No Need To Torture The Poor Girl
To me, that should always be the motivation in making a film--to have fun! Reading Gunnar Hansen's (Leatherface) book about the making of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre has proved to be greatly inspiring. It definitely lights a fire and makes me want to burn shit up. This poor girl doesn't need to be tortured over a lack of funds when it comes to creating a film. If you've got some ideas and a camera, you're golden. I urge any aspiring filmmaker to pick up a copy of Chain Saw Confidential. You don't need to be a horror fan, either. The book is not only well written (Hansen is a poet) but it gives an interesting glimpse into the world of movie making, encouraging people like me to step out of their comfort zone and have some fun!
Producer Ron Bozman during the filming of the infamous dinner scene.
"It was the heat, the smell, the impossible hours, the frenzy and insanity of shooting the dinner scene--the overall misery. It was the particular combination of actors and crew, most of whom had never made a movie and were willing to do whatever it took to get Chain Saw made. It was even the photo lab's sloppy work that produced the murky, off-color release prints. And it was the title. Take away any of these parts and it would all fall down. Somehow all these elements created something new and unexpected. Somehow, just for this one time, we caught lightning in a bottle. The movie is what it is because of this combination--and because this time Saturn was not in retrograde."
The Master of Disaster
First off, let me just say that I don't recommend searching Google images for "train wreck."
I recently came across something equally disturbing on the 'net--an article about why certain relationships fail while others succeed. *Rolls eyes* Why did I read it, you ask? Needing my daily dose of comic relief? Maybe. But mostly because I was feeling messed up and I'm a glutton for punishment, that's why.
The article discusses a study in which couples were observed interacting with each other, discussing the ups and downs of their relationships. Yeah, that sounds like a typical scenario. Isn't that what us couples do? Sounds like a blast! Anyway, in this study, subjects were divided into two groups: master and disaster. *Rolls eyes*
True to form, when applying my experiences, you guessed it...DISASTER! According to this article, my past relationships have failed because I tend to see the negative in most situations more than the positive. Although I tend to agree that I have a bad attitude, I also believe that those relationships didn't work because I have zero tolerance for morons. Also, I suffer from perpetual restlessness and I'm not afraid of being alone.
"Kindness and generosity are the keys to a lasting relationship," says this article. It's not true. I know plenty of couples who treat each other like garbage, and they're still together. Lasting isn't always a good thing.
At thirty-five years of age, watching friends marry and procreate poses certain questions. You start wondering whether you want those things, or if you should. In my experience, though, wondering if you want something probably means you don't.
While articles such as the one I came across are presumably meant to support couples who wish to stay together, I implore you to rather listen to those voices in your head. I know they're super annoying, and tend to say fucked up shit and even lead you astray at times, but at least allow yourself to hear them and take note.
Right now, mine are telling me to listen to this: "November Rain."
On Not Writing. . .
"I see anorexic people."
Those of you who know me well don't have to ask what the hell I'm talking about but, for the rest of you, allow me to elaborate. Many years ago I developed a sort-of obsession with anorexia. Well, I suppose it extended to people with eating disorders in general. This obsession turned into a full-blown fear.
I grew up listening to the Carpenters. In fact, they're still one of my favourite bands. There is something very lovely and melancholy about their songs, and I have always adored Karen Carpenter's voice. I also happen to think that she was absolutely beautiful. Beautiful and terrifying.
I remember flipping through Carpenters LPs as a child and coming across certain pictures of Karen that made me feel like suddenly there was an apple inside my throat--my eyes would bug out, and I would close the album. Of course, since being afraid makes me excited, I would look again. At times I would hear a terrifying sound upon seeing the images--the kind of thumping organ sounds you hear in old black and white horror films. A few years later, The Karen Carpenter Story aired on television. Of course I watched it. It gave me chills. I remember having a hard time sleeping that night. For whatever reason, for me, the image of a person with an eating disorder had become as scary as the old guy in Poltergeist II!
Now, jump forward to my awkward teen years when, for godknowswhatreason, I start seeing people with eating disorders everywhere. It seemed that, for several months, I couldn't go a day without seeing someone near death from anorexia or bulimia. It freaked me out! Just to be clear, I am not being insensitive to people suffering from these conditions, as I understand how serious and awful they are. I'm simply stating what it was like for me to feel like I was being haunted by what seemed to be the living dead.
This haunting escalated when I was 18 years old, working in a department store. I knew a girl that worked there who often spoke of her battle with bulimia. She always seemed a healthy weight to me, so I never thought much of it. Months went by without seeing her at work, and I assumed that she quit, until one day I saw what appeared to be the zombie version of her walking down the hall--gaunt face, sunken eyes and jagged bones poking out from under her clothes. I ran into her a few days later in an elevator, and I couldn't look her in the eye. I noticed her eyes darting around as well, settling on the ground as she said hello. Her voice sounded more like Gollum, probably due to the lining of her throat being damaged from puking. It was sad, and also frightening.
Later that night, while home alone in my then apartment, I had a meltdown. I was gathering laundry when I hallucinated that girl hiding in my closet. I pictured her trying to eat my arm, then I burst into hysteric tears and started shaking. I called my mom to explain what had happened. She laughed at first, because my reaction was most certainly insane, then she talked me down from the ledge.
I never saw my ill coworker again, but I still think about her. I hope she's alive, but I honestly have my doubts.
I could go on with many other stories about various encounters with people with eating disorders, but I won't. I don't have the same fear I used to. It could be because I've gotten to know some people who have suffered from these conditions and I was more occupied with being a friend than being afraid during their struggles.
The reason I'm writing this post is because I recently saw someone that means a lot to me who is clearly wasting away, due to an eating disorder. She is one of the reasons I continue writing as she always encouraged me. Her praise lifted my confidence and I am forever grateful for having the opportunity to write for and with her. Unfortunately, I spotted her in the hospital, while waiting for someone else I care about. It wasn't the time or place to approach her, but I wanted to tell her how much her kindness and encouragement helped me. I hope she already knows, and I hope that she is able to find the help she needs.
I'm finally doing it--pulling my insides out and splattering them around for all to see. Here we go!