We Change Your Channel
Thinking Out Loud
Mikey K., our neighborhood assassin of oil execs, is applying lipstick in the mirror of a bathroom. The camera lurks around her.
“You’re doing this so you can remember me, right?” she asks.
She turns around to face the camera, a neutral expression on her face.
“Here, look at me the way you want to see me, or how you want me to be seen, so you can remember what I say. You ready, Sean?”
She has her hands on her hips and doesn’t care that she is nude. She looks invulnerable to me. Is this how she wants to be seen?
“What happens if a rock bumps into Earth
next Tuesday
and the dust stays in the sky
until somebody a billion years from now
finds a coffeecup from Starbucks
and a cash register
from the Banana Republic,
but the only tree they see is turned to stone?”
Mikey K. touches my camera lens with a finger.
“Who imagines a flower in the breeze,
who smells my pollen,
who feels my wind kiss their cheek?
Who imagines these things,
when the world is nothing
but stone trees and trash from Starbucks
and cash registers from the Banana Republic?”
We shoot this tomorrow, in the Hollywood Hills. One of five scenes in a project following Peter's advice: "Why not throw in a plot instead of all the philosophical bullshit, even if the philosophy is important and cool? How about a little XYZ? You guys can do it. Your lives are a drama, why not make your comedy the same?" Yeah, a little plotting in the pathos. We can do it.
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