Yes!! It’s Leap Day!! Yay!!!
And even though “bissextile” is a super happy-looking word because it immediately makes us think of bisexuals and how wonderfully exciting & full of possibilities they are — it really only refers to the Leap Year. (Which, of course, is also wonderfully exciting and full of possibilities, but only in that meager way where non-sexually-related things can ever seem “wonderfully exciting” or “full of possibilities.”)
Well, if I may be serious for just 4 seconds… It’s official. I went from pre-crisis to post-crisis without having an actual crisis, even though it took about 24 solid hours of exhausting brain work to manage it. I awoke at around 3am this morning and realized that the anxiety had passed without ever really taking root and that I was actually feeling happy and in a good place. That feeling that I needed to have a vice grip on my thoughts was over and my thoughts were just in a really clear space.
And what was even better, when I was down in the kitchen feeding the cats, etc., I had a sort of breakthrough thought — the distinct feeling that it wasn’t going to happen again, that something in my brain had finally really shifted. For real. It was a very pronounced feeling. I’ve come through these episodes feeling stronger each time that it’s happened over the last 5 months or so, but this time, I don’t know — it just felt like it was really over. (Meaning that this emotional trigger I have is done, played out, over.)
I still have some work to do on, I don’t know what to call it — “who I am”. But I just feel totally different today.
And then I switched to my Easter dishes! Already! (At this rate, I’ll be using my Christmas dishes again by the 4th of July!) I doubt I’m actually going to keep using them all the way up until Easter, I just wanted something really sunny and yellow at the breakfast table this morning (it was still pitch dark outside). So I decided to go ahead and use them.
But what I also detected –lurking deep inside myself somewhere — was a desire to perhaps maybe — yes — buy some more dishes!! I really want something cheerful and I don’t want to be using my Easter dishes for like, 6 weeks before Easter.
Of course, I could perhaps peruse the 17,000 dishes I already own and maybe discover a set of cheerful dishes I’d totally forgotten I had. God knows that’s happened before! But we’ll see. Something new might be just really wonderful.
Well, the script work with Peitor was very good yesterday, but also very much like that neurosurgery thing. Where each word, every shot, was under a microscope. We worked for a few hours and we were still on the same page that we’d started on at the beginning of the session. However, we brought our main character in through the door and across the room and standing where he needs to be standing when he finally says his first line of (killer) dialogue.
But at that point, we came to a little impasse because Peitor was seeing that specific shot (with the line of dialogue) differently than I was, so we had to just totally stop and really think about it.
ME: “We need to keep this completely seamless here or we’ll lose the erotic energy of that line.”
HIM: “No. We need to break out of that POV, just for a moment, create a breath, a space, and then come right back. Something Luis Bunuel.”
ME (thinking this, not saying it because saying it would have only been indescribably petulant at that moment): “Should we just slice the guy’s eye? That’ll create some emotional space.” (Un Chien Andalou, 1929)
But, yes! — you can be proud of me; I did not say that. It would have gone nowhere fast. Instead, I said something like, “I don’t agree with what you want to do here but if you feel that strongly about it, let’s just explore that direction.” (I was really mature for a wee bonny lass of 12.)
And so then we explored it, and we made a little progress but ultimately we left it right at that line of dialogue yesterday and will resume on Tuesday. (But I did text him at about 6:03am this morning, my time zone, to urgently point out: “We forgot to have him take off that white trench coat!”)
It seems pretty clear, though, that the destiny of Abstract Absurdity Productions is that great & lofty art museums all over the world will one day include our work in their future exhibitions of Little Known Cinematic Masterpieces of the Early 21st Century Short-Subject Film Movement. Because, man, this stuff we’re doing is just fucking insane. And it is taking forever.
All righty. Well. Today will be about yoga, washing my hair, and just feeling happy. Sort of maybe even triumphant — I’m actually getting to that place where I can believe that I’m not only allowed to be alive, but that I can also have more than just the tiniest existence. I can feel that I’m still taking these mental baby steps. Still, it’s all right. I think the idea that I wanted to buy more dishes today was sort of a breakthrough, too. You know, like: I don’t give a fuck that I already have a million dishes; the reality is that I want more. So we’ll see.
And then I’ll also probably write something!
So, have a great Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I hope you have that breakthrough you need– if, indeed, you are seeking one! Thanks for visiting, gang. I’m still in that awkward listening-space of “Babe, You Turn Me On” at night and “Take Five” in the morning (!!), so you can either scroll over to yesterday’s post and/or the post from the day before and listen to those amazing songs again. Or, I could leave you with this.
When I was about 4 years old, I had the soundtrack to this — the Broadway cast of the musical, Peter Pan. And I loved this lullaby, “Distant Melody”. It made me think of my “real” mother — my birth mom. I was always trying to remember who she was, even all the way back then.
This song used to make me believe that I could somehow remember what she felt like — to be held by her. Even though I was told that I was created by accident — born by accident — I knew, even in my tiny little bones, that my real mother loved me and wanted me back. (And I was right.) All righty. I love you guys. See ya!
Peter? Do you know a lullaby to sing to our children?
I think so.
Sometimes, late at night I seem to remember…
Once upon a time and long ago,
I heard someone singing soft and low.
Now when day is done and night is near,
I recall a song I used to hear.
My child, my very own,
Don’t be afraid you’re not alone.
Sleep until the dawn for all is well.
Long ago this song was sung to me.
Now it’s just a distant melody.
Somewhere from the past I used to know,
Once upon a time and long ago.
c – 1954 Leigh/Comden/Green