It’s chilly in Wahiawa this morning. Each night seems colder than the last, and no reprieve until Spring perhaps.
The clock hands tick but I don’t think time passes as such.
If time is relative then a new year is seemingly no more than a sacred ritual people mark for the passing of time and for a sense if renewal. Time itself, has it’s own expression, if it were relative.
Still, it is hopeful to have that sense of renewal and rebirth amongst everyone. The durée become anew.
I wonder what things then would return. Perhaps I’ve read too many dusty tomes left best on a shelf.
Life and experience is before me, although not as pleasant as of late.
I’ve come to be disappointed with my best friend. I feel he as much as I as of late.
I remember listening for hours about him talking about cinema. He had an arrogance about his words but it amazed me that he could watch the most dense Goddard film and see the entire aesthetic range presented. He could pick it out as easily as an order at an In and Out menu. I envied that he could do such a thing since I’d usually fall asleep to these great films. There wasn’t any kung fu in them.
Still, just hanging out with him had an effect on me. I learned bits and pieces about cinema. Not just the beauty of it, but structure, and elements of film making as well.
Movies became an important place in my life because of him. I can’t even watch a movie the same any more, without analyzing plot structure, lighting, the use of CGI vs solid storytelling, etc.
The years passed since those days, or perhaps the durée snapped and now we’re all grown up.
We had a budgeted film backed by a company in LA. We were supposed to hit it big. Guaranteed viewing on PBS LA and San Diego. Talks about going on the road hitting the film festival circuit. A lot of dreams.
He was the director, I was a producer and actor in it. I remember shedding 80 pounds for that role. I believed in him because my friend always had this passion about film. His vision was going to come true.
It was a blast making it. I was in charge of rehearsals, keeping cast and crew properly motivated, location scouting, etc. I had my lines to memorize and emote as well. Craft services was a particularly yummy experience.
I’ll skip forward here and say despite our efforts and passion, the film got put into turn around and never made it past post-production. We were all devastated.
It’s been years since, and he got wrapped up at work. So did I. He keeps busy with his new passion which is his family. I went through a ton of brow beating myself but found my dreams fulfilled teaching martial arts and writing.
Still, I know him too well. His camera is left perfectly intact. His hands start a script but it never seems perfect.
If time passes linearly, and the clock hand speaks the truth, then the course of years seemingly bear down upon his shoulders like any demon riding his back and simply get heavier as the calendars come off and on the wall.
I’ve my own thoughts about time though.
I believe he will return one day to film because if I don’t, it will scar all those days in college, running the Cinematheque. We showed foreign and indie films for free to the public. Those long hours shooting scenes with an old camcorder and doing deck to deck analog editing. Writing critiques in the school paper. Ha! I was his editor then! Just giving the finger to the box people tried to put us in, downing shot or three, and then kick down a door to make ourselves known.
We were young and starry eyed.
I miss you my friend. I miss your dream of a better tomorrow.
Who are you writing about, if you don’t mind me asking?
He knows who he is.
He continues to surprise me.
In torpor, surprise is denied. It is less a sleep of nightly reprieve, but a hibernation of the soul. All spectacle will then be but speculation. That person will therefore only exist within the memory of others rather than the reality of passion’s coma.