So my sister says to me...

K: "So, what's the film about? A bunch of screwed up people?"

Lauren: "Well, yeah. People are screwed up."

Sacrifice:

Sacrifice has become a major theme in the film. Everyone gives up something, or is given up, or lost.
I did too.
When Lauren and I first met to discuss FLiCK we talked about the characters. The women in the film were our topic, and she gave me a gift, or a curse. A choice: which of these women will you play?
I thought about it, but not for long.
I don't think about anything for long.
I wanted Del.
So we created Del. Lauren and I brought her to life, and she brought tears to my eyes.
Del has two mommies.
She is so much me, everygirl, to think of her now still brings tears to my eyes. Her sad life; so much promise. She was a prefect role. I knew I could play her.

But not perfectly.

And then my friend Cyd told me she was moving home from LA. She is younger, more...something. She will be perfect. So Lauren and I talked it over and we offered her the part. She accepted.
I feel like a mommy who gave her baby away to a perfect home. I miss her, but I know she is in good hands.

And then came Jade.

Stay tuned.....

Everyone DOES want to be famous...

Don't ever tell anyone that you're making a film.

Not even your friends.

ego: So, Lauren, what's been new.

me: I've been writing.

ego: Oh, whatcha workin' on?

me: I've been working on it a long time (crossing fingers, wincing, saving energy for the writing, not the talking part)

ego: What kind of work? are you a poet or an essayist?

me: (whimper) it's a short film.

ego: REALLY!?!?!? Could you write me a part!! ---or--- CAN I BE IN IT!!!????

me: ugh.

or

me: (more appropriately) I'm so grateful for your enthusiasm. Thank you for your support, here's my card, check the site. we'll be in touch.
ciao baby.


I'm just laughing about this, because I really find in my generation and the younger ones, we grew up worshipping television and film, so now, as adults or individual thinkers, we want nothing more than to be in the box, to be on that screen, to have our name in lights. This isn't just a 1 in a million thing, this is a secret desire of the masses.

I've noticed this.

Even in myself.

Fortunately, I have the rationality to know that it is DANGEROUS to be famous nowadays. I feel sad for all those poor saps at the front of the grocery check out, Angelina, Paris, all these one namers that are worshipped.

I wish fucking people would focus on our politicians and power position people, rather than the celebrities used as a distraction for the masses (do you remember Animal Farm? When the supremicist pigs bring in a television to mesmerize the masses of the other farm animals??)

I'm off topic here. It's dangerous to be famous. That's all I'm saying. Let's just use our skills to make a difference in this illusory world.

Much love, people. I hope I didn't offend anyone. I just kid. But I can't tell you HOW MANY people start posing when they get in front of me nowadays.

kissy myspace faces and sending me photos and resumes of their junior high acting highlight.

Rock out everybody. I'll make sure to stain the new 42 page unfinished with lots of red wine while i'm out of the state.

"what's the good word?"

What's ridiculous is this: that so close to a basic completion of the new screenplay, swimming through piles of notes and copies ripped apart by red and black and blue ink, a bruised by accusations driven by mind and fingertips; the fallen original script, a field of shredded character sketches, tiny notebooks with scrawlings of the words of strangers...

All this work, and here I am heading off to California.

My sister is being given a car on the condition that someone "come pick it up." That entails a volunteer (moi) and the desirer (K) and now, we fly to San Francisco and drive back acrossed the country.

Rumination, Contemplation, Numb asses and legs, fatigue, irritability, the desert, the mountains. Inspiration. Intrigue. Strangers. Trust.

I'm driving acrossed America with Flick.

I feel that this could be it's last travel in paper form.

Yet, I know it will keep travelling in all of the new forms it's acquired.

I love Flick.

The word is being spread.

Ukweli Haunting

As all of this unfolds before me, I can't stop thinking of Ukweli.

She was one of the key ingredients that shaped "Flick" into it's form now.

A thread, a "magical girl" as Roy Fisher called her, that links the whole story.

Is it the girl? Is it the lighter? that causes the change...?

are they one and the same?


Ukweli is what I believe all of humanity aspires to be or become, yet, all or most are too lazy to implement the transformation.
Including myself.

She is like soul, like truth and genuine human goodness personified.

She is disciplined, yet free.
Free, but responsible
Responsible. But Silly.


I see her dignified, blunt yet gentle.
Radical but natural.
Intuitive but rational.

In the world, but not of this world.

I can't call her my alter ego.
Most writers take on a character to vicariously lead a life that is not quite fitting to their lifestyle.
For me, that would be more of a gothic party chick rockstar freak. (kidding, but not).

Ukweli seems more like an entity that floats above all life... a guiding voice.
A star to follow.
A presence and force that speaks to us where we aren't often willing to listen.

I look in the mirror, and sometimes I see her in my eyes.

With the knowledge that I will be playing this character out in the film's reality,
I attempt to be the warrior that she is, and find myself having to forgive myself for not be ready to live up to Ukweli's light.

