I plan to do at least one more film with Wesley. My idea for the next film is me caving into the modern Hollywood standard. Instead of making yet another erudite art film, I am going to make movie about a coke dealer and an undercover cop. Either me or Wesley will be either the coke dealer or the undercover cop.
I will go to a toy store and get some fake guns. The thing is not to film with fake guns around anywhere that the Police might be. If they see people skulking around with fake guns and meanwhile the director is saying, Run around outside that store with the fake guns like you are about to rob the place. We will do the interior shots later. I will be across the street and doing a zoom shot. Well, shit like that is an example of what NOT to do when filming.
The Greyhound bus can or can not have something to do with it. That would be nice, the narrator buzzing on about how the coke dealer is coming into a small town wanting to flip a bag of coke. The cocaine will be bag of Robin Hood flour in a ziploc baggie. The coke dealer arrives at the bus stop. Meanwhile the undercover cop is already waiting there because somehow he knew that the coke dealer would arrive. How? Well that is what I am going to have to figure out in the next few weeks. Know that this story of the black guy getting a conscription letter was one that I had to turn over in my mind over the last few weeks. Over the next few weeks, I will have to think about the details about the next story. I should try to see if I could get Robert Portman and anyone else involved with the project too. Intro, coke dealer, and undercover cop. Plot advances: The dealer makes a few deals at the bar. The undercover cop watches. Climax: A gunfight. The undercover cops shots the coke dealer. Like Miami Vice. Filmed very quickly and discreetly. I work fast. The entire video of Drafted, the principal photography was completed in less than an hour. Resolution: The streets of this town is awash in crime. It is up to the vigilance of the Drug Squad to keep dangerous drugs like cocaine off the streets.
This could only ever be called martial arts inspired because anyone who actually tries to use these moves in an actual streetfight will be in real trouble. After years of being weaned on MA movies, monkey see monkey do, or else monkey style see monkey style do.
This is just a dance. A lot of dances use high kicks like the Irish riverdance, and also the old can can that the Alaska Yukon girls used to do.
These kicks are shoddy. I didn't even do stretching exercises before this, and wearing blue jeans.
....not bad for someone who is pushing 40.
These are not real martial arts moves. These are dance moves and also moves that could be used to resemble martial arts in the movies. Martial arts is a kind of Bertoldt Brechtian distancing device.
On a show named Breaking Bad, Walter White is a chemistry teacher who cooks up drugs in his spare time to supplement his income.
In this town named Dawson Creek, Walter Wright was a pioneer. And in this town, there is a theme park named after him.
In this village, there is old fashioned splendour in the form of rustic picturesque buildings which line the promenade. The wooden sidewalks which line this street of buildings from the 1800s brings to mind scenes from a lot of Westerns.
Original old buildings from the period have been transported here so that this theme park can transport people back in time to a much simpler and less electronic era. Some Churches, a fire hall, a blacksmith shop, and an old time school are amongst the architecture that is featured here.
It was snowing on this particular day, however this weather is quite beautiful and does add a kind of effect to enhance this documentary.
The Walter Wright Pioneer Village will be open for visitors for this year's summer tourist season.
Before I go on, the next film project will be megaprojects. I am planning to do films that are at least an hour in length. When the chapters are all done and strung together for the final result along with the credits, and any musical segments, the result can be quite spectacular and amazing.
"There is no such thing as a finished film. There are only just projects walked away from." George Lucas
I decided to abandon Ape and Essence for the topic was too dark and I did not want to dwell on such dark topics for the necessary few days or weeks required to do a one hour cartoon.
The projects I am going to do are, Animal Farm; George Orwell, A Simple Plan; Scott Smith. Cartoons at least an hour in length, possibly two hours. This will take weeks but when it is finished, it will be something.
During those times, I can pay the $10 a month to upload videos onto megavideo which would accept videos that are an hour or more in length, and vimeo and CWEBtv. I would upload them onto YouTube only in chapters, and only the spoken narrated segments, and not any segments that include music. Any music clips uploaded onto YouTube are done on a presumed basis that YouTube will remove the audio completely for the entire video, including spoken parts and other music.
