terrence

Terrence and Lisa, arrived in Berkeley two days before his job interview with the school's personnel director. The interview was more of a formality than anything else; Terrence had been assured that the job was his. He and his wife had already been given moving expenses and had been encouraged to transfer as soon as possible.

It was after dark when their taxi pulled up to the hotel. Terrence and Lisa had only the opportunity to see the city under cover of darkness - a lamplit, twinkling negative of itself. Even in the darkness Terrence could see the city's vibrance, "or is that just my own nervous energy," he thought to himself.

The hotel was posh. The doorman, opening the taxi door seemed to know Terrence and his 'situation'. Without needing to check in, Terrence and Lisa were whisked up to their room - a trail of servants dealing with luggage and other trivialities.

Terrence and Lisa were too tired and excited

*** all wrong, start over ***

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Terrence woke at daybreak, having slept only a couple of hours at the overcrowded urban campsite. He tried not to shuffle around and wake up his wife, Lisa.

Terrence and Lisa were at their final pause, only a few miles from their destination. Terrence had finally been given the opportunity to work in his chosen field - at UC Berkeley - making real money. He had already been promised the job, but as a formality he was to meet with the school's artistic director at today at 10AM. Lisa planned to spend the morning checking out the campus life and their new apartment.

Lisa sat partially up and out of the shared sleeping bag, yawned and gave Terrence a sleepy "hi".

"You can't sleep either?" Terrence asked.

"Too excited," Lisa said groggily, "lets go check it out."

Terrence and Lisa had the tent dismantled and in the back of the dilapidated hatchback within minutes. They had been given plenty of practice camping over the last few meager years, and had been given a not-so-pleasant refresher course during the rain-soaked trip down from Washington State.

add

Because it was 6:30 in the morning, finding a parking space near the school was less of a challenge than they had anticipated. Neither spoke walking the few blocks from the car to the university campus.

As they walked down Telegraph Street, Terrence had an unpleasant sensation. Terrence felt something was wrong. The sensation grew stronger as they approached the campus. Terrence had the ability to 'sense' when something is wrong, often before others began to notice. This 'gift' had often helped him in his work.

Preoccupied with his feeling of dread, Terrence nearly walked straight into a short, old man. The old man, reeking of wine, was himself breaking camp for the morning, shaking the sidewalk filth off his single blanket. Terrence, in the confusion, over-apologized to the old man which confused the swaggering drunk more than anything else.

The commotion drew the attention of another apparent street dweller, a very tall man, in his early thirties, wearing a large black t-shirt. Had the man not been tall and broad the black t-shirt would not have been able to contain the over-sized, white, Ariel font words printed on the front, 'F*** THE POLICE'. The tall man eyed Terrence and Lisa suspiciously then spat a wad of discolored phlegm onto the pavement.

Terrence and Lisa walked on, looking for something cheap to stave off the morning's hunger.

Terrence's apprehension grew - he had learned to trust this sense of doom - he knew that it was often triggered by some minute detail which others seemed to overlook. -- "It is a sound," he said to himself.

Terrence nearly collided with another person. This time, a young student heading in the opposite direction - texting with one hand, a bagel in the other. Part of the bagel's delicious looking contents fell to the ground as the girl lurched to one side without losing her pace, cursing at Terrence, or the bagel, or the phone, or all three at once.

"Or perhaps the absence of a sound," thought Terrence. -- "Yes, that's it," he said to himself:

Beneath the street people, mumbling at the encroaching day, beneath the street vendors and shop owners, clattering and unfurling their wares, a sound was missing. Terrence realized that he could not hear the sound his shoes should be making against the hard cement sidewalk. The sound of his walking was as muffled as if he were walking on wet grass.

Terrence gave attention to the sidewalk to see why: The cement was worn and discolored as he expected, but instead of it being pocked and uneven, all the holes and unevenness had been filled in. The surface of the sidewalk had been smoothed and softened by years of filth and grime. The congealed filth had been smoothed and compressed by an endless number of people, leaving countless footprints, until this thick layer of phlegm, discarded food, flesh and excrement had become the surface upon which these people now existed.

Terrence slowed down and stopped. Lisa followed suit.

As Terrence looked once again at the ground, Lisa took his arm into her own and held him closer.

"What do you want to do?" Lisa asked.

"I want to go home," replied Terrence.

squash tendril earrings

Making a prosthetic for a simple pair or earrings and realized that I need even smaller drill bits (I was using a size 70-something.)