She is a path many are unwilling to follow.

I am getting her hair threaded into mine at the end of this month, July, by serendipitious and artistic motives.

Ukweli haunts me, as she will to those willing to allow her, once she's manifested.

Blondies Rules. Especially Kristen....

So, after a most productive meeting with my personal assistant. scratch that, personal muse, Nicole Schafer, I made a leap of faith down to Blondies Salon on Ingersoll Av.

Wearing the same clothes I slept in, carrying a back pack, a notebook, a cell phone and a few bent business cards, I wandered in an approached a very innocent and sweet blond at the front desk.

Hi, I'm Lauren, I'm a writer, I'm scheduled for a consult with Kristen. But I haven't set up an appointment, and I have a few details to discuss.

Something to that affect. I can be quite charming, even after removing yesterday's underwear the morning after and breaching commando mode early saturday morning.

I meet Kristen VanHauen, the hero-hair dresser of my darling friend Kelli Jo Sweeney whom gets her hair done religiously by the young Kristen.

She askes me to wait a few minutes while she "finishes up" a client. I sit in one of the swivel styling chairs and proceed to do just that... swivel, and make a few 'important" phone calls and receive a few, while taking notes, and using my best "grown up voice" in the salon.

(this is all in jest, i hope you sense the wit here)

Kristen asks me to sit down, and I say, no no, let's sit, i'd like to look at you in the eye.

I explain my case. Lauren. Writer. Film. Poor. Acting. Need hair. Character. Ukweli. Dreadlocks. Extensions. Credit. Did I mention you could be in the film. Credit. Broke. Help?

She throws her hands up... she's learned a technique for synthetic dreadlocks (which I'd like my character Ukweli to possess) but she has yet to work on a real human head.... she whispers, I don't think Des Moines has caught on yet.

She says if I purchase the hair, she'll do the work (typically 50 bucks an hour, about 6 hours for this hair-duty) FREE.

This woman became the apple of my eye for July.

Blondies Hair Studio. July the 30th. Ukweli's hair manifests.

Blessings to Kristen Vanhauen, may she rock out in every thread of hair.

THANK YOU

Kidneys and Dreams

So, A LOT serendiptiously has been occurring.

A hotel room, rented exceedingly cheaply downtown was manifested for this just-past Thursday and Friday-- the twelth and, dududduh, Friday the thirteenth. I had the full intention of locking myself up in a room and writing. Writing writing until I was finished, even if it took three days, I would get my writing done.

Tuesday, I had the chills, followed by an accupuncture appointment with a Chinese Woman telling me to avoild oral sex... either way.

Interesting.

Then, the illness gets worse, there's ache and pain all over my body. My chiropractor adjusts me in every direction, nearly to tears, this pain was... I cross my fingers that with enough fluids, enough vitamins and bathroom breaks, that by Thursday, i'd be ready.

This was no the reality.

I ended up under doctor's care Thursday.

I spent a lot of my energy crying. Not just over the unidentifiable and crippling pain under my left side of my ribcage. I was disappointed in myself. I sat there seeking a reason WHY if EVERYTHING has been strictly smooth recently, why do i have to bask in the re-emersion of my past ailments..... an infant's reflux and chronic kidney infections arise as a young woman.

FUCK.

I cried for Flick. Wasted time. I cried because I have so much more I want to work on.... that i'm pressing myself for time.... that the characters have grown from kindergarten to gradeschool to being rebellious and angst teenagers in just over a month.

That the story gets deeper and deeper the more the characters unfold themselves to me.... the more the truth becomes apparent.

I shake off this illness, the dizzy spells, the weak knees... the being in my apartment for 4 days without hardly leaving....

I welcome creativity. I welcome productivity. I will rest until I am better, and I expect only time shall alot what energies are spent running through my fingertips and mind, creating a story.

I've been building the structure, the frame. the part where you draw the dots, then connect the little bastards.

This is where you glue and unglue your head and your characters and your scenes... often being a painful or absurd process due to the nature of the game....

I'm playing with the intangible.

Thank you to Grant Monohon for support....

Thank you to Miss Nicole Rae Schafer, the love of my life for backing me no matter what the consequence.

To G Thomas, for patience.

To Joshua Boyd, for the same... waiting on character sketches and whatnot.

To Megs West, for being my relentless cheerleader.

To my love, for letting me break down without fear i would break.

GRATITUDE.

beat me for not clicking "enter"

I asked a friend of mine... I said, I don't know about this "blogging" business. It seems so radically informal,
sort of like a sheep herder ranting at the stars and no one really being attentive of even responsive.
They just muddle under their breath "crazy sheep herder."

I told him that i find myself ranting at the computer, and just due to want for protection, I never publish the damned posts.

He said, that's exactly what blogging is; just hit "enter" next time.

I promise to be less neglectful people. I just am terrified to expend my energy on a blog rather than a project.