ROOMS WITHOUT DOORS

7/8/11

2011-07-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

i will
slide your shoes

one
/
/drop

two
/
/drop

and trace the map
the tired creases
of your instep
and
with a
slack hand
unclasp
musky
kindling
to
un/tether
the distant hidden threads
where
violent
arcs
rest

/or

2011-05-26T04:08:00.000-07:00

/or
in the cradle of your
turned tongue
wavering warm cave
ice melts
cr/acked
by teeth
to teet
and unsung
sputters
purls
liquid lines of light
to the
overturn/d
soft
cup

SPITTING NONSENSE

2010-11-24T20:54:00.000-08:00

i love, love, love, love, love this song.

i finally broke down and bought a canon 7D about a month ago (along with a 60mm f2.8 macro, a lensbaby composer, and a minolta ring adapter). it's the first video camera i've had in probably over 5 years. i missed being able to explore ideas on a whim without having to call around and drive across town to borrow a camera i knew nothing about.

on one of the last shows i worked on, i got a chance to do some 'additional photography' where i basically dumped some milk, dry ice, and oil into a bowl water. since i was on such a short time frame then, i didn't really get a chance to dig into the idea... until a couple weeks ago.

while i knew the fluids wouldn't sustain the whole video, some crazy new imagery from SDO (solar dynamics observatory) started to give me some vague ideas. so, over about a week, i downloaded over 2,000 clips of soar data and sorted them into a couple hundred selections and select selections, etc. beyond that, i rummaged thru another couple hundred featured videos on the SDO, TRACE, and STEREO sites. even after going thru all of that footage (which took about three days), i'm still in awe of how complex, powerful, and elegant the sun truly is.

anyway, i know all of this is definitely not a novel concept (i probably steal way too much from sci-fi movies), but ive always loved the idea of juxtaposing the very big and the very small (coronal mass ejections vs heavy whipping cream in a clear glass bowl of water).

the only thing i had to do at this point was decide what the hell i was going to set all of this to. it took a couple days to decide, but i finally came to this song, the drunkk machine by thom yorke. i think i always knew i was going to use this song, but i guess i wanted to be absolutely sure.

since i wanted a sort of linear progression, where we start outside the star then slowly (in a way) make our way into the star, i knew i wanted something like this song with its sort of unhinged bridge and frantic second half. so why look for something like this song when this is more than perfect? also, i wanted something which would either complement or counterpoint some of the satellite glitches... which i had to include (much to SDO's pleasure... undoubtedly...).

not sure what i'm going to do next, but i've always wanted to make spaceships!

SDO sdo.gsfc.nasa.gov/
TRACE trace.lmsal.com/
STEREO stereo.gsfc.nasa.gov/

thom yorke theeraser.net

free write ix

2010-08-11T00:09:00.000-07:00

did you think;;; that i would ripen for you, come to bear, in you wrist,,, any less? did you think i would ripen like beads of sweat on your rocking rocking chest any more? did you think, did you dream, that i would poison myself any less on russian tongues, on nordic hips, on persian necks?///i will slide/inconsequential/ sequential/from the bed, from a mouth slack/with alcohol. there are only so many drinks i can chase at night. there are only so many streets i can tread. there are only s many eyes at sun-up/sun-down, closing the sun like a lost, like a lost child. alone in the wood,,,, finding the glen to rise at dusk. rise like hands. rise like hands flat against the sky. with me. with us. we move. like tides. like afternoon spectres. we take tea, we make coffee, we drain the trees of nectar. we are the neon blood, we are the tumbling towers. we are the undone buttons. unfastening one by one, prone, across a summer bed. and with each loop unhooked another line, another thread of sweat to the slope, to the crest of your back, to your basin where i wash. but, it all melts. i collapse, i am uncluttered i am broken mirrors and i am unfamiliar as fogged glass. write your name on my pane. blow your breath across me and a snake that finger, mark me like ghosts, mark me like spiral arm of spiral galaxies, as permanent as, as ephemeral as///but not not too close/dont undo this flesh/dont retouch this trembling lip, i will find i will find an open mouth/respirate/ hesitate/tesselate/// there ages there are pages there are books and crooks and hooks and nooks. there are moments un marked. minutes unmeasured, there are distances i have not moved. there are songs unsung and there are fires unkindled. but there are no eyes unopen there are no breaths untaken and no nails undug when i find you, when i find you// one leg over the other//one wrist under another/one palm up, one palm down;;; but i stop this i stop now i let it run off the rails let the film slip from the gate let the piano roll down the stairs. but from the ground/from the earth/ the lights will rise marking lines across the sky from here to nowhere.,,when i find myself alone//unsurrounded/// these thoughts will not collect they just unravel, untwine with no wax to wrap them back they simply split/so/so.so i will do my best two twist them back together thru thumb and forefinger, like beetles,like insects finding the summer stagnant nights, their wings unburdened by forgiving breezes, i will twist these fingers and i will twist this thread and take it/place it in my mouth and lock them together with this paltry spittle until/until i can find.this voice that calls only in caves, that calls me to the mouths if mountains, that finds me barefoot in the morning, with sunrise grass, blades rigid with sleep and fog,blades that would take my blood/that i would gladly offer should either ask or give.

///FIRST FEATURE 7.13.10

2010-07-14T02:14:00.001-07:00

i found my way to the end of the script today. barely shy of 60 pages. even though i know this will dramatically expand on screen (judging from previous projects) i can't help but feel uneasy about this. why couldnt it be more like 70?

fucking numbers.

but i know that's going to change anyway.

i just needed to get from point A (that i love) to point B (that i now love)... everything in between is bound to breathe. i already know a couple spots i need to do more work.

one thing i am proud of... it seems like the main character has completely changed from the opening to the ending.

it's tough to try and look back at the whole thing as you work in increments, you can only see as far as a couple scenes back. you forget every other turn. other beats. all that stuff back over the horizon.

editing time. time for the REAL writing to begin.

free write viii

2010-07-14T02:11:00.000-07:00

and///you are the knife, digging into me, you are the knife pulling into me, dragging me across the sky. and we cry together in the purpuling clouds, tears of diamond. diamond gold diamond blue tears, pooling in our hands and you offer me a drink, you pull it from behind, from the floor and you offer it to me with both hands, both cans cupped together and you tilt the trembling liquid toward me, and it spills off of your finger tips and washes over my chin, washes over my face. i am. you are. you are my communion. and when the skies have turned, when it all fades to black, where will your eyes go? where will they find us and our treasure troves? will there be maps? will there be winds at sea to blow them here or there, to or fro? wher, where where does the last breath of the sea run down the throat of nowhere? where will we find our cast and broken ship? which shore will we call our own? will these limbs be broken and dashed? where o where o where will it go. you are the knife. digging into me, carrying me across the skie. i am your kite tied with twine to my fingers, pulling you across the flats. but here but here but here i find the serpentines. but here, but here i find the roots, the trees growing through me. when i trip and fall and knock my head, all i see is red and the only stupid thing that spills from my sill mouth, is garbled and coded. it comes out in numbers. colored numbers and rays of digital mess. its a mess, a mess a mess all this blood an offal spilling from my side. but i dont believe it, i cant see it, so i find it with my fingers, i find the open knife. i find the open trap, i find you in my side, and i split us with my fingers and when i do, when i unopen us, when we unclose, there are notes that sound with soft distortion, a trembling ember of reverberations. moving hairs moving the tiny hairs on the small of your back, the tiny hairs, the tiny hairs. and i can feel the lashes like tiny british voices. i can feel them brush across me. but, but, but... it fades. it slips into clothes ive never seen before. memories, memories, memories fade, like fingers walking across a piano, drifting up or drifting down, either way, you get to a point where you can't reach and it simply runs out. the hall is empty. it only remembers the light. it only remembers the foot falls, the dancing toes, the sprawling nights. it only remembers the tide, it comes at night, but i never see it. you can see the timber, the sea wash up beyond any place it has business being. but where does this ramble? where do i go? i can pull the knife from my side, and it shatters like class, and falls in sparkles to my toes. i can collect it, i can collect it in my hands and cup it to my lips, i can take it in my mouth and i can swallow your blades, i can put us inside me, i can swallow all you give me, i can fill the sky, i can fill the sky with our diamonds. and i can fill my side with late summer grass and early autumn nests.

///FIRST FEATURE 7.11.10

2010-07-12T02:01:00.000-07:00

i am going to write a play after this.

page after page after page with lines and lines and lines of action with no dialogue is... exhausting.

a play would be nice. crackling repartee. meandering profound soliloquies. ahhh.

i'm dreaming.

page 50.

should make it to 60 no problem... should. once i wake her back up, he should have someone to talk to... if she's in the talking mood.

free write vii

2010-07-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

when i fall back, when i fall back completely overcome. overcome with still, with still mists. when i fall back and feel the full weight of unbroken thunderclouds, cool, ready, waiting... i feel them on my face and chest as i fall back. and on the ground, as the whisps shoot past my ear, tickle round my neck,,, my mouth, my mouth will slack, it will open, and it will glow, and it will beam as stars, giant stars, giant innumerable prominences reaching, reaching across space, across the lazy, languid, thin space between here, between there. and my mouth will open and things will pour from it and run down my cheeks, they will run up my face and pool in the deep of my closed eyes. it will be golden, it will be honey, it will be luminous. it will take it;s time, it wil make it as it moves. but, i,,, but i will wake and i will wipe this from my face, let it fall. i will wash it with my hands. can i open my eyes here? is it bright enough. will i find them blind, my eyes? find them blind like hands reaching for rays of sun. will i find somthing on the air, can i smell you only inches away? i have dreams. i have dreams and dreams and dreams. there are places i wander, and it alls, it call out, only in echo, only in quaking whispers. it doesnt take much to knock me from the rail. i was balancing, one foot in front of the other. but it comes like a gust. like a swift push and im falling from words. im falling from open eyes. and im falling to the ties. to the tines. that wrap them selves, the fingers tying knots in your hair. in your mane. and i will fan them out i will display them for a collection. i want this enough. i wonder if i can tell the truth, if it comes out as some other language, can i find the breath to move these lungs? i question, i question. i wish for this and that. i wish for your pain. i wish for your broken limbs. i wish for your sick and your death. so that i can come. i can come with holy palms, so that i can find the magic to heal you. to stitch you up and mend your bends. i wish for, i wish for. i wish for voices calling me. i wish for nightmares. i wish for overturned cars and poison meals. i wish for empty beds and long drinks. long drinks in the long still night of middle age. and i can be the condensation you wipe from your glass, the liquor you draw out with your finger. i can find my self running to your palm. meeting your breath as you clasp them (your fingers) in your mouth. i can be the ice, crumbling in your scotch. i can be the pulp in your gin. i can be the last sigh (the last gish) before you finally slink back, tumble back into waves of sleep. it takes us all under. and i find, more and more, that i run out of things to say. that i find myself turning circles. but i but i but i could be, i could be the pall, the shroud that covers you and keeps you. i could be the undone. i could be the tomb, and i could be the stars watching you turn to ash and calling you home to dance under the proscenium of dust and other unborn stars.