I preserved a squash tendril from last year and am trying to make earrings from the mold. I had to make an opposing loop on the top end as a bail for the ear hooks.

dust bunny freaks out again

"Why are your lines not straight?" asked the titmouse, looking over Dustbunny's shoulder.

"Because... Well, because...," replied the confused Dustbunny, unable to think of anything else to say.

And thus returned - in the center of Dustbunny - doubt and apprehension.

from Dust Bunny Has a Freakout - Marcus' Collection of Fractured Tales For Kids

tamara 2

(Tamara sits in chair beside window, draped in towel, posing. Jeremy hunches over, painting large canvas laying on floor.)

Tamara: "Are you saying you faked being crazy just to have a place to stay?"
Jeremy: "I don't think so. Probably not in the way you are thinking, anyway. I am just saying it was my occupation. I was being paid...well at least housed and fed in return. At some point I chose - if that is the correct word for it - to do something else for a living."

(Jeremy gets up walks over to Tamara and adjusts her pose to have her head looking upwards and to the side. Leaves blue and yellow streaks on her face.)

Jeremy: "For a long time after that I just roamed around looking for something else I was good at. (pause, returns to canvas) Perhaps in the same way I 'chose' crazy, I was pulled or chosen back. People now pay for my nightmares. Still-lifes of it. Better pay, actually. Maybe I'm getting better at my calling. Or I found a more upscale clientele than the state."
Tamara: "Or just crazier."
Jeremy: "Probably so. (gets up and readjusts Tamara's head) Now my sweet, pale nightmare, if you would stop looking out the window and fidgeting."

dissolve is done

Dissolve was intended to be a test study based on a favorite piece of music, however it became a victim or being born in the wrong place at the right time. This one came from a dark place - an unsustainable, frightening place.

Still not pleasant to work with this one, but if it sells, it will gradually become a part of the enhanced white noise of the shop.

tamara

(Tamara, back turned to Jeremy is washing dishes. Jeremy, sitting on couch, hears cellphone ringing, looks and sees that it is his cousin Becky. Answers)

Jeremy: "hi"
Becky: "Hi yourself. (Coyly) So how are you getting along over there?"
Jeremy: "We're OK"
Becky: "We're OK, are we? (pause) You're something else. So you pretty much like Southern girls once you get over that initial fight-upon-meeting thing you do, huh?"
(silence)
Becky: "Are you ready to get back to reality? You know, you only have a couple of days left and you still haven't seen your Mom."
Jeremy: "Yeah, can you come pick me up?"
Becky: "Say hi to 'Little-Miss-Book-Signing-Assistant for me."

(Jeremy closes phone. Looks over and sees Tamara has stopped washing dishes and appears to be crying, he walks over and silently holds her from behind.)


***last scene with Tamara here



(Jeremy comes out of Tamara's house. Old squeaking screen door opens, then closes hard against door spring. Jeremy gets in car, avoids looking at Becky. Looks out car door, back at screen door of house, fiddling with handle.)


Becky: "Are you OK?"
(silence)
Becky: "Is Tamara OK?"
Jeremy: "I shouldn't have come back."
Becky: "I'm sorry."
Jeremy: "Everything is so thick here. The air. The people. My past. It's like I'm re-living it with different characters. (pause) And everything smells like barbecue."
(Becky smiles)
Jeremy: "At home, none of this matters. As long as you do your job, laugh at the right time, at the right jokes. (pause) It's much... thinner."
(Becky looks and finds gum in purse.)
Becky: "I hate to bring this up, but do you feel like going over and seeing your Mom right quick?"
Jeremy: "Ughhh..."
(Jeremy flips his head back against headrest. Stares at car hood.)
Becky: "Look, I tell you what. I have some friends at work throwing a picnic this afternoon - they're as plastic as anybody your bound to meet up North - let's swing by your Moms place, get all the hugs out of the way, then I'll take you over there, OK?"
Jeremy: (hesitates) "OK"
Becky: (makes face) "First I'm going to get you a bath - you don't smell like barbecue."
(Becky starts engine.)

europa film treasures

Maman Colibri
1929
Director: Julien DUVIVIER

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Any film history buffs here?
If so, do not, I repeat, do not click on this link to europafilmtreasures.eu if you have any pressing work to finish.
I can see a large portion of my life disappearing there.
I will put a permanent link to site on links page later.