Lost thoughts on a day in March

There are memories happening around here; thoughts, they do come and go—as clouds in the air.

Sometimes, when it’s quiet at night, I like to think about things that haven’t happened yet, until I fall asleep.

I remember as a very young kid, the thought of heaven lasting for an eternity used to keep me up at night. No one really seemed to understand just exactly what I was trying to get at regarding the horror behind this concept. Everyone I asked, I would keep on persisting the question—something along the lines of, “If heaven lasts forever, what happens after that? Are we just stuck there and that’s it?” and because I was so insatiated with any explanation given to me (or lack thereof), it took me some time before I could come to grips that if what I learned about our creator’s terms were true, then at some point, I would just have to ask them myself whenever I would invariably get there.

Something intangibly related, but a few times throughout the course of my life while watching old films, I’d occasionally think about the possibility of what if that whom/what/where we’re watching on any given medium, that whatever captured within this moment of time were to be encapsulated forever as sort of like, quasi-quantum snapshot in time—like, everything in those frames are eternally living within their own world, without “our” (the audience/viewer’s) collective observance, i.e. Observer effect phenomena. To put it less woo-woo: that the people we are watching, a part of their souls/likenesses and/or consciousnesses are virtually existent into each and every tiny world that they are reproduced on any given medium, like to this day, Sidney Poitier lives on (or at-least, a piece of him) in whatever copy one has of him inside your Blu-ray, DVD, VHS, etc. Totally out there, I know, and not exactly the type of thing I stroke my chin at and pat myself on the back for, though nonetheless…something that’s crossed my mind.

Ever have a dream that feels so real, vivid, and after you wake up you find you can’t remember it, not even in the slightest? Most of the time, if I don’t write down or talk about my dreams as soon as I wake up, I forget them like they never happened. David Lynch spoke of a concept related to this, about how our subconsciousness is a vast ocean of ideas that we essentially “fish” for through dreamwork and meditation, so we can utilize these deeply profound yet arcane, esoteric images in our work. I think this a beautiful idea that carries with me through the present day.

When writing dialogue, I’m personally a fan of incorporating vocal disfluencies (aka “filler words,” interjections like ‘um’ or ‘er’, etc.) to mimic/stratify what I infer as the idiosyncratic nature of how people often communicate to each other. Anecdotally, I’ve noticed that even the most affluent or well-educated people tend to use these to some degree in-lieu of silence. I’m also a big fan of the way common parlance and colloquialisms seem to come out unconsciously when people talk in informal settings—little artifacts of culture and language that go undetected throughout the course of conversations, such as “standing on-line” rather than in, or in the case of everyday idioms being subtly altered like “be that as it may” to “being that as it may,” or how sometimes “in and of itself” gets shortened to “in of-itself,” etc.

In 1967, linguist Dmitri Borgmann once wrote that “Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo” is a complete sentence. For some reason, I still randomly think about this after being told of it years ago.

Similarly, though in a different vein and context, one of my favorite (random) quotes that springs to mind is a line from Gertrude Stein’s 1913 poem, Sacred Emily: “Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.”

There’s a couple pages in one of my journals entirely dedicated to as-of-yet assembled band names, brands, movie titles or random pieces of dialogue that are left unhoused. To give you an example of this, there’s a line I recently wrote that has absolutely zero context or connection to any piece of work I have, but I liked it enough to jot down: Person A) “Small world, huh?”—Person B) “Yeah, small world, big problems.”

If I had a million dollars that could go to a purely indulgent expense, I think I might be able to spend it (or a good portion of) on shoes, obsolete consumer tech, posters, memorabilia and the curio of yesteryear.

Every now and then, more so lately, I find myself randomly reminiscing about some of these things that I’ve seen, read, listened to and/or played (at any given moment): Twin Peaks, Silent Hill series, Daydream Nation, Tu Cárcel by Los Bukis, Carnival of Souls, A Hundred Years of Solitude, Rosemary’s Baby, Open Arms by Tracy Chapman, Before Sunrise/Sunset, Death Stranding, Emerica’s Stay Gold, Kiki’s Delivery Service, À bout de souffle (Breathless), Final Fantasy VII (2020), A Dedication by Washed Out, Gilmore Girls, assorted 1980’s/1990’s rom-com’s and…too many others that I can’t think of right now off the top of my head.

Regarding the subject of Before Sunrise—having rewatched it recently, these two strangely beautiful lines as spoken by Celine (Julie Deply):

“I think it's because I always have this strange feeling...that I'm this very old woman laying down, about to die. You know, that my life is just...her memories or something.”

“I believe if there's any kind of g-d it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but…just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but, who cares, really? The answer must be in the attempt.”

Speaking of falling in-love, when I really fall for a show, there will forever be the nerdiest of parts in me which always creates a self-insert character, partially as a creative exercise, though mostly for fun and in my mind. Without going further into detail, I can abjectly say that for every favorite show of mine, there lies a rough sketch/amalgamation of someone whom I’d imagine would be interesting to weave into the story.

On that note, my favorite fictional characters tend to be underdogs whom hail from no acclaim or renown, and are neither “special” nor “chosen” in some way, but are the regular, average Jane’s and John Does as opposed to such common tropes as “the last of their lineage,” or “chosen by fate.” For instance, some of my favorite examples of the regular-folks-whom-just-so-happen-rise-to-the-occasion-and-are-not-explicitly-“special”-characters are: Ripley from Alien, Laurie from Halloween, (arguably) Jyn Erso from Rogue One or aka, The John McClane archetype. To some degree, I might as well probably group closely by-association Lupin from Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro, if-not for his over-the-top prowess and gadgets, yet what I infer as his characterization fits within this realm, at-least aesthetically speaking.

Tangentially-related, still finishing my first run-through of Baldur’s Gate 3, I went with a Rogue character and Thief sub-class, attempting my best at recreating something similar to the aforementioned archetype above. My decisions have mostly geared towards a Neutral-Neutral-Good, with the occasional outlying decision here and there when the situation calls for it. Initially, Astarion was going to be the focus of my fictional character’s romance (referred to as “The Nameless Rogue”), however upon doing so before meeting red-devil-babe Karlach, I quickly reversed that decision and ended up reloading a previous save—the results of which I might add were, yay. At some point when there’s more time I’ll probably have another playthrough with an evil character, but I’m taking in the journey as slowly as possible and trying to savor every minute. It’s hasn’t been since Mass Effect 2 that I’ve felt such a strong kinship and attachment to my fictional ragtag entourage. Can’t recommend enough.

Whenever I read of the tragedies and horrors currently happening throughout our world, it feels like a part of my heart dies, like the rose petals in Beauty & The Beast. I’m not sure if there will ever be a remedy for this, even when I have taken (and continue to do my part of) demonstrable action(s), but…I thought I should mention it.

Currently, I’m still reworking/editing/drafting/completing the Saturday Mornings Forever interquel, The Diary of Laura Carpenter. So far, I’m pretty content with the 1st Act being more or less complete, however I feel like there might yet still be a long ways before it’s ready. After having this book in the oven for about three-ish years, it’s been a labor of love that’s gone through quite a few drafts and edits. The hardest part of this book has been finding its ‘voice’ per se, though I think I’ve ultimately found the proverbial vein after much searching. Very excited to be releasing this as soon as it’s done, but I have no clue yet as to when.

Lastly, I’ve been semi-secretly posting pictures of jellyfish on an undisclosed Tumblr account. Although this is verifiably non-important, do with this information as you will.

Hugs & hearts to you out there, whomever’s reading <3

-A.M.