The next cartoon, which will be at least an hour long, will not appear for weeks, maybe even a couple of months, but that is usual. A Hollywood director like Steven Spielberg would do a two hour movie, and he would typically take months, maybe even a couple of years. People are used to that. A film short of a few minutes every couple of days, that's just not the same in scope and grandeur as a one and a half hour movie every couple of months. A movie every couple of days?! With some two hour Hollywood movie projects, a couple of days is spent in just travelling to the set location alone! Which is what I am doing. When it starts out, it seems not very developed or evolved, but once the movie starts getting some legs.... the mid point is the most satisfying of all. When one is fully into the flow. The last part is just knowing that there is just a few strokes left. That's all. A bittersweet moment. Then back to the primeval nebulous uncertain point of being at the unevolved start of the next film project.
At Main and Hastings outside Carnegie, someone, Lee Donahue needs to ride the bus to Granville. Why don't we walk to the bus stop outside where you actually live, outside the Four Sisters Social Housing CoOp there is a bus stop. He says, no we can ride the bus from Main and Hastings here, that will take us to Granville Street.
At Granville Street, walking South, at Granville and Dunsmuir, the road is blocked, construction wood horses blocking the road. A makeshift wood fence. Lying laterally, running from East to West, is a brown, rusted steel path. Road severely under construction. I walk along this rusted steel path going West and just into the department store, The Bay. I think, "If I ride the 8:30 Greyhound bus back to Dawson Creek, I can get there in time for work tomorrow. But it has to be the 8:30 in the evening bus, because if I ride the 8:30 in the morning bus, that would not work, but maybe in the dreamworld, I could perhaps get away with riding the 8:30 Greyhound bus in the morning from Vancouver to Dawson Creek."
Watching a movie at a movie theatre. The others in the audience, I am thinking, "They will be watching an animated cartoon with a cartoon animator present, me.!"
Later, I remember getting ready to board a plane, and then later, actually boarding this small plane getting ready for another trip to Vancouver. A girl who was with me earlier in the movie theatre is there already on the plane. I get on and sit in the second row, in the centre. The girl is sitting to my right. Then all of a sudden to my left, a Mexican guy just sits besides me. I can feel his shoulders next to mine, he is a big Mexican, wearing a puffy black jacket and a big mane of black hair, seen only from the back.
Southwest corner of 108th Ave and 13th Street in Dawson Creek. I look out the front of the window. Country roads, a yellow grain colour predominately colours the landscape. In the distance, driving from right to left, is a truck, Wright's Food Service, and when I look, I see Denny, the truck driver. It is actually Denny!
At Vancouver, I start walking. I go to a Library. At the Library, I see a barebreasted Librarian, reddish brown hair, young beautiful, with small perky tits, so perky, they were conical. Nice round red nipple and wearing yellow shorts.
I wonder whether I should leave so soon since I just got here. At the Southwest corner of Carrall and Cordova. Sensing that it is about 4:20 pm then, and that just a couple hours later, at 8:30 pm, the Greyhound Bus leaves. I lamented the quickness of the trip arriving to Vancouver, resenting the much longer and much more grueling return trip on the bus ahead.
I am in my hotel room at Main and Hastings, watching porn.
I wonder if I should walk on the beach, Portside Park beach, since I have just so much time in Vancouver, which is not much.
At a high school walking down the hall. I see a red haired girl teenage student, long red hair wearing blue-grey sweatshirt. "The last time I was here, these people were in grade 9. Now they are in grade 12. Oh well, that's normal."
Walk into the last classroom down the hall, on the right. In the classroom. I say hello to Laureena, telling her this is the last time I will ever see her. I say hello to Selena too.
Then into a downstairs urinal I was at before. I had some money with me. There are two people already there. A guy who said he was from El Salvador at the toilet stall to my right, and another guy, a janitor, behind me, but right outside the toilet stall I was at. When I leave the El Salvador guy asks me for my money. I tell him to fuck off and run outside. There is another guy, Native, pockmarked face, black shaker knit sweater, he asks me for money. He has big hands. He pushes me backwards. We fall on the streets, and fight. I push his hands, holding a gun towards him. I push his hands, his hands are losing the gun is pointed upside down at himself and the gun goes off and he shoots himself in the head!!