free write vi

2010-07-06T00:29:00.001-07:00

i took a dream this afternoon/// when i was in that nap to escape the day/ i took a dream and you were five or six people. there before me. and i took you and your legs were splayed and we shared a pice of ripe melon. running in long drops, unrolling like smoke, like fog on a new wind, running like stumbling children down our arms and off of our elbows. you were five or six and i was one or none. and i took the time to search the sheets. to search your legs. there is no saving. there is no counting . when we whisper. when we hold congress. when we find this wooden floor/i find these dreams old and vaporous. it goes up in smoke. up in furls. up in curls. and lights. lights in the sky. lights in the trees. i lose my train of thought and it takes hands, it takes large hands, as big as they sky to hewn. to cleave the new earth. to dear a crescent. to find the nape in your field. there are dreams i can taste. and there are tastes i can dream but it all runs out like beads of water. it finds the cracks and drip, drops. plops. the sky has run indigo, and i find the evening breeze as i turn to find the east. i find the moon cresting, i find it. secong gues this and i know i need to open up. i need to forget this place. forget my face as these whiskers grow, as this beard finds its way around my face. i havent looked in the mirror in ages. i havent bothered to step through i havent bothered. i havent bothered. i stop. but why. where does this go. i cough and i feel the dust settle in my lungs. i feel it wheeze and i wonder, i wonder when i spend myself alone, where it runs. where you find yourself when your eyes are closed and sunken. wher i findmyslef when i drift off to sleep. where i find myself when i drift off from life. there are roads ive never run. there are tides that have never washed me. and there are hills. there are hills that have not called. i cant look up, i cant look up to see where this is going. too conscious. too conscious. too worried of the eyes that might see this, its neither here nor there but it fumbles and i tumble and i ramble i see the same images over and over and over. and i cant help but feel that im beeing pulled apart. pulled apart by feral dogs and wild things there are two ways to go, and five to follow. five or six, i cant remember, i can never remember any dream i can never remember touch. i can never remember the lungs that fill, the chest that rises and falls like the sea in my arms. i never told you and i lied when i said i could feel your heart. and i remember. i rembeber wondering what that meant. i wcouldnt dream of what that meant it just drips away. i held myself there before your open chest and i could feel nothing. my had was warm agains your cooling chest and it was there, i saw your eyes but it was too deep below. not meant for my fingers not meant for my pulse. some unknown rhythm to, some foreign language to my searching palm. i want to dream. i want to speak in tongues.

///FIRST FEATURE 7.5.10

2010-07-06T00:21:00.000-07:00

45.

45 for now. i might dive back in. get him out the window.

this is definitely about a knife.

i find that i write shit unless i sit upright in my chair. i guess what's the point if even i don't care about what i'm doing?

i think i had a breakthru today... we'll see. i needed another location. it was feeling all too claustrophobic. holding one note from halfway thru until the end. i think i've added another layer. we'll see.

i still feel like i'm running thru, just laying down the spine. i'm not sure i care for the specifics of what i'm putting down. i know i can and will change it, i just hope it doesn't fuck my head in at the moment. gotta remind myself that ALL first drafts are shit. no matter what anyone says... it ALWAYS sucks on the first go. if someone says otherwise... they're hiding the first draft somewhere.

45. i feel like i should be at 50.

free write v

2010-07-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

there is something about your milk. full of spring, pressed through freshly grown grass... reaching... reaching for the sun. amber in afternoons. peeling under our skin. creeping over our bones. but we tip the basin and it runs over us, arms outstretched,,, reaching for tall red balloons. and we laugh. and before too long the dandelions are blown for all the wishes we can muster, all the wishes in the universe. and the sky colors and murks, and sinks into itself and opens its stars. there are too many to count. too many to share. too many to divide into this and that. but i have come. i have walked thru your doors and i find myself uninvited. i find myself at the edge of beds, tying my laces. graces. ungrossed. there are. there are times to preen and there are times to flick this to that. but i am unhome. i am out. i am gone. like skin excising a foreign body. my thorn. my splinter. copy of copy of copy. coffee ground too fine and run too many times. i run over the pavement, over the free way. when the sky closes its eyes and you cant feel when you end and it begins. you are not here or there and i her it cry in other rooms. the floor murmurs and my toes are cold against the slats. we pause. i pause i take time, and it winds like a struck bow, arching out over strings it calls (and returns). it bends in swooning feedback and i find my home in the chest, in the bosom, between the breasts of stars. i hear an impossibly faint heartbeat. disturbing swirling cosmic gas.clouds of unborn stars wrapped around my interstellar ships. across time and space i creep. moving slower than the procession. and light bends round my face blinding me in streaming blindfolds and mouth agape. i am come. i am broken into infinence. too many pieces to collect and label. this one goes here, that one goes there. but from my rubble, from my unmade self, the bees, the furry bumble bees climb out from under. i am no pollen and i can only remember honey, i remember the spring milk and honey. but it takes too long and this is the only thing i can hear. the rhythm of your shovel taking limb from limb. the rhythm of your shovel, the spade crack crack cracking the ribs. plying a beating heart. with each mound that flicks over your shoulder, i exit in crimson ribbons, and if the trees take the time, if they take their time to knot their roots thru my threadbare sighs i will fill their boughs with trembling songs. i will hold the silver birds until their song, until their call shines, until it brings back lovers, until morning comes. until i can find my own words. i will i will i will, tip this i will top that, and when i put my arms underwater, and pull the lotus from its root, i will taste i will sup all the earth and her earthiness,i will climb into her arms as she sings her lullaby, and i will be her son.i will be her now.i will be her forever. and i will glow withnotes so green and golden.

///FIRST FEATURE 7.4.10

2010-07-05T00:22:00.000-07:00

scuttle, muttle, ruttle.

if i push thru any more for the night, im sure to have to go back and right all the wrongs. undo the stitching and relay the foundation.

i went back to the beginning and inserted a knife. a good-luck charm.

lucky me... page 42.

if i go by my last page to minute ratio (5.5 pages to 11 minutes of screen time)... i only need 3 more pages. yeah... i got another 20-30 to go... at LEAST.

i hope i still like this when im done.

i just have to find the right music. i feel like i havent. and it's throwing everything off the rails.

42 pages in.

'night.

///FIRST FEATURE 6.27.10

2010-06-27T02:21:00.000-07:00

page 38.

i don't know what's wrong. granted, it's only been a couple days like this... but i can't seem to find a spark. nothing is going down with ease. i'm fighting for every word. i feel like i like the new changes in the outline... yet i feel like i'm undoing them as i go along.

i have a couple days off where i won't be able to work on it at all. maybe it just needs time to breathe.

maybe i need time to breathe.

He kicks him again and again and again.

WOMAN (CONT’D)
You’re going to spoil him.

The Man stops.

i stop. i just wish the ants would too.

free write iv

2010-06-27T02:20:00.001-07:00

i can hear, i can feel the warm breath of bones. the cool breath of dust. and it will astral project. it will find itself a phosphorescent cloud in the sky. it will reach out with lights, with arms with luminescence. it will want to touch the ground it will try and find me. but i won't be for want. i won't be digging holes in the ground. i will welcome it's quaking firecracker fingers. i will let it pull me up to the haze. and i will see.... i will see what ive always seen and i will fall. back to earth, and it will take days. it will take days until i find my way, i find my way between the hills. i still have dreams. and dreams seem to be all i can talk about. i find myself longing for dark. i want it to come in robes. i want it to come alone. share a little drink with me and chase the day away. i will let it fall. let night fall down my throat and through my lungs. because i... because i want you out of my blood. i would spill it if i could. if i was a glass. i would simply spill it. fill the tub. stop the drain,and im sure we could lazily bathe. we could bathe. we could bathe. and we would be made, made for sheets and other clean things. but there are things much more simple and hidden. im not sure, but i think you can play the keys, if it's not the keys then im lost, because i hear the buz. i hear it on the wind. it's calling "im calling for you motherfucker." i can hear it hear me. and gone. gone gone gone gone from this dirt. this dearth. this mirth. there were, there were... iwant there to BE. i want the future. i want the future like the future creeps. it moves along at a suggested speed. plead. breathe. and i can see us. i can see it. and i want. i can stall. i can find my way down the stairs and flip stones. flip the concrete and find the ants falling in waves. i wish i could ignore this. i wish i could just run to the sea and stare at the sun. i wish it would lose it's teeth. find this animal stalking the brush. and its teeth wouldfall, not one by one, but as a curtain falling on a stage, during rehearsal. but im pausing for too long. i have to watch the sky. i have to collect the dust. brush it away, i have to keep warm. i have to keep cool. there are things i kick with my toes and things i flick with fingers. but most of all there are things ive spent. ive spent my luck. ive spent my trust. and ive taken off all of my clothes. ive found myself nude. and ive found myself gone in front of you. and there are bones reaching out for me. there are tears tearing me apart. there are things i wish i would have never said (as much as i know thats a lie) i would haveswallowed them for us. for you. taken them like stones. swallowed and out to sea. swallowed them like glass. break the light and swallow the shards. and it will glow. i will light. and i will dig. and i will lie. i will lie and look at the jellyfish dancing /moaning/glowing in the sky. a spooky action at a distance.

///FIRST FEATURE 6.24.10

2010-06-25T01:28:00.000-07:00

34 pages in.

i may have written 4 pages tonight, but i just could not find a rhythm. i may have gotten thru a couple of beats, but none of it really feels like it's clicking, like it's singing. i just feel... off. but i'm pushing on. i just need to hit certain things and follow it thru. it's all going to change in editing. it always does.

it.
always.
does.

how 'bout that free write iii?

horrid.

ha. i knew some would be terrible... time to step on.

you can't dwell on failure. it will only make you cautious.

free write iii

2010-06-25T01:26:00.000-07:00

artichoke. pomegranate. split open, splayed with fingers. the oil, the nectar. i want you to dance on my tongue. i want to open the night. i want to own all of the things that crawl. i want to slip under the crashing waves. the crashing digital waves. buzz. hiss. hiss. but, but and i say but. there are ships. there are interstellar ships. that travel around the gravity. that wait. that wait for time to pass like so many arrows shot over your fence. your fences. into your garden. into your garden as i hav said. i need to lose control here. i need to open the taps i can feel it holding me from my chest i can fell me wanting to open. to hewn. to unhem. i dont know what i dream about anymore. i just leave room. i leave room to unfold, but everytime i wake, i find myself on my side. i find the plane lkzlk., m. thats cheating, those arent words. this is too bound. too contrived. i cant let it slip. i want to hold it too close. i want to drown this. like a bag of kittens. im grasping for threads. for red threads. from my fingers thru the serpentines. a big fucking pile of snakes. my muscles are knotted like a big fucking pile of snakes. and my fingers fall like wet stumps. broken branches. snap crack. dont you dare stop. there is too much distance to cover. but my eyes are heavy and this is going no where. im driving in circles i cant find the on ramp. my feet are dirty and i can only think of sleep. but that door doesnt. open. i dont find it takes me anywhere. there are roomss you dont come back from. there are rooms pregnant with sunlight. i remember a few things about that morning. i remember a few things as i dance. as i dance around this fire. the un fired fire. blown out by the wind and sizzled. sizzled by the rain. this should be shown to no one. i cant find my way through the dark. this is getting worse. i cant open my brain. my eyes wont focus. focus. i just want to pund the keys because i cant find the fucking bottom of this page. i can feel it cast. i want to turn over. i want to feel the world turn upside down as i go under. i can see the turbulent see. i can feel it list, i can see the caps so high. the caps so high of surging tides, all bent. all black on turning me over and it does. it turns and im under. and i cant find up. and i cant find down. but i just end right back up again and right back down, turning again and again and a gain and again. this shouldnt be read. this shouldnt be a language. this isnt lucky and its nto going to end. its too conscious. if there is such a thing. i used to want to live forever. scatterbrained and self edited. there is nothing too honest here. im holding too much back. there is. there is something i would like to tell you but im not sure that i can even tell myself. i cant even. i cant even tell if there is anything to tell. this is. the worst thing that has ever found the light of day. CONTROL. ALT. DELETE. worse before better.

