies, and people killing people.

That's about it, the plot is irrelevant

Diary Entry 2008-07-20 16:44:00

Ok, it has been a while since I have- no it has been ages since I have put anything on here, and I like to view that as a good thing, because going back on it is revealing to see what I was thinking last time. I will tell all what has happened since then. Not all, me. The Roseanna thing ended like a bitch, ha, like a bitch, I'm such a cunt. Anyhoo it did, and I think after a long while of thinking and just a long while I have come to the conclusion that she is right in many ways, particularly in that she is not ready for a boyfriend. I sound angry because I am, she deserves it. Anyhoo, today Dad, William and I went to the Da Vinci inventions thing at the museum, at it was really interesting apart from being a tad small. However after that we looked at the old Christchurch stuff, which I have seen before but it gave me an idea for my movie, Verbs, with an old dolls house. I was thinking maybe after Jack is pulled inside by Aya in their first meeting they could see a dolls house, Isabel being fascinated by it, Aya not caring and Jack pretending to be to get along with Isabel. It would be a good character study, because up until now the viewer doesn't see much of what Isabel and Jack are really like. And you could see how they all relate to each other. It will be an exiting project. Then I had a crepe. That was disjointed. After the museum we went to the arts centre market where mum had been looking round, and I bought a crepe from a french guy who used his eyebrows too much. Siobhan says she is lonely. She is a nice person, Siobhan, I can't think of many people like her.

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That appears overwhelmingly petty now, but it didn't then. What would I write in a diary now? (I don't keep one any more) Do I have anything I care about all that much now? Nothing that comes to mind.

I think I am, emotionally, more adult than child or (fuck that shit) adolescent. More stable. I'm not saying i was the most deranged emotional manic before, but I'm more placid now.
And I'm not in love.

And I'm all alone like an old flappy lesbian. But, yeah. My mind is like a flat plane with a clean white fog. There is nice tufty cartoon grass globs here and there and I can only see a few metres. And to streach the metaphor similie, Winnie the pooh is standing all hazy beside me and he's got some rabbits in his pouch and a gun over his shoulder and we're going to a creek.

And look at the difference in my writing. It's like I'm boring now.

I am still just as enraptured in my own fantasy, and I sure haven't shrunk in bravado ambition. And thats all I need...?

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