Walking up a hill with some friends. Walking uphill but looking downhill a car races fast downhill. Car accident. Then a police car with flashing blue and red lights races downhill after that car. On top of the hill a friend crosses the street. Boing from SE to NE corner of the street. No its not that way.
A friend finds a toy model truck, only the back part, a rectangular piece of plastic, hollow, painted white, blue stripe and then red stripe bordering it. And there is a small black switch. The truck is going whoo whoo whoo, a police siren sound as it is a toy model of a police truck. And as my friend flicks the small black switch to the side, the whoo whoo whoo sounds turn off.
At a Vietnamese Sunday Church service. Narrator narrates "Vince, the long lost son who spent years in a group home is present. The mother who was missing for 30 years is here. And the adoptive mother is here as ever." All of these are Oriental people.
Driving down a street, resembling Prior St going West. I Narrate, "I have been here before, on a trip up North to Prince River. Prince Rupert was close to this very small settlement. The houses which the White people live in are painted white and the houses that the Natives live in are painted blue. There are also some brown, natural wood coloured houses, square natural wood tiled houses. In the North the houses all wind up looking like this as this kind of architecture is really common up here."
Dream Saturday June 6, 2009
I was at a room where there was my father's deathbed. A hospital room. A nurse is there. I am at the foot of the bed. I could not see my father, he is lying down flat. A nurse is at his right side looking at him. Dark haired, Oriental nurse. Young.
I speak to him, "Dad, I love you." He sat up, as if he was using an adjustable bed. His face was red and bloated. He did not look good. He said, "This is the last time you will ever see me." He turned over to the left.
I said, "Dad, recline on your right side! The Buddha, the Tibetan Book of the Dead says to recline on your right side!" He rolled over to the right side, and said, audibly, "Thank you."
A Skunk. I get a skunk in a wire metal cage also two guinea pigs a male and a female. Later under the blankets, I look for the animals. The cages are together. The male skunk has bitten the male guinea pig in the guts. Messy, splotchy purply round blood stains on the guinea pigs belly. The skunk is about disembowelled, I see light green gelatinous guts with curls. The female is standing off to the side, as if it, being a female was simply above doing something like that. I decide to release the skunk. I look in the room, oh no the skunk cage has teleported to just the right of the door and has the wire cage meshdoor open. I open the door of my room and go into the hall. The skunk follows me out. I go out through the back door. I release the skunk out side.The skunk chases me, I feel it's front paws at the back of my pants as it is in a standing position, pawing at me. I fly back up onto the railing and into my room. I look out the window, people in an alley. "A skunk!" "It's there under the truck." another person says.
I fly around. I was at a place with some Chinese people there. All kinds of people I explain about the skunk. My Philippines coworker Case and his European girlfriend are there. They say that they need to spend the night. This was the party to celebrate my first night in living in a two bedroom apartment. I feel uncomfortable. Some Chinese ladies say that I am old and that I smell, although this reminds me of a line from Stanley Kubrick's Killer's Kiss.
I fly out of there to somewhere else. Up the street. Flying, laughing. The I remember to go back there and ask about something, probably the skunk. I go back to that area. I ask someone "Where is the strange Church?"
At one point, a dog chases me. I thought of the skunk. I fly up a small hill. On top of the hill behind a cement fencepost and a chainlink fence that guards an alley between two houses. I see the dog run up the hill and leap onto the fencepost. I fly backwards and I see that the dog can fly too! As it flies at me!
At an apartment room. My apartment room. Different. Along Fir and 11th in Vancouver. I look out the window. To the Southeast was a large brick apartment building, corner building. On the North side, two large windows, two of a set were lighted. Otherwise, all night dark.
Flying some more, though neighbourhoods, I am narrating now, knowing that my moving physical, not dreamworld, mouth and words will be heard in the real world on the other side. I am flying, flying, ha ha ha, through neighbourhoods. I fly though a yard, right, then I see the side of a house, left, then through a solid wooden fence gate, and then right and then left and then right again.
I see strange vehicles on the road. One of them is a red van with a World War Two german jeep grill, Mad Max, but all red, windows black, on the driver and passenger front windows, and no other windows. In front of it, as if it were pulling it was a much smaller cube car, also all red.
