Sunday, April 24

Short flight in from Omaha. It's raining in Colorado. Can't even see the mountains from the bus stop at the airport.

This is the kind of transition I appreciate. Gathering darkness, streetlights on wet pavement, fog on the bus windows. It's easy to feel if not exactly significant, then at least a little cinematic.

Every moment is a scene. Maybe this is the curse of every generation since the species got complicated enough to invent fiction. There's a voice in your head that is your own, projected into an imaginary future where you're telling the present moment as a story. And by now it's ramified through a thousand different ways to imagine that telling. You walk down every street and in your mind's eye there's a crane shot as the soundtrack kicks in.

You see the more heated conversations with quick cuts and flashbacks. There are bits where you dramatically exchange e-mails with people. Lots of close-ups on the screen, audible keypresses. The sound editing is really good - it sounds like a movie, but also like the way you experience the world in the middle of a really good hangover. Everything is crisp and distinct, everything feels composed and sequential.

You'll be on the phone and somewhere in the background, part of your mind is struggling to adapt dialog for the screen. Maybe from the thinly-veiled autobiography of a novel you'll piece together from journal fragments, into lines that could work for a mainstream audience without insulting anyone's intelligence too much. You can hear the voice of an aging but respected rock journalist in a segment of the documentary about your life (it's a good one - you can tell the filmmakers like you, even though it's almost uncomfortable in its honesty, especially for something that shows up on PBS during pledge week). They cut from the rock critic to the one usable piece of footage they got from an ex-girlfriend. It's obvious she wishes she hadn't agreed to talk to them. She gave them a couple of photographs all the same, though. They're good ones. You look happy, or at least involved.

p1k3 / 2011 / 4 / 24
tags: topics/colorado