free write ii

2010-06-23T01:26:00.001-07:00

you, you or i press my palm flat. press my palm flat against the morning or evening earth. what is it you ask? what does it feel like. its cool. but it warms to my touch. i can feel it move. i can feel the life. the bugs. the tendrils of grass and weed breathe. i can feel them grow warm with prespiration. respiration. and there is that mother in you that loves to see it smile that loves to hold it close like something heavy. heavy as the sky a thin marker of the space between where we live, where we live and where we dream. but i try to find the truth. i try to find my utility. there is nothing more. there is nothing more than all the sum of time to this moment. try as i might i move in this moment. the remembered present. moving thru jam or jelly (helly) never tasted so good. there is a place in you i would like to dig. cake my fingernails with you. watch you unfurl. like sails. like snails. like all those things alive and crawling. there are drinks ive tasted. there are things i wish i would have. it's amazing how many things move like wax. in packs. in packs of wild street dogs. animals roaming the barren cities. willl the wave come and fill the streets. i wonder. i wonder . i wooonelknsda . it moves in different languages and i struggle to keep up. i rmember shoulders. shoulders like jungle cats. stalking sleeping prey. but thats it. thats all i have. is a memory of a memory. a copy of a copy. there is nothing in here holding the line that plums my innards. there is no balance with that divide. i promise to stop checking the windows. stop waiting for something to hold its breath. i am a spent man, spending his last breath. spending it on empty sky. theres nothing up there but everything ive ever wanted. if i was massive. if my shoulders threatened to knock the sky from china, i would lie flat across the continent. i would hold the seas together. i would do my best to push. the... pushe thee. push the lines. push the blah. that was going no where. it's in the earth. it's in the core. i would dig myself raw to hold that molten light. to hold that trembling mother heart. to feel the lava, like first time lovers unable to hold a kiss between their lips. it slips. it slopes. it finds it self followin ropes. to the end. to the mend. around the bend. and it, we, i alone fall, i fall, i tumble and mumble, bumble and fumble. i am the sky. i take it with every breath. i take you and me and she and he. i breathe the stars and dust and ash of billions and billions. they say. they say that the atoms in my right hand are from a differnt star than the atoms in my left hand. fuck you. fuck that. i am those stars. i am still glowing with the light of a thousand gulls carrying the crest the sheets of night. i am become. i am that is. we are what all will be, i am this improper grammar and these mispelled words. i can hear the beams. the berm. and to quote. to recall. to make up... this bends and lists like a broken mother. it will give and it will break down. i am waking to find something beneath the earth.

free write i

2010-06-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

somehow it tumbles from the sea like electric. electric sea creatures. with spines for skies threading the clouds through knots, notches of vertebrae. drawing maps accross your back . over the sheets but there are things that i cannot say. things that i can not remember. because they have slipped out the back door and out the back alley. to meet and have drinks and smoke cigs standing in puddles. rain between the eaves. there was a time when all of this made sense, when i allowed this to all spill out. spilling glasses of gin across the table like a dribbling old man, lost with memories. ive spent way too much too much on what i hoped was, on what i hope will be. i need to make this now. i need to take that walk i promise myself. because time. time. that fucking prick fuck. is slipping thru with his veil. his vail with his eyes, smudges of dreams. these things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. letter. there are letters ive hidden. ticked away for another time. there are letters ive ripped to pieces. there are letters ive burned. and there are letters ive promised. its funny the things we tell ourselves just to make it thru the day , just to make it to another person. roads we drive. lines we cross. ive spent these years, these worn and tired years following a ghost. a ghost lead on a line, down a path i thought was mine. but my eyes were closed. or half open. i cant tell anymore becase i cant hear and i cant see. i remember the sand. the sand at the sea. how the tide would wash up and swollow pieces of me. carrying them out to where i couldnt see. sea . leigh. you have to wonder. at least i do. where the time. goes. there are places in this w;e world i will never touch. never. and there are people in this world i will never see. it ends unending. it ends before i begin. ive drawn this bullshit line too many times. there is no me. there is no you. there is only is. we are ilkasd floating. we are not floating. hey, keep this positive. keep this constructive. i am paper mache. i am cardboard cutouts. i am construction paper. reds. frayed edges. torn, not cut. not cut with big scissors. but with the ones that split and fold the paper. there is no end. there is no fucking end. but i will make a path. i will open these doors and i will let myself go i will find my path. i will lose my shoes and walk along a path that i have long forgotten. i will toughen these soles. i will let them bleed and scab. becasue this is my path. and only i can walk it. oh jesus fuck, how miserable does that fucking sound. how goddamn cliched. but at least as the sky. as the sky forgets its name and the morning forget to call, i will find a place where i make sense i will find a place where, when i wake. when i write these fucking things i wont be hitting the goddamn back space nearly as often as i ahve this is my mind and it will be slowly opening one freewrite at a time. one page ata time. warts n all.

///FIRST FEATURE 6.21.10

2010-06-22T00:02:00.000-07:00

29 pages in.

i've written another four tonight on my march toward 70, 80, 90? somewhere in there. i'm not all too concerned with the page count as much as getting something i can stand behind. something i can put in front of a lens and say... HERE I BEGIN. at the same time, i'm trying not to wrap up too much in the "importance" of the effort. i'm trying to allow the script to breathe and be what it needs to be. BUT, i am trying to keep a clear mind and not hold anything back. no compromise. not here. not with this one. i know there will be constraints, but i mean no compromise particularly with the characters. they must do and say EVERYTHING to get what they want and need. i don't know that i've held back in the past, but i'm trying to make sure that even at this early stage, i'm pushing everything to its most logical (to me) and dramatic (traumatic) conclusion.

LOTS OF BLOOD will help too, obviously.

i'm not sure what this (this blog) will be anymore. maybe just a place to decompress after a couple pages. think about thinking. keep my brain processing. meta meta meat shit.

a quick note on process this time out: i've decided to go with a VERY loose outline that i've been keeping in my molsekine. and by that, i mean it's a long string of single words and short phrases. i'm slowly discovering that while i need the overall structure, the spine set in - scene to scene and IN the scene i need to keep it very loose until i actually lay it down on the page. otherwise, i feel stale and trapped before i even hit a key. process of process.

tonight's outline was:

IS THIS WHO YOU ARE?
CLEANED UP
TIME FOR A DRINK
WHY WOULD YOU GO THRU ALL THAT?
LEVEL WITH ME
THERE WAS SOME BLOOD
THIS IS A STRONG DRINK
CLOTHES
WHAT WERE YOU LOOKING FOR?
OUT

i have run so many ragged roads

2010-04-11T00:16:00.000-07:00

without voice
like weeping with/

wounded
bloody
flowered
t/i/g/e/r/s
bone bare
&
honey suckled
but none so ragged
as the ragged day
the ragged day
i forgot your name

/// like mellotrons dancing in the sky \\\

2010-01-12T20:14:00.000-08:00

this is a weird mix of nostalgia and mild (yet retching) embarrassment.

i recorded this album several years ago (with great help from my good friend sean mccracken). i almost cant remember why anymore. well, thats a lie, but thats for me.

anyway, i recorded this in a little over two weeks and is quite possibly the best summation of myself at any given time. it's definitely dated, simple, fumbled in places (most tracks were first takes... and recorded as i was figuring the songs out), and well before i ever found anything i could call my voice.

you definitely want to listen now, don't you? haha.

it's fun in places, though lingering in most. if you have headphones, i highly recommend lying back with them, and crank it if you can take it.

THE CAMERAHEAD - eternal (2006)

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/564437/Eternal.zip

(if the link ends up not working for some reason or another, let me know and i'll get it to you somehow).

///

so this marks the end of one arbitrary measure of time and the beginning of another. i'm putting something together. a new thing. a new thing called knives at dusk... with an acoustic album called "owls"... we'll see. but sooner than you think.

ダンス、ダンス、ダンス

2009-09-27T14:32:00.000-07:00

something is amiss.

rent by dogs and other wild things, scraped clean like a melon, i have never been consumed by so much self-doubt. i feel as though i'm before some passage, before some gate... and no part of me may pass thru. every turn i take, i do my head in. i am a man split from his ghost and losing his shadow. a lemon squeezed and grated.

my mind fades. it slips out like smoke thru clasped hands.

i am tired. so tired.

but i wont give up.

i will not give in.

as flaccid as these words fall, i can not release myself to this deafening self-pity, this tape on endless loop. i have to reconcile that i dont see, think, or feel the same way as anyone. i am laying this thread alone thru the serpentines. there is strength in me still. there is still some light. some ember not yet snuffed.

i can get thru this shit even if it's blind.

one foot in front of the other. one foot in front of the other.

Farming the Oceans, the Moon and Antarctica.

2009-08-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

got a chance to catch modest mouse at the grove in anaheim on saturday. while it was a bit daunting to mix with the bros... at least i had a little sanity with me in the form of rebecca.

sirens.

audio quality is not superb, but it was quite stellar never the less.

this gentleman dancer was more than pleased to catch some tunes.

i did not initially agree, but probably the longest wait for an encore since the pumpkins in '96. cigarettes take time... cigarettes take time.

colours.

vanish/songbirds.

2009-08-04T19:39:00.001-07:00

with a
dull thud
a patter
of heavy fingers

the click
click
clicking
of a spent cassette

i dream of
jungle cats
and
oysters

every parasite
in that
salty
musky

opal liquor

can
run from chin to toe
from palm
to crook
to elbow

i curse
the waking songbirds
pulling the red
from
reverberant
ashen skies
pulling the distance
unfurling the ghost sheets
that find your
fingers
drawing circles
in honey

and the songbirds
purl
with
quavering silver threads
that i will
vanish
vanish

v . a . n . i . s . h

pollen.

2009-07-26T22:07:00.000-07:00

it spreads out
thin as
a cloud
of swooning monarchs
on the lip
on the hip
of
tall
afternoon grass
lazy with southern dew
a murder of white crows
gather
to nest
in my chest
empty as
morning
kitchen cupboards
dusty
with pollen
and other
wild things

winter/summer

2009-07-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

flickr.

a haunted man.

2009-07-09T01:07:00.001-07:00

i have made myself a haunted man. i find myself in double exposures. chasing magenta hearts and cyan coronets. i find myself a held breath held too long. a child clawing for the ceiling of a foreign sea - kissed - by deep antarctic monstros - just before the breach.

you
are the first breath
that swallows the sky
fervid
blind
a home
pregnant with sunlight
infinite

new!/new!/new!

