Month: October 2012

A Study on Character Development

This is a poem I wrote and made it into a screenplay. Due to being completely broke budget restrictions and the lack of a male British voice to narrate it, I’ve made it a text and music short.

One day, it will have actors and all those pretty things they do with cameras and fancy editing software.

‘A Study on Character Development’

I was hers.
She thought me.
She made me.
One given day, drinking her third cup of coffee, she created me.
A spark. An idea.
She rushed to her computer and started to write.
She gave me a name, a body, and filled me with everything that came up in her mind.
She made me. She made me hers. I lived to do her bidding.
She made me walk. She made me run.
She put her foot forward and watched me fall.
I walked for her some more. Ran for her some more.
One time she even made me crawl. Out of harm’s way, of course.
I sat at the table for her.
I drank tea, coffee, wine, whiskey, water, for her.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
She made me jump.
She thought me at her computer. She thought me in the shower.
We talked, and laughed, and talked some more.
She made me smile, she made me wink, she made me cry, she made me speak.
She pushed me down. She lifted me.
She dragged me around the room and kissed my cheeks.
She gave me a gun and a reason to use it.
She gave me motives to breathe and motives to want to die.
I went wherever she went.
I stood behind her, I stood in front of her, I stood beside her, and took her hand.
We read books together.
We watched movies together.
We argued, got into fights.
She shouted when I shouted. She cried when I cried.
She laughed with me. She laughed because of me.
She smiled when I smiled.
I ate for her.
I jumped for her.
I took off my shoes for her and put them on again.
I slid my jacket off my arms and pulled it back again.
I cocked my eyebrow for her.
I shaved for her.
I was happy for her. I was angry for her.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
We ate together. We drank together. We bathed together.
She took my hand.
She kissed my lips.
We talked some more.
We made love.
She hated me. I hated her.
She loved me. I loved her.
She made up my words. I lived in her words.
She made up my world. I lived in her world.
She reached out and touched me when she was scared.
Ran into my arms bursting with joy when all was well.
She made me. She made me hers.
She thought me over and over again.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
Made me walk, smile, trip, drink, love, cry, love, cry, wink, kiss, hate, jump, shout, kill, sit, dream, run, speak, stand, breathe, crawl, eat, sleep, live for her.
Moved me. Froze me. Made me walk in her wake.
She shoved me. She punched me. She hugged me.
She whispered things into my ear.
We watched movies.
Dressed and undressed.
We laughed, we cried, we held hands.
She wrote me word by word. Filled my head with thoughts. Thoughts that were hers.
I lived and breathed through her.
And when the story was finished, when all the words were were written, when everything was said, she murdered me so I could be loved by someone else.

 

Text: (c) Astrid ‘Artistikem’ Cruz
Music: ‘The First Day Pt. 2’ by All Will Be Quiet
(no copyright infringement intended, I make no profit from this)

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The Five Obstructions / Det Perfekte Menneske

‘The Five Obstructions’ is one of those movies I go back to when I need a pick me up. I highly recommend it. Lars von Trier pushing Jørgen Leth out of his comfort zone? Priceless.

The Trailer:

The original:

Det Perfekte Menneske (Sadly, I can’t find one with the original audio)

Obstruction #1

Obstruction #2

Obstruction #4

Not all obstructions have been uploaded to YouTube, so there you have the ones that are there/are in the original language.

Raw Fiction Friday. Stories About Love: At the Corner of Mars and Neptune Ch. 1

It’s been some time since I’ve posted original stories (that have nothing to do with the book), so I thought I’d put this one here. It’s nine chapters long and I’ll be posting them every Friday. Raw means no professional editing. Enjoy!

1

Knock knock.
Fuck. My head hurts.
It’s the police. Open the door.
I’m too stoned to even know where I am.
My hands and legs weigh a ton and my head’s about to explode. I roll to my side, the hotness comes up my throat and I hurl.
Open. The. Door.
“Brian.” He can’t hear me. “Brian!” Don’t do that, don’t shout.
There’s a police officer at the door and the rotten smell is coming out through my nose.
Last chance before we throw it down.
Throw? Yeah, throw up. I try to push myself up but my hands skid on it.
“Brian?”
There’s something more on the floor. Making it slippery, denying me of purchase. Something liquid and a bit sticky.
It smells. It smells like…
Blood.
Go away blur I need to see. My fucking god I can’t rub my eyes with my hands full of shit… Shake my head, make it go away and see.
Brian. Lying on the floor. A knife stuck in his chest and now my hands are covered in puke, my puke, and blood, his blood. And the police are knocking on the door and I have nowhere else to go but out. Out, through a window, through a door. Whatever. Wherever I fit through ‘cause I’m small enough. But where? I don’t know this house. This is Brian’s house. A mansion in the middle of nowhere only a man like him could buy, and have, on his own.
We were supposed to be on our own.
We’re coming in.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I can’t remember a damn thing but I know where’s the door. The backdoor. Through the back. Through the dinning room with the chandelier made of Swarovski crystals. Through the kitchen. Through the parallel lines of granite countertops and expensive stainless steel appliances that are never even turned on.
Push the door open. Don’t have the key and it’s locked and I can’t see straight. A window must be unlocked. The one above the sink, that looks over the side of the house.
Boots. Stepping on the marble floors. Voices. Shouting over each other.
Push the fucking frame of the fucking window, pull the fucking lock, open the fucking window. Quick. Come on. Fuck.
The voices are coming. Getting closer by the second and I wriggle the lock because I’m too fucking nervous and I can’t see. When it let’s go I fall. Face first. The grass like nails on my skin but I can’t let it stop me. Run. Run like the rotten soul you are, as if being followed by the devil.
Run.
It’s dark. It’s still night. I have no idea of the time. My head throbs. Firecrackers going off inside my skull with every step.
Freeze!
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
Don’t hit a tree. Don’t step on its root. Above all, don’t fall. It’s a forest, the easiest place to get lost. Run. Don’t stop running. Let the forest swallow you like it does with all lost souls.
Mist. Thank god.
Cover me. Make me invisible. My head pounds too much. It’s too much to go on. Can’t breathe. Can’t see. Can’t feel my feet. I’m going numb.
My knees weaken and I hit the ground. No, I didn’t step on any root. I managed to dodge the trees. I hit myself. Stepped on my own foot, since I can’t feel it, I can’t see where I’m going. I just fell. And my head hurts. A lot. It’s coming again. I heave. Try and make an inventory of all the stuff I drank, I ate, I sniffed, I injected into my veins in the last twenty-four hours.
Brian.
Fucking dead.
Fucking stabbed.
I can’t go on. I can’t get up. I’m too heavy. The world’s too heavy and it wants me to go to sleep. It wants me to go ZZZzzz.
Footsteps. Running towards me.
Let me go ZZZzzzZZZZzZZzZZ.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.
My arm is being pulled up. I’m vomiting in my sleep. I’m rolled to my side.
There you go. I don’t need you dying on me.