Narrate, I am flying at Napier and Commercial. Then into a house. Narrating, flying. I see some people from the party earlier. I fly towards the front door, linnoleum floor, small red and yellow and orange sesame seed shaped specks in a thin black outline. fly back into the house, I see two black people, one moving in from the left to right, profile, Jamaican, tall, in profile, I can see the light accentuate his body, especially the abs. Dark kitchen room. Light coming in only from another room to the right. And on the kitchen counter sitting down, and wearing a khaki olive canvas army jacket, was the black guy King from the movie Platooon.
I fly out the door, this time it is pitch black night outside. I fly upwards going straight up. Nope. Still too black and I can see the house, thin light lines accentuating it slightly in an otherwise totally pitch black night. This scares me. I remember the microthought that I thought at the time, "I know the dreamworld well, I am used to Spring mornings, or at least some kind of light. I have never seen this pitch black before. I don't think this is good. I also remembered at the time, that it is a very important thing not to let fear enter into this; do not show fear." I go to the front yard fence of the house, at the left fencepost as I am walking back into the house, I open the door and see a slight light, the same light.A living room pitch black, behind the living room is a dining room, where the Jamaican and King the actor were this room also dark, and to the right of that is the lighted kitchen where the party and the people were. Anyways I look in for a second.
Then back to the left front fencepost. I have to wake up, this is a dream, I have to shake myself awake. I don't want to be in this pitch black night near a house full with strangers whom I don't even know.
At a bookstore, Northwest corner of Cambie and Hastings, I walk up the stairs to a set of double doors. A hallway stairway. I turn around and say out loud to the people shopping down there. "I am in Vancouver now, but I am going back to Dawson Creek tonight on the plane. I am always saying that in my dreams! Windows opening to a view of Hastings Street at Cambie. Cenotaph corner. In the main floor of the bookstore, empty except for few boxes on the floor. Support pillars. At the back of the store, an old man bookstore owner sitting behind a large desk. I walk to him and tell him that I am indeed going back to Dawson Creek tonight.
I walk down the street, Prior Street in Vancouver, going West.Light, magic hour, around 9 pm in the summer, dusk. North side of the street. Four blocks before Gore and Prior, I am walking. I hear a voice yell "Dean!" I look around. A male Chinese voice. I look again and I see a former high school student leaning out of a window. I say hi back to that person.
Walk down the street more. A couple of guys walk onto the street to say hello. Gays. One guy is white, brown hair, blue jacket. Stepping out onto the street, was the other guy, if you could call it that. A transvestite. Chinese, he had a crew cut hairstyle and he was wearing a thin silver necklace with three or four silver rods hanging from it, each rod spaced a couple of inches apart on the necklace, and a gold brocade dress. Little gold squares altogether forming a dress. I say hello to be friendly, but I walk on, shuddering, thinking, visiting Vancouver, the astral version of Vancouver or otherwise, you would run into people like that.
Across the street, the South side of the street, I see a bunch of Chinese girls from high school. They appear to be older than high school, early twenties. But the thing is, these people presumably still alive today, would be my age, about 40 years old. One guy is amongst them. I see them and they see me but I thought while in the dreamworld, pretty much what I think in the waking world is that knowing those people again would be a regression. They sense my hesitation of them and hate me for it. Then I reach Gore street, as the street arcs North.
At one point in the dream I remember walking down a mud path, like a construction worker's path, orange things in the road, my thoughts, "I wish I had a couple of thousand dollars so then I could go to Thailand again. Bangkok knows how to protect Chinese people from the Chinese tongs."
Note: In the dreamworld you can run into all kinds of weird characters. You must be fearless to describe them.
After death, one is a spirit like a whirling dustcloud, flying from this location to that location where a single thought can send you to the other side of the planet. This is from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. They certainly knew a thing or two about astral projection and the nature of spirit in the spirit world.
I tend to wander around aimlessly in my dreams. Shamans know the dreamworld so well, they know where they want to go in advance. It is like a ship where just a slight turn of the wheel gives way to the most violent turn to the right or to the left.
The mind consciously thinks of a place that it wants to go to, but within that thought, there are ten subthoughts about ten different places which one does not even realize because it is in the subconscious, but guess what, one goes there!