2009-07-09T00:33:00.000-07:00

ive been taking more pictures lately, and for once, theyre not with my iphone (although, i did just get a 3gs! booyah, macro focus!). i shot these with some canon dslr. i have no idea what the specs are, it's a camera from christian and sammys school... i just know it was slow as hell (between f3.2 and f5.6).

in other picture news, i turned in my very first ever roll of 120mm i shot with my holga (which i got for christmas) and i should be getting those back friday (ilford delta400).

if you want to see the rest of this night of bastardliness, clicky:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaimeryanheintz/

tired.

2009-06-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

and
from up here
the clouds roll together
like
first time lovers
listening for
shallow breathed
heartbeats
in the moist stillness
between lips
against the
caw
of dawning birds

june, already.

2009-06-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

shoulders.

2009-06-03T23:05:00.000-07:00

shoulders

/like/
photos of
foreign mountains

/like/
a pair of
spent bengal tigers

fantastical
dangerous
blades

BOOYAH.

2009-05-18T16:05:00.001-07:00

it's been far, far too long since i last posted, but here's a few from some ramblings with the iphone. one day, i swear i'll get a proper camera... seriously.

bastard color study.

to topple the world!

the office beset with earthquake weather.

sneaking up on vampires.

hold your breath, they bite.

underwater lighting.

pre-honda-ya excitement.

bastard below bastard.

unsettling at the very least.

theyre huge in japan... or they will be.

how do you choose when it's all delicious?

obviously thinking about the croquettes.

no pinkie, no class, sorry bastard.

where. is. the. food.

purposely made this dark enough to CRUSH the D-on-D.

he knew it was coming.

and tried to act betrayed... though his heart desired no other thing.

bastard on bastard.

the glass will surely kill us... if it gets the second chance...

needed this more than i realised.

2009-04-19T20:44:00.001-07:00

just a fever/i'll shake it off/i'm sure.

2009-03-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

but,
how many coincidences do you get before it's considered kismet?

stormy skies/slick soles

2009-02-22T21:32:00.001-08:00

i havent been writing many words these days... probably because ive been trying to tear myself away from the screen every chance i get. some of this is around the office, some of this is in laguna for sammys birthday, and some of this... is about shoes (im sure ill work my way up to full fledged fashion soon).

/ / /

rainy day ramen.

2009-02-16T18:49:00.001-08:00

christian and i thought it would be a good idea to grab some ramen on this beautiful rainy day. he called sammy and i drove down. good call indeed.

/ / /

in "other" news, i finished a draft of the self portrait of a pretentious bastard last night. i dont know how good it is... or if it even is at all. it's drawing close to that point where i just have to walk away and call it what it is... a first script. but even im burdened with some level of standards. it is a weight off of my shoulders at the very least... until i get back to work on something else that is. but, at least if anyone asks if i have anything, i dont think id be too embarrassed to pass it along.

back to a lazy weekend.

my ears are hot. whatever youre talking about, please stop, this is annoying.

the scary thing is-

2009-02-09T21:51:00.000-08:00

there will come a day when i completely subscribe to a carefully crafted mania that scientologists are responsible for every one of my disasters.

private and professional.

when this comes to pass-
please nourish it, or i will be forced to assume you are one of them.

and i will be right.

photostream.

2009-02-07T17:55:00.000-08:00

ive been wandering thru The Commons over on flickr and ive found some pretty damn amazing stuff. here are a couple of my favorites from my cursory digging today. ill probably be adding more since im taking time to get some writing done this weekend... which means ill be spending most of my time not writing. so, if you like these, keep checking... or go for a stroll yourself.

dont. becuase i dont know.

2009-02-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

are men marching with acoustics over warm and rolling, tumbling, hills. the downs. here and there. knobby knees of cast iron kettle green. a stretch long enough for the clouds to lay their bellies on the grass(and run along and thru a wood like children with streaming ribbons).

pretend youre an airplane. an airplane above the sky. you know no better and i want no better than:::

:::arms in the rain:::

please let me remember: i take you by the hand. knot our fingers like a language you cant untie. with fingernails clenched white; there is no place i would not follow; fast first to sleep then vanishing shadows running from; parted morning curtains; swollen with sun.

shoegaze.

2009-01-30T00:33:00.000-08:00

preen.

2009-01-30T00:04:00.000-08:00

your skinny ankles
dance and flop
like cousins
writing letters
talking over
strings and tin cans
plucking blades/knives
of uneven summer grass

but
hips crash like trains
and
trains crash like waves
like snakes
just imagine the dust

theres no counting casualties
in the aftermath
of

thoughtless tired hands
pulling like big gravity
like plush
like a chance to preen
in a flared lens

endless.

2009-01-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

and.

2009-01-26T03:23:00.000-08:00

the rain decided
to fall
all at once.

apparently.

NON SEQUITUR (i want to walk around with you (just you, just you))

2009-01-22T22:06:00.000-08:00

(from rob white @ www.thearthole.co.uk)

listening to a lot of new (at least to me) good music lately:
{animal collective} {atlas sound} {crystal castles} {final fantasy} {high places}

i would instantly recommend any of those. and yeah yeah, before you two get all up in a tizzy... sigh... yes, thank you rebecca and wei.

my chef script is taking shape (in my head)... and has a title (the most important step in the writing process)... but thats for me (for now) and will be revealed in all its grand opulence later. unfortunately, i think ill have to do some "serious research" (wink wink... i.e. eating at lots of international restaurants, touring kitchens, talking to chefs, and all around gluttonising myself...) before i attempt writing this one.

some cool d'n'a stuff ive seen of late:
{my fonts} {acne paper} {look book} {west east} {audi} {trendir}

turns out i might FINALLY be vindicated on my belief that there IS life on mars. yes, i said vindicated.

quiet earth saw the trailer for betty i am over on vimeo and decided theyd link to it and declared they wanted to see it. haha. strange world these interwebs. oh, and we're on imdb now.

gonna start working on an album for and the holy roman empire on saturday. decided it's time to make the best freaking record... EVER. im thinking of just stealing all the new stuff ive been doing from the camerahead. why should i feel i need to keep the two projects separate? i feel like there is a huge part of myself that im not expressing with athre. gonna pull out all the stops, not care how we might play it live. we'll figure that out later. pretty excited.

situational dilemma question of the day:

if you HAD to have sex with either: a woman who had a penis OR a man who had a vagina, which would you chose.

so far, the count is 5:0 in favor of the hot lady with the penis. i have my theories on this... but im interested to know what youd pick before i start making amateur generalizations... as adept as they might already be. STUN me.

the wandering iphone pt2

2009-01-20T00:08:00.001-08:00

this was the table i used to play under when i was a kid. this table was my spaceship.

at anja's. it's still inside me... somewhere...

after dinner in the city with jolene.

the morning i left.

first show at the place where river phoenix died.

it's fuzzy. trust me.

end of some things.

william mason the third.

sad little orphanage.

production design field trip.

couldnt be more clear.

the boss.

work for a bit.

hero. man. doyle.

i still think you can crush a keg with people.

i quit.

creeper.

stalker.

some improvisation. some delicious improvisation.

douglas chung.

my friend the bluejay. he likes my tunes.

sad day. wish i could have taken you home. fixed you up. sent you on your way.

secret dream: fashion photographer.

park with cigarette and bike.

the grand bastard with beer on bucket.

accidental product of the modern age.

the los angeles theatre.

just a man. just a man.

raw stock.

finished. (sorry, but daikokuya IS the best ramen in town.)

blue chip. bright night.

relax. i got this.

fuck.

blessed with good luck before the end of the year.

dont think ive seen two people more happy in a best buy.

my brother, mumbling around like mr. bean.

AU\TO\LUX.

2009-01-18T17:59:00.000-08:00

(photos by: rebecca brieanna ramage)

i really could not have asked for a better show.

rebecca and i got there a little early and where accosted with "coupons" for "healthy" vodka. mine was fortified with vitaminB and hers was caffeinated. healthy. yes.

anyway, wooden shjips brought it pretty psychedelically. some of the bros around us we not too appreciative, but i think i was picking up what they were putting down. i guess at the end of the day, some people wont like your music. so it goes. so it motha fuckin goes.

after some crowd checkers, we got a pretty good spot on the right side near the subs (didnt quite get coronated... but not bad anyway). gotta say though, the henry fonda has some excellent bass. just fuzzes up my chest and rattles my ribs.

autolux. what can i say? ive been waiting 4 or 5 years to see them. somehow kept missing them. but honestly, im glad i waited. the old stuff still seemed fresh... but... the new stuff... the new stuff they played was revelatory. at least for me.

this is where i stop talking about the show.

hearing their new music was a bit of a wake-up call. ive been stuck in a rut with my music for quite some time. the problem was, i was trying to make "songs." i lost my passion for sound and texture - for experimentation. i forgot that you can spin something off of a fucked up bent-tuning and unholy self-eating fuzz (i know i already used that word, but this is my blog and i want to use it twice).

more than anything, thats what the show meant to me.

hope in pedal boards.
transcendence in feedback.

dreams in distortion.

("we're just up here moving molecules")

a truly unplanned encore. an actual intimate moment. i love these guys even more.

where to?

2009-01-14T00:44:00.000-08:00

some days, i like my script. some days, i hate my script.

today, i hate my script.

of course, it doesnt help to look outside my window and see this.

i dont know if its just that ive been working on this one for so long, or if im starting to go off track again. either way, maybe i need to take a break from it and... i dont know.

i dont like where this script puts me. the middle of it is never much fun. not a fun place to be. but it helps me fuck with the characters more... which i guess makes it funny. but it always seems to kinda suck in the moment. but, at least by the time i get to the end there is a certain catharsis. usually.

god, id really love to be done with this one once and for all.

but i guess theres something to be said for detail and getting it right. whatever that means.

i need a vacation.

ha.

black and white. super 16mm. trailer. (or: more than i was willing to admit)

2009-01-08T00:36:00.000-08:00

betty i am - Trailer (Jazz) from jaime ryan heintz on Vimeo.

so, we shot this thing just over two years ago and it seems like it's all coming together in some form or another. the final cut is done, we're getting music rights, and final audio mixing is about to start.

i really don't even know how i got so entwined with this film. first thing i hear from jose, "hey, wanna grip for me?" then i think, "hey, wanna camera op for me?" and then... "hey, uh... wanna dp for me?"

WHAT?! dp your feature film... ON FILM... the project youre going $20,000 into debt for?!

ME?!

might as well have asked me to perform a transplant on a hemophilic infant. it had been at least a year or two since i had previously dped... and i was never really happy with my results... on school shorts... not features. but, jose trusted me for some reason. maybe he had to.

and... to scare me more shitless. given the circumstances, i knew i wouldnt see ANYTHING of what we shot until well after we finished production. no dalies. no saftey. no reshooting. in fact, we didnt see the footage until we did the telecine... ONE FULL YEAR LATER. so yeah, there was a little trepidation, a big sigh, and forehead rub every time i gave an f-stop to naoe, chisho, or wooja.

thing is, i kinda decided early on (and to what extent jose actually agreed, i have no idea) that if we were going to do this thing truly low budget and take inspiration from the french new wave and jarmusch films... we HAD to go out on a limb... i was going to have to go out on a limb. far fucking out.

i dont think we had anything stronger than a 1k, and maybe only two or three at that, so i pretty much knew everything was going to have to be pretty much practical. i knew i didnt want to over light anyway (since thats a HUGE pet peeve of mine anyway (and it should be yours too!)). most, if not all, of the day stuff was lit by a window (or direct sun) with black hung on the opposite wall and exposure set for the highlights. just aimed that meter globe right at the window. no sweat, right? contrast ratio? latitude? characteristic curve? HA!

i think i had a mantra - if youre not taking a chance, it's not worth doing.

i knew i could have fucked up miserably... no catastrophically. but i didnt tell anyone... unless i laughed it off with an uneasy smile and a touch of feigned bravado.

jesus, that was stupid. haha.

anyway, it's done. it turned out pretty well (still some stuff i'd change, obviously)... but i am forever grateful to jose for offering me the opportunity to hang myself.

the feature and trailer were cut by me (another long story).

the music featured here is "le coeur qui jazze" by france gall.

(and, if you follow this (http://www.vimeo.com/2758101) link, you can download the source video, if youre into that kind of thing)

up.

2009-01-04T23:54:00.001-08:00

are there sounds beyond whats calling me.
calling you.

script pages done.
hard drive failure.
i want to get out and take some pictures.

stuck. stuck. stuck.

2008-12-31T15:19:00.000-08:00

im stuck at page 35. these scenes are the most important because they turn a very important corner. evan and sabrina must connect so completely. this is my thought process, or at least part of it. you might not care, but it might help me.

[2:48pm]
these scenes are dead. utterly fucking dead. they were probably never really alive. what's worse is that sabrina is coming off as a caricature. she cant do that. i cant do that.

[2:53pm]
cutting away anything that doesnt reek of truth. big red marks all over the page (yes, i use red pens... liberally).

[3:05pm]
i think i have an idea to lead this out of the valley of cliché. i just need to find an in.

[3:23pm]
passion is not enough.

[3:26pm]
evan and sabrina need to be pulled together with the city swirling around them. theyll have plenty of time to be pushed apart later.

[3:35pm]
feeling too restricted by the current scenes. going to delete and start over. at least from the farmers market thru the schlock montage to the apartment. gonna eat an apple first though. a pink lady. aint no fuji, but still nicely tart. they also have strange bums that remind me of pomegranates.

[3:54pm]
someone stuffed a pillow up thru my eyelids.

[4:04pm]
cant figure out how to start the scene that isnt completely tired and uninspired. need to let it percolate in the ole subconscious. i feel better now that everything else is gone now.

f this s.

2008-12-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

ive pretty much had enough of this. im done talking. im going to make this work. as soon as i get home (haha, conditions already), im going to hit the ground running and start getting my next two projects together.

project 1:
spec. commercial (possibly the VW one i had in mind... i'll have to detail my car and find a parking garage... and a new cast... and an HD video camera... and this is a long parenthetical)

project 2:
a music video that DOES NOT make me cringe every time i see it (good luck with that!)

oh, and finish everything else thats on my plate. HA.

as phantoms are want

2008-12-27T01:11:00.000-08:00

these fingers and toes
ive done them into
cracked glass ice lakes
water black as
mountains
before night
against a red/greying sky
asthmatic clouds
sewing big city lights
and
cosmic kites

once warm
before your
yawning neck
your
arcing back
a bridge
suspended by
spent breath
joining
cocked hips
to
climbing orphaned shoulders

a phantom
whispering
between sheets
/caution now/

/c/a/u/t/i/o/n/
/n/o/w/

before im comatose

2008-12-25T23:04:00.000-08:00

i want this like buddha wants nothing.

these days are killing me. slipping by, digging me in the ribs on the way thru to something else (presumably better), reminding me that im sitting idly by. i need to finish my film. i need to get work from this. i need to plan my next project. i have an idea for a vw commercial, but im a little worried that my car might be getting a bit old for such antics. anyone know anyone that can do a good german accent? or even just a funny one that would piss a couple germans off?

ive been watching a lot of music videos lately. i guess ive kind of forgotten how completely satisfying they can be. how freeing to make. no commitment to story or general logic really. just a little light, a little crooning. its stunning how many performance videos are so good.

(sorry if i make little to no sense at the moment, im still a bit on the tipsy side from the wine during christmas dinner (a nice local petite sirrah if you must know))

i used to hate performance videos so much. what the hell was i thinking? although, it was a little difficult to get access to an artist at 14... and even then, i knew getting some mid-pubescent twat to sing a smashing pumpkins song was a bit... much.

keep it simple, right? right?

so many videos either shake a bunch of ass in your face or feel compelled to provide some sort of twist ending to some irresponsible or dross rain-swept love story (am i really that fucking jaded?).

but, even after making an abysmal performance video (sorry, jeremy and jessica, it's all my bad. we should have gone for that extra day), i still feel that if you cant deliver a compelling video with an artist just performing their music, you really have no business doing anything. ever. go home.

an artist/singer is usually successful for some reason, and if you cant capture that - or worse, you stifle it or cock it up... anyway, who the fuck am i? how many mtv music video awards have i won?

i need some song ideas. anyone know any local bands?

think postive, right? and the light of the universe will shine on you... or some bullshit like that. haha.

more rooms, no doors

2008-12-24T22:09:00.000-08:00

random thoughts for today.

need to renew my passport. i have no plan (other than fantastical daydreams), but i feel the need to escape. the air must be getting thin. im craving france. im craving spain. im leaning toward london/japan. maybe just leave for a month and hit them all? reinvent the jet-setter. buy some hand tailored suits in italy... fuck it, maybe africa. find our real home. haha. somewhere where i need shots and full medical.

i need to fix my protools computer. i need to work on music. my brain feels like an overfilled water balloon longing for an untrimmed blade of grass. i hear nothing but fuzz and bleeps and bips and acoustic reverberations. i cant find the music i really want to listen to, so i guess i have to make it, fail miserably, and be sick of it by the end anyway. but i also need something like these (crosses fingers).

i want to read something new (even though i have several books started...). im still trudging thru the iliad and reading a book for a friend (shes adapting the screenplay and i think it would be a little difficult to offer useful notes unless i read the source material... i think. maybe not). i havent read a novel i cant put down in quite a while.

but most of all, i really want to be able to get thru all these small things so i can get back to writing. ideas are slowly moving for 'the self portrait of a pretentious bastard,' i still need to find an ending to 'marathon' that doesnt make me cringe, and something is brewing in my head for 'gaia.' i dont know what it is, but i feel bits working themselves out in my head. who knows, i might actually get a draft out of myself by summer? (woah, lets not push it there buddy).

i think i need to make this place more into an actual blog. i think i need an outlet. for some reason, it seems rational and expected to actually over-think things here... like why i want to type "over-thing" instead of "over-think" ... must be some muscle memory bullshit in my fingers fucking with me. stupid fingers, why cant you remember your own songs? i guess thats another story. ha.

ok, im done. im shutting you out now. happy winter solstice eve pagans :)

toes fingers nose

2008-12-19T23:56:00.000-08:00

it's 4am and it's singing to the dark
it's 11pm and it's shiny waxy vinyl
it's 3am and it's mending thru fog
it's 1am and it's fingers spiraling thru hair
it's 11am and it's longing. already.
it's 2am and it's lost hands and it's closed eyes
it's 5am and it's dawn tumbling round its bend
it's 7pm and it's a smile, it's a laugh

it's not being able to say enough
it's worrying about saying too much

it's time stretching out like a bow to play two notes together
quiet
subtle
quaking
piercing
tremulous
hushed
and returning

the catch of a cresting breath

2008 in a line (or less (or more))

2008-12-14T13:21:00.000-08:00

this will likely be updated as i remember more... so chill.

radiohead at hollywood bowl - underwelming... until (edit) the gloaming.
m83 saturdays = youth - yes, they do indeed.
m83 at henry fonda - why couldnt we dance all night?
portishead 3 - perfect album, perfect timing.
why? alopecia - still feels like it was made for me.
titus andronicus / no age at the troubador - a storm of interesting events.
garth marenghi's darkplace - new to me and saved my life.
myspace - hello facebook.
christian's graduation/show - a big bright shining star.
audi r8 in person - thy name is lust.
rock & roll acid test - LA cast and crew = most glorious bastards ever.
dark knight returns - i MUST do an entire film in imax.
indy 4 - limp-wristed, at best.
rambo - hahahahaha. so much blood!
wall-e - i hate it when robots make me feel.
the happening - still want to see it and laugh my ass off.
hellboy ii - sorry chris, i was non-plussed.
tropic thunder - tom cruise almost undid it for me.
star wars: clone wars - could not be bothered.
academy awards (yes, i know its technically FOR '07) - paul thomas anderson was robbed.
playing live at the viper room - im soooo sorry.
playing live at the el rey - we'll be good next time, i promise.
betty i am - couldnt be more proud of jose.
election - obama not bad, still was hoping for mckinney.
proposition 8 - some things still amaze me.
the greatest love letter ever written - took way too long to get together.
sigg - everyone should have one, not just the hipsters.
love - putting one foot in front of another.
finishing moleskine sketchbook - next one will be even better, more worn out, awesome.
the orange box - i know im late to the party, but portal is the best game ever.
mlg national championship - str8 rippin FTW, next year walshy, next year!
summer olympics - glorious HD... MUST go to the 2012 games in London... end of story.
the curious case of benjamin button - can. not. wait.
new friends - from the strangest places.
finishing the photo-a-day project - SEE i can finish something.
food / cooking - pork-chop with radicchio and apple... god came in my mouth.
turning 28 - friends are meaning more than ever.

. . .

looking forward to in 2009:

finishing the greatest love letter ever written
spain
london
japan
film work
a studio
more cooking
finishing: the self portrait of a pretentious bastard/marathon
new music: whatever i can find/am given and the camerahead/and the holy roman empire
taking time

i still believe in choice (looking for corners and finding hope)

2008-12-10T12:39:00.000-08:00

it thunders across the sky like large ships through the sand. it implodes in rooms and sizzles on wires. this is what fuzz and mellotrons are for. the whole measurement of here to there. marked bit by bit. recorded in catalogs and almanacs.

so we lift the fallen fruit. we take the tender ripened labor of another year. the sum of falling rain and drifting ash on a hill. on a hill sliding to the sea. does it call, does it shine, will it last the winter.

but,

and this is important.

there are rumblings, there are mumblings of;;; a slowly cresting silver dawn for crippled children and wounded sloping memories filled with golden apples in the glen. if there is the will and if there is the stay it,ll be pianos calling you softly, warmly from an early grave... to dance once more upon this earth we are bent to till again and again.

honeycomb & wild apples & starships

2008-11-30T20:54:00.000-08:00

like fiery-eyed troublemakers
running through the thick
of
an early morning dream
a faint taste
like
dead batteries
at the top of my throat

maybe,
the bitterness of honey

rub your wrists together
strain your fingers apart
the amber
running to
the crook of
barely splayed
fingers

one knuckle
two knuckles

dancing with your feet locked
with your knees locked
hinging/unhinging
its your neck that does the
rocking
like
wild apples
on tender thin branches
like starships
'round
black holes

two knuckles
three knuckles

no tooth has loosed itself

2008-11-07T00:29:00.000-08:00

so many dreams about loose teeth. chipped. uprooted. rotting. spitting them out. one. spittouh. two. spittouh. three. spittouh. they fall before i can catch them. lost in grass. down the drain. swallowed.

your face is a blur. an amalgamation of sky and skin. strands of hair across your face. only a mouth and chin. but i know its you. i assume its you. i question if its you. i dont think its you. but i tell myself, its you.

where does this toothless hole and that eyeless face meet? where does it all come together? where are the lines drawn? a promise made on the riverbank is still a promise before the forgotten kings of the cold and trembling caverns.

sometimes i wake in a sweat. sometimes i wake with an erection. usually i have to piss. with an erection.

the point is.

the point is.

the point is... is that this verse chorus verse is killing me almost as much as im killing you.

porcelain nails

2008-09-25T03:36:00.000-07:00

in stuttered shutters
a well rehearsed genuflection
breathes in
breathes out
the olive oil
across your palms
between your
breasts
and across your
temple and tabernacle

you beat me to the punch
caught me hands up
reclining in a wooden chair
over lacquered concrete
waiting to fall
and split the prize
one for me
two for you
salt on our tongues
preserving our languages

///LINE///

2008-09-24T23:37:00.000-07:00

my sky is black
my shoes are red
just a mouth full of loose teeth

hold the phone
pump the brakes

crack the glass against
sleeping shoulders and doubled knees
hands done up
hands done up in
pink and blue bouquets

if where ive been
tells me who i am
i lost my way long ago
and i am
i am my kingdom come

less and less and less

2008-07-13T01:25:00.001-07:00

the windows are down and the arms are out. the drops cascade in blankets of plush. a summer rain offering gardenias on the warmth.;

several minutes and my hands are numb. the maze of my ears waiting for/ the pulsing of/ the rhythm of/ the needles in/

your heart
your heart
your heart

your voice, your feet, the sheet wrapped and translucent pink between our limbs, under the arms of, leafless trees.

the sparrow on the bough sings the rain that streams into us both

me/without\you
in a cloud at the bottom of a well

(yeah, im the only one here now)

gonna shake these spirits right outta my limbs

2008-07-04T04:04:00.000-07:00

and falling through the trees. scratchety scratch scratch; that tiny place at the corner of my eye. the crook where my memories glow like flies.

its better up here
its better up here

///than down at the bottom of a well\\\

when you see the moon once a month, and you hear the crow(nine times it caws),,, you want the water, you want the sky, you take the kaleidoscope of stars [forgetting how far,how irrepressibly radiant,] you take it for yourself. into the hollows, but lose it to: the yawning, the purple and green of morning. every. last. time.

id rather to the pink and blue. the brown-red-blonde. a remembered sigh forgotten before its over. lose it all to the hand on my chest and your breasts drawn (in dawn) against these ribs

years years years

2008-07-02T01:09:00.000-07:00

i dig through the earth (between the open,crooked roots of the last willow). shining somewhere below, i can feel it, like sweat collecting on the coast of your spine. cool. salty. despite the summer sweetness of nights tumbling under unbroken clouds.

what was i saying?

where was this going?

must, must, MUST watch

2008-05-05T21:38:00.000-07:00

i think i caught a bit of this over on [adult swim] one night... and to be honest, my life has never been the same. i see things ive never seen before and i feel things ive never felt before (like... love).

if you ever intend to speak with me again, you must watch all 6 episodes of garth marenghi's drakplace. here's part one of episode one. after this, youll have to do the rest of the digging yourself... but its well worth it... WELL worth it. you NEED this.

and heres a little gem that pops into my mind every now and then... ENJOY.

youre welcome.

belly of the beast

2008-05-03T21:53:00.000-07:00

chris invited me over to his senior show in laguna. he's graduating from the laguna college of art and design in a couple of days and this was essentially the culmination of his artistic education. beautifully inspired (to say the least), i cant wait to see what he does next.

yeah, he really cant bitch about his commute.

the pretense began immediately.

luxurious.

"i may not know art... but i know a good ass." well, he didnt say that... but he would.

been here done this.

2 of 5 (notice... the bastard on the left...)

talk of the town and priced to sell.

yeah, you know... it's gonna be a masterpiece.

he said i could have it when he was done... yeahYEAH (and now its in writing).

bask much?

saturdays = youth

2008-04-22T00:16:00.001-07:00

perfect summer album for long warm nights.
.gorgeous.

persimmon (collection of nonsense)

2008-04-17T02:17:00.001-07:00

a sable horse. between the trees. a brush stroke of god /// its funny. how she threads her smile. time shakes off like a ripened persimmon.

.it was the crow.

a sable horse. winds its mane /// golden hair. glowing filament. falling like. feedback calling to itself (in) .lustful. .fevered. .tones.

a sable horse. a line of yarn. into (out of) the glen.

( w i d e )

2008-03-26T01:52:00.000-07:00

the back
of my head
is
a line of clouds

forgotten blue skies
as black as
inky fingers

an echo
sleeping
in the sand

a midnight tide
slips in
thru
an open mouth

like pollen
into the sky
onto an eyelash

languid.lazy.laconic

2008-02-28T01:06:00.000-08:00

its almost funny how this doesnt work. its almost funny how time slips by ///and its more than a year, more than a decade, more than a lifetime/// chasing arrows into the snow. but it only melts and im tired, tired, so tired. sleep tries to crawl over me, running its fingers through my hair, but i cant find the right song. look at me, im scatterbrained. its shaking my head, ready for the roll. here comes the piano, running circles, tripping down the stairs.

im sorry

where is my house

where is my home

there were lazy afternoons. there was time to laze about. languid languid hours. there was time to warm your hands. there was time to listen for echoes and hear the whispers in your hips. there was time.

its almost funny.

[ 2 . 1 8 . 0 8 ]

2008-02-18T01:03:00.000-08:00

she takes it all away. there is no recourse. she walks through walls and passes through my skin... but it doesnt hurt, i dont feel a thing,,,, like water trickling from the branches of a naked tree... reaching through the fog... it soaks in and holds my bones. there are dreams, and i often find you there, i turn and see you stealing away with my thoughts, spilling out of your arms like fallen leaves.

she takes it all, she takes it all away. she comes over me like the scent of sunlight, her nails followed by lips, drawing maps, drawing shadows across my back,,, i feel her like an empty glass,,, you can still smell the wine// like an echo without a voice.

((she makes it all go away / and im gone))

one.sixteen.oh-eight

2008-01-16T02:01:00.001-08:00

it washes in and it washes out. it takes me and it buries me,,, beneathe the trees beneath the sea beneath the here and now and the then and there. there is no movement in your eyes, there are no sighs that take their time to trace the corners, the hills, the mountains and valleys and glaciers of my ears and and and diving into the pool of your arms through the ring i do my tricks,,, trained and fraught so well., im undone unclosed unprepared for what i say what slips and tumbles from my lips, crows on a tether. but the seasons change, but the shadows crawl, and im older and fatter and slower and less/more complicated i lie less to myself and i know (or at least hope) that when all is said and done, and my children bless their dreams before they slip with a certain ceremony into sleep that i used to enjoy,,, i hope they find a peace, i hope im not tracing the same lines, longing for the same shores, longing for the sea, longing for the limbs reaching for the surface of a black tide. you were my light, but im learning to see in the dark.

when the dawn comes on the blank ocean. will the clouds part,,, or will the rain blur the line between heaven and horizon.

northern

2007-12-26T00:10:00.001-08:00

tonights my last night in ukiah then on to san francisco.

part of me wishes i could get lost here for a little longer... and part of me worries about getting lost here a little longer. either way, i know what i want isnt here.

that wasnt cryptic at all, was it?

more photos later.

happy winter solstice :)

THE WANDERING iPHONE

2007-11-20T19:41:00.000-08:00

ive been lazy... and this is my way of catching up... and procrastinating.

the photos below represent about a month or so of iphone photos (more or less).

enjoy?

enjoy.

/ / /

LIGHTS IN THE SKY

MOTHERS, DONT LET YOUR KIDS GROW UP TO BE EDITORS.

jim pease.

THE EFFING O."MUTHA FUCKIN"C.

bastard lies in wait.

he makes the call, someone dies (kinda).

kampai!

fancies himself an artist.

the day DSLRs ruined the world.

members only jacket, foo'!

bastard at the easel.

BIRTHDAY/WINE PARTYnano

95 points, biatch (or maybe 91... i forget).

kiwi's make good wine, along with lords of rings and halos (eventually).

iSpread nano.

a little bubbly?

a little bubbly.

cheers, bastard!

makes the girls swoon and the glasses empty.

uh, halo?

no, halo MADNESS!

yes, those are back to back sucka :) we rollz DEEP (wait, what?)

not impressed :/

sexiest blue nun... e v e r.

not responsible by this point.

FLORENTINE RIBEYE... mmm.

a little before and after...

top: salt, pepper
bottom: rosemary, sage, thyme (should have been fresh...)

another little before an' after.

finish with extra virgin (yeah right) olive oil and a squeeze of lemon.

after, after.

DISNEYLAND

can you tell im related to these people?

"yes, i know youre a jerk."

the antici...pation...

terrorist.

enemy combatant.
(and with that, my blog has been flagged by the NSA, CIA, and FBI)

youre the best around...
evidently, he has just discovered "the karate kid" and the power of montage music...

75 minutes later.

oh, noes! i fergets i hates the clzed in spcez!

so, yeah, thats about a month. dont worry, if you werent in it, but know i snapped a picture of you, it doesnt mean i dont love you... well, maybe it does a little bit... OR maybe it means i love you TOO much...

xiv

2007-11-15T15:18:00.000-08:00

my hands
are trees in the fog

ON THE BRIGHTER SIDE...

2007-11-06T02:54:00.000-08:00

ive made it through 31 pages of marathon.

'bout 60 more to go in 6 days.

HA! i laugh at this deadline!

iron, iron, iron... it gets betta.

'night.

please let me have dreams of amazing sex.

those are always the best.

N I G H T M A R E

2007-11-05T18:04:00.001-08:00

i sometimes wonder where my irrational fear of death stems from... to be honest, i really dont know... but with dreams like last night -- i know its deep seeded and probably something ill never shake.

great.

(sorry, but there might be some pretty disturbing imagery here... you might want to skip this one... really.)

: : :

i find out that my brother (who's 6 years old...) has contracted a rare and very deadly disease and is dying an extremely slow and agonizing death. not only that, the disease is horrifying. the closest thing i can compare it to is leprosy... but somehow much more fucked up than that. i see him in the hospital... parts of him rotting away from the outside-in, hes barely conscious and on life support... a lucid dream of unbearable pain. i can barely take it. im trembling with tears.

then i wonder why im allowed into the room with him.

im told ive already contracted the disease. probably from the same source as him. im counseled that i have little time before the symptoms set it. im showed pictures of what will happen. rotting limbs. bloodless wounds eaten with puss. i want to scream. i want to kill my brother to save him. they wont let me. they tell me he'll pass in a day or two, that he knows nothing. his mind is nearly gone. they tell me they dont know where it comes from, but that its called sclera (this stays with me until i wake) and it claims 100 percent of the people who contract it.

i leave the room and wander through the hospital and find my room. there is a girl in there, only a little younger than myself. she has it too. shes already lost two of her legs at the thighs and one of her arms. otherwise she looks good... almost healthy... and i wonder if her and i will find love as we die in the room together.

no one is permitted to visit... but, somehow, im allowed to leave. but only once.

(i wake up at this point... and when i go back to sleep, the dream continues.)

im scouring hospital records to see how long the disease takes. i figure i have a couple of months until my skin starts to come away and about a year or two of rotting before i die.

i have to leave.

no one will see me. family, friends... i cant reach anyone. i wander around a town thats supposed to be mine, but i dont recognise anyone or anything. im pissed and wondering why... how... i want to wake up... i remember that... i want to wake up.

(i wake up for the second time... hoping that if i fall back asleep, this fucking dream will end.

it doesnt.)

im walking through the streets when i find the only person i wanted to see... to say good bye. i cant tell her whats happened to me. all i can do is cry. (i know her... and i dont know her. the face is familiar, but its no one i know in real life.) i tell her that im going to die. she laughs thinking im joking. i tell her im not. that this is it. its over.

she knows my tears are real.

she leaves and promises to come back.

i tell her she cant. i dont want to make her sick. this is it. its over.

shes gone.

im alone in the middle of an empty street, in an empty town.

and i have never felt more alone in all of my life. knowing that i am going to die alone, and in pain, and well before i have done anything with my sad and pathetic life.

: : :

i wake up for the third and final time.

i have to tell myself that it was a dream.

that im not going to die.

it was a goddamn dream.

but im not sure.

and i realise that ive never had a dream that insisted on continuing after ive woken so many times.

i want to call my mother to check on my brother.

but i know that would only feed my fear somehow.

. . .

i really dont know what the fuck is going on with me, but ive been having some pretty strange dreams lately. and some of them are just downright fucked up and disturbing. thank god some of them arent.

OUT THE WINDOW

2007-11-05T00:00:00.001-08:00

this is getting ridiculous.

i need a deadline.

ok, you got one bucko.

168 hrs.

12:00am. monday. november 12. 2007.*

4th draft of marathon COMPLETED.

(see you then, or along the way)

*yes, that could be considered sunday night to some of you chuckle heads out there.

bigSMALL

2007-10-30T22:54:00.000-07:00

i know ive said it before, but i think ive finally bitten off more than i can chew.

do i care?

no. not really.

im a mess, but hopefully, this will help me to focus in some way.

my biggest problem at the moment is that i have quite a few writing projects going on at the same time:

the self portrait of a pretentious bastard (feature) - its more or less done. probably less. i just need to find the final line of focus and go in for the kill. cut. cut. cut. its probably 20-30 pages too long at the moment and thats making it a bit confusing and pointless (as in without a point). i havent even looked at it since the last draft... ill get around to that soon.

marathon (feature) - i still havent come up with a better title, but in the next couple of days, i think itll be the closest to being "done" than anything else im working on. the biggest difference in this draft so far? ive already cut 16 pages... and its pretty much ALL from the beginning. im experimenting with starting at the second plot point. its a fricken heist film, weve all seen hundreds of heist films... we know the formula, we know the archetypes... so, im skipping as much of the set up as i can and cutting as many character introductions as i can... if it works (big if), itll be tight, frenzied, and fresh. yeah... we'll see.

sister wong (tv pilot) - still non-plussed by the title... but thats true of almost all of these... be that as it may, im really excited about the possibility and promise of this one. its a cable series margaret offered to bring me in on and shake up. im trying my best... i just dont want to drift to far from what she established since i think its so solid already. i keep tossing around "it could be the chinese sopranos". ive gone through the last draft and just received the first couple of research books in the post. got a LOT of reading to do before i even think about touching this one again... but i cant wait.

untitled end of the world project (feature) - jose and i are wondering what the hell someone would be trying to do at the end of the world. where would she go, what would she do? this shits more difficult than it sounds. good times ahead, and hopefully plenty of wine.

identity diptych: the amnesiac/the documentarian (play) - im stepping a little outside of my comfort zone here. ive been reading a lot of stoppard lately, and after seeing the showcase that caroline was in (and totally rocked)... a little inspiration has been brewing. all i know is that its two complementary pieces somehow linked... either as two separate plays... or as two parts of the same play... or something. all i know... is that the amnesiac is about a woman who is convinced by a friend (or lover, or family member... or all three) that she is an amnesiac... and the documentarian is about a man who is so obsessive in documenting every aspect of his life, that he totally loses who he is.

yeah, good luck with that one old man...

gaia (feature) - is percolating... again. but thats super secret ;)

and thats only the writing side of things.

lot of steps to change the world, whew.

* * *
ps. beware, wine party 1.o is coming very soon.

INRAINBOWS

2007-10-09T23:29:00.001-07:00

im in love all over again.

CRY BABY CRY

2007-10-09T14:01:00.000-07:00

so... this last thursday, caroline and i went over to the vista to check out julie taymor's stab at...well... essentially converting the psychedelic beatles' songs into a 2 hour plus movie.

(im sure you can tell by how i structured that sentence how i felt about the music video... errr... i mean movie)

so yeah, if you didnt know i LOVE the beatles... then you really dont know me. sorry... thats just how i roll.

anyway, after stuffing our selves in a level of gluttony hardly rivaled (even in vomitorium roman times) caroline and i sauntered on over to the vista. dont get me wrong, we knew this might be a HUGE mistake. long story short--it wasnt as bad as i feared... but not NEARLY as amazing as it should have been.*

*NOTE: the ideas and opinions expressed in this blog are the ideas and opinions of jaime ryan heintz and are of no reflection or bearing on the thoughts, ideas, and/or opinions of caroline do... or any person living and/or dead and/or real/imagined who may (or may not) have seen a movie, talked with, or been looked at by jaime ryan heintz. (cc) jaime ryan heintz 2007 some rights reserved.

i dont know if i can coherently take this film apart, but ill get to the heart of what i thought was the problem.

there was no story.

well, there was... but it was so completely trite, tired, and banal... (and a bunch of other words to make me look smart in putting it down) that i wondered why they even attempted to tell a story. i found my eyes rolling several times. its almost as if they said... its a "musical" it doesnt need to have a "complicated" story. they obviously relied too heavily on the beatles songs to really care about... well, anything. they story moments were OBVIOUS ploys to set up the next song... and dont even get me started about the character names!!! and yeah, i just imdb-ed the writers... and the last project they both did was that lame ass animated film flushed away... yeah, the one about the rats. jesus, save us all.

but my REAL beef?

well, all of the problems with the movie could have been forgiven (well, almost all of the problems) if the movie had one thing... just one...

passion.

there did not seem to be one ounce of passion or heart in almost any aspect of the film. it was FAR too over produced and lacked any true emotion or balls (balls probably being more important... sorry ladies).

the one thing that always stays with me from the beatles is their passion. every song they ever recorded drips with raw emotion. theyre strained almost to breaking. their songs are raw, produced just enough, and are never pretentious... yeah, pretty much the exact opposite of this movie.

its funny, that with most "musicals" these days, the actors that are cast are usually either "actors" or "singers." the films usually seem to suffer becasue the talent sits in one of those two camps... with either actors who cant sing, or singers who cant act. well here, it seems like the filmmakers decided to sit somewhere in the middle. the cast is comprised of neither talented actors nor talented singers.

HOW do you sing oh! darling or happines is a warm gun without screaming your fucking head off in frustrated longing?!?!?!

the songs were so thoughtlessly over produced and dripping with sacchrine voacl honey that i just wanted to tear the seats out of the theater (side note: the seats in the vista are spread way too far apart... you have to be a freakin giant to put your feet up on the row in front of you...).

maybe its just me... but if youre going to do something based around the beatles, you better know and understand your beatles... instead of just having some passing notion of them. (and i dont even want to try and think about the "revolution" or "vietnam" sequences in this film...)

wait... let me modify that. if youre going to do ANYTHING you better know and love it more than anyone else out there... you better die without it... because if you dont, youre wasting all of our time. especially with my fucking beatles.

sorry, had to get that off of my chest.

wait, no.

im not sorry.

BUT, it wasnt all bad. the dance sequences that werent awkward and/or mildly homosexually suggestive in their choreography were pretty ok (the bit for a little help from my friends = ok... the bit for i want you (she's so heavy) = not so much...). but the stand out BY FAR was eddie izzard's rendition of being for the benefit of mr. kite! just go to see the movie for that (or just download it). but its only good because of him. a nice shining diamond in a sky of tripe. mmm, tripe.

sigh... such high hopes. it really could have been worse. right? at least they didnt touch norwegian wood. thank GOD for that.

jesus, im bitter.

eh, ill go see it stoned.

SET IN MOTION

2007-09-28T00:10:00.000-07:00

ive been dying to get back to directing and i think im ready. i have two projects im gonna get off the ground.

immediately.

1. volkswagen gti spec commercial
2. the best love letter ever written (short film)

im sick of this rut and im clawing out. kcet is killing me (yet again, what a surprise) and so many things seem just on the brink. its time to take this motha-fucker in my hands.

i just watched hotel chevalier (a new short by wes anderson) as a FREE download through itunes. id link to it, but you cant since its freakin itunes... but, you can find it through the apple site. evidently, this was supposed to be "part 1" or the prologue of the darjeeling limited but fox or someone decided to cut it. if this is any indication of what that film is going to be... jesus. its the best ive ever seen any of them. them being: anderson, jason schwartzman, and natalie portman... who, by far, gives her best performance ever... ever.

anyway, i finally got through another red-pen-pass of marathon. im cutting quite a bit out of the beginning. it was just lagging and repeating itself waaaaaaay too much. im still having trouble with the ending. but, i just surrendered to the fact that im pretty much gonna have to go back to the drawing board in some sense. i have confidence i can get it right this time.

oh wait, i have to.

sleep.

'night.

(listening recommendation: shocking pinks :damn brilliant)

FAIR WARNING

2007-09-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

i was born october 22, 1980. i will be 27 on that day this year.

and if you love me (or not)...

xiii

2007-09-21T13:56:00.000-07:00

only the rain
knows the fall
and dive
of your lips
and only the hollow
of a well
knows the echo
of those words
tiny
but warm
and worn

but these hands

these hands

these
hands

are haunted by your
phantom hips
and
by the slender
of your nape

twisting
sinking
writhing

in
threads and locks
knotting these fingers
and spending this breath

SPOILS OF WAR

2007-09-09T15:52:00.001-07:00

and jaime said:

"let there be wine"

and there was.

i think dionysus would have been proud... although there was no orgy and no tearing apart of men... thank GOD. but there was a lot of food.

it was good to see friends together united over a common good... myself, wine, and... geometry wars.

as the wine flowed:

2004 muscadet by pierre luneau. nice little wine from the loire region in frace, i guess known for this type of wine (although the region supposedly has the greatest variety of grapes in france?). anyway, the freakin cork broke in half when i was opening it, but pops saved us soon-to-be-drunkards. tasty and subtle... like me.

(brought by: jose)

the toad! this was probably one of the better one-two punches of the night. a 2005 chardonnay from mendocino county (up by mom). a little buttery and sat beautifully with the snacks... my god, the snacks!

(brought by: meredith and chris... but mainly meredith)

2006 moscato d'asti. its "bug juice" by rinaldi vini... and apparently its a sparkling italian dessert wine that i thought would be ideal to serve before dinner. yes... brilliant. some people said it tasted like sprite, but i hit them upside the head. well... i should have.

(brought by: meredith and chris)

thinking to stay in italy, i slammed on the breaks and made a run for our first red of the night with one of my favorites... a 2003 bruzzico which (in this case) is a mix of cabernet sauvignon and sangiovese grapse. its subtly spicy and slips in a smooth vanilla finish. it would have been great with the steak... but im such a genius i dont care what other people consider a good progression!!! still, i love this wine.

(brought by: me)

at this point, what we drank... or, in what order gets a little hazy... not for any particular reason or anything... actually, caroline informed me that i pretty much have it all wrong after this... but im too lazy to change it now.

750ml of pure austrailian... um... wine? this 2005 little honey is a blend of shiraz, cabernet sauvignon, and merlot... and evidently got some 91 points. it was very nice and i should have made this the first red. it started small and sweet then really opened up after a couple of minutes in the glass. but i was probably too buzzed to really notice.

(brought by: meredith and chris)

i guess the bastard can make wine. this is the second bottle of a coppola wine ive had. and i gotta say... im quite impressed (backhanded enough?) i think the first i had was a merlot (which, thankfully wasnt too sweet). This 2005 claret is quite the blend: merlot, cabernet franc, malbec, and petit verdot... its a freakin ensemble. i probably should have served a wine between this and the pillar. the subtleties between the two probably would have been much more greatly appreciated... damn. fracis... go make a damn movie already!

(brought by: caroline and celestine)

well, we just called this one "the cadillac." and like most cadillacs, you either love it or hate it... or fall somewhere in between. evidently cadillacs are pretty difficult to find (supposedly only about 50 wineries in france make it)... i do know that its sweet as hell and chuck LOVED it. personally, i wasn't a big fan... but that might be more of a context issue.

(brought by: jose)

by this time, it was getting clost to around 1 or 1:30. we lost a couple of people, but most of us were still there to tumble around. somehow, the guitar made its way out (as they tend to do at parties...) and im sure the neighbors LOVED our rendition of creep. i think several neighbors swooned. but we felt we weren't drunk enough. in fact, most of us felt quite sober... but we fixed that.

i guess i felt compelled to bust out a pinot. i had just picked this one up that day on recommendation from one of my wine guys... yes... my wine guys. i reeeeaaally liked this one. it had a great color and just opened up so nicely. this 2005 from sonoma will definitely hold a spot in my collection. mmmmmm, tasty.

(busted out by: me)

at some point, not quite sure when, we stumbled into my room for my daily myspace photo, but alas, still no orgy... dionysus would not have been proud.

ive been kind of thinking when the next one should be. should this be regular? should it be a moveable wine feast? could we afford it? but how awesome and totally pretentious would we be then?

but one thing was sure, when i woke the next morning, i more or less found this:

C I R C L E S C I R C L E S C I R C L E S

2007-08-26T21:45:00.001-07:00

this weekend was entirely too short. i had a bit of a moment earlier today when i realised that i was going back to work at kcet tomorrow. its the same old same old... on one hand its great, but on the other... its not work i want to be doing. i just have to stay positive or else im gonna do my head in.

so yeah, jose and i caught the lollipop girls in hard candy on friday. honestly, i didnt know it was going to be HARDcore... i mean, it only had one x... despite being tired and seeing colors after, it was pretty damn fun.

jose and i have resolved to collaborate on something after i finish this draft of marathon. he's leaning toward sci-fi, but ill have to see what he considers "sci-fi." whatever the deal, it should be... interesting.

saturdays have a tendency of ending much too early, especially when youre in good company and/or sneaking through backyards.

lots of weird dreams lately. thats it. thats all im going into on that issue.

i need to do something. i need to direct something. im going crazy.

jane, get me off this crazy thing called... limbo (?)

H A !

2007-08-23T02:44:00.000-07:00

told ya suckas id do it.

as promuised to myself and (i guess) others, i finished the second draft of my romantic dramedy only some two years after starting it again for the third time (long story... dont ask)... suffice to say it started off as an overreaching melodrama about teen angst and drugs... yes, i was a teen when i wrote it.

now? well now its an overreaching pretentious romantic dramedy about love, lies, passion, and art. BOX OFFICE GOLD.

as you might have read earlier, i was tooling around trying to change the title.

back in the day (the teen angst days) it was called:

children don't breathe underwater

when it changed to a romantic dramedy, i appropriately dropped the "children" and kept the "underwater"... as there are several references to the ocean, being in over your head, etc, etc.

well, nine or ten years later, i was beginning to feel that it really didnt fit the tone anymore. it isnt loose or selfeffacing or absurd as the script now kinda lies...

so, the new title (with some thanks to christian) is... and no, i dont give a shit what you mutha fuckers think of it...

the self portrait of a pretentious bastard

oh well, ill probably hate it in the morning.

be that as it may, the important part is that ive finished a draft, and im actually happy with it. well, happy enough to show it to people and possibly have it represent me out there...

so, tomorrow i crack open the files again and pull out the last draft of marathon (to be retitled as well...).

until then, ill catch all y'all on the flip side.

(time for some geometry wars and bioshock, tee-hee)

-jrh

U M . . . S C O R E ? ( ! ! ! )

2007-08-19T00:44:00.001-07:00

ok, so... im just gonna start off by letting you know im tired. i really dont know why im up at the moment. well, i know why im up, but i dont know if thats the best thing for me right now... expect incoherence... like this...

jesus, im rambling.

n-e-way.

woke up dizamn early after a pretty kick ass night. lots of good friends [new and not seen in quite a while (my awesome "psychic" abilities amazed and creeped us out a few times...)], good food, and good music... and what?! ... i danced?

long story short(er); late(ish) night, early morning.

woke up at 6? no, lets be honest, 6:30 to be at margo's by 7:30 to help her clan move from silverlake to south pas. i was called in black-ops like to handle THE office. (michael, margo's husband is a photographer, and he has an office in the garage with tons of computer stuff and lots of odds and ends).

it was supposed to be pretty quick, but yeah, took the whole day. despite the heat, it was quite a bit of fun. no sunset junction... but fun (sorry, i didnt flake, i passed out when i got home for an hour and have been zombie-ing around the apartment ever since).

toward the end of packing up, margo found a box of old film critique magazines (pictured above). she cherry picked a couple and passed me about 30 kick ass issues of '50s/'60s awesomeness (more on those in other blogs... frickin' sweet).

almost right after that, michael found a box with these:

a beautiful slr minolta with three pristine prime lenses (28mm, 55mm, and 200mm) and 10-15 mixed filters. im back in motha-fuckin'-analog-business. its been almost 9 years since ive had a working FILM camera.

expect a LOT of photos from me again :)

and expect to see them here.

ok, enough dilly-dallying here, gotta do at least a couple of pages on dont breathe underwater.

good night and sweetest dreams.

-jrh

U P F O R A I R

2007-08-15T01:09:00.000-07:00

dont breathe underwater

the script's a mess.

shambles.

incoherent.

but in a good way. i feel like ive finally torn it apart enough to get at the sinew. cutting away the bullshit. this just might work if i dont over think it (if i dont over fuck it).

i think my initial problem was that i got too detailed to soon. i didnt keep it loose (as an outline/general story), and now ive had to jumble it all up and get my hands dirty. draw out a spine and ribs and hips to rest it all on (last comes the head with all the "ideas" -- "larger" metaphysical bullshit... but thats much later... kinda, always balance, ALWAYS).

im getting there. im finding my process. its in here somewhere. now that im done with the notes, i've set a deadline (for this and for marathon)

ive got to get this stuff together so i can get out there. im in the jeep and its heading for the cliff. ive got to undo these handcuffs and JUMP THE FUCK OUT.

mark it on your calendar:

august 22: dont breathe underwater draft due
august 31: marathon draft due

watched the da vinci code (2006) last night. jesus (haha), it would have been painful if it wasnt for audrey tautou and sir ian mckellen. i almost forgot how important it is to watch bad films as it is to watch good ones... but really? THAT was a huge novel? sigh... americans...

(im gonna fill in the rest of my moleskine with drawings and sketches.)

C I N E M O R T I S

2007-08-13T01:15:00.000-07:00

it turned out to be a damn good weekend. friday, i met up with jose over at the nuart to catch some godard. the more and more i see of his films, the more i think he was one of the closest to achieving true art in cinema. anyway, jose and i hit up cafe 50s right after for a little later night gorging (mmm, onion rings...). ive also started reading a biography on godard. i keep remembering that i dont know NEARLY enough about my art/craft.

saturday... well saturday was spent surrounded by dead people (or at least former people) at the hollywood forever cemetery under the tutelage and wisdom of travis bickle [note to self: not everyone (apparently) loves chocolate as much as i do...]. it was probably the most fun... no, it was the most fun ive had in a cemetery (sorry jose). it was a great night under the stars and city, but the company might have made it the best... maybe.

yeah, this definitely isnt my best passage of writing, but i am a bit tired. im gonna try and watch marie antoinette before i pass out and wake up to call back production companies in the morning... little scared about that, oh well. im an impatient bastard and i dont want to slip through the cracks.

'night.

I N L I M B O

2007-08-02T23:13:00.001-07:00

IVE finally finished putting my reel together, called all the production companies... and tomorrow... i mail em out.

im stressed.

ive been told i have a fair amount of confidence... probably more like cockiness. and i supposedly possess it in spades. even so, im more than a little worried. what if i dont get any work out of this? what if no one even calls back to tell me im a hack? was all this effort and drama for nothing? what then? what do i do?

this isnt a joke. im not angling for ego massage (i get plenty... thanks chris ;) i am seriously concerned. this kinda is my future after all...

bit of a step here.

i guess i just do what ive always kinda done. keep calm and carry on.

i still have the scripts (dont breathe underwater and marathon)... but not getting work as a director would be a bit of a set back at the moment. demoralising moments have a tendency to wear on you...

oh well. be that as it may... im working on dont breathe at the moment... well, not THIS moment... but im working on it instead of marathon, and now that ive gotten dont breathe more or less straightened out it feels... right. finally. im not sure how much longer its going to take to get it completely together, but i am making progress... and its honestly been tough. like ive said a million times, its always so hard to write about something so close to home... but finishing this is turning into a way of getting on i guess... i just hope its funny. i think it is. the best thing to do in a comedy is punish the shit out the main character isnt it? mission accomplished then :)

im watching shizukanaru ketto (the quiet duel, 1949) directed by kurosawa akira. its fucking amazing. only six years into his career and he was already producing master level works... christ. i mean, its not perfect (the premise is quite far fetched) but the story is told with such a deft hand... im simply in love with every frame. and to think that they had pretty terrible equipment in japan at the time... i really dont know how they did it. its a shame too few people have been exposed to japanese cinema (or just asian cinema in general). i mean, i have no illusions, i know i havent seen NEARLY enough... but, jesus, what ive seen so far... i cant even explain it. its just beautiful.

alright, ive gotta go fold resumes and print shipping labels. see you soon.

-jrh

ps. listen to some feist will ya?

F I R S T O P E N D O O R

2007-07-20T00:16:00.000-07:00

ive got a lot on my plate for the moment. and i wasnt aware they made plates this big.

i am jaime ryan heintz.

this is my blog.

there is no revolution here. no awakening. no insight. no fire-branding. no left, right, or middle, up or down. just rambling, rambling, rambling from a touched and scattered mind.

everything is nothing.

no.

yes.

nothing is everything.

i will attempt one thing here. to find A truth. but not THE truth... and certainly not honesty. is this a manifesto? this is a manifesto. this is something from the past for something for the future. collections from my agnosticly perceived mutable four-fold reality.

thank you.

goodbye.

hello.