A Treatise Dipped in Dark Chocolate

{via}

"I went into her closet. I pushed past the coats to open the safe. I moved the gun out of the way. I took a chocolate bar: Balanchine Special Dark. I put the gun back. I closed the safe."

All These Things I've Done by Gabrielle Zevin

What if we lived in a world where chocolate is contraband. A world that meant we all had to skulk around in hidden corners and alleyways, quietly tearing a corner wrapper of our Choxie Special Dark? What if the police could spot you on the street, and arrest you at the mere inkling, or smell of cacao on your breath? How about extra special speakeasy's planned surreptitiously in dark bars down historic side streets that once gleamed with freedom. (I would actually love that). What if the news consisted of crazed humans, eyes bloodshot for Herseys, M & Ms, dark chocolate covered Espresso beans, and glances that seem to giveaway that they know when the next chocolaty infraction will occur. How about cocoa sold by the bottle, manufactured in bathtubs hidden in secret dens somewhere, beneath cold solid buildings that we pass everyday. If you couldn't go to the store and pick up your favorite chocolate bar because the law deemed it illegal to produce, purchase, or gift, what would you do?

I write this entirely made up scenario, courtesy of being enamored by All These Things I've Done by Gabrielle Zevin, to propose a great 'what if' to the things that we take for granted. The simple things. The things we never expect to have to choose, give up, or watch in horror as they are stripped away from us. That last is an exaggeration, given the improbable scenario above, but my desire is to merely encourage you to enjoy the simple things in life. Be grateful for them, long for them, take part in them proudly, whatever they may be to you. Sure, the possibility of such an event occurring seems slim, but you never know what could happen in a blink. Celebrate everything. Love and embrace the magic of every moment. Take the time to really taste, listen, feel, touch every significant thing God brings into your life. And by all means, get out there and buy some chocolate!

This is my treatise to Dark Chocolate.

This is my treatise to summer and to YOLO (because I've only recently found out what it means.)

These are the words of a nut with a crazy imagination, enamored with others who have crazed imaginations.

Happy Summer.  

Mourning Glories

Your voice rang to the tune of church bells

that night. Its timbre exhausted, your eyes

deep glasses of cognac as you chanted your spells.

The words steeped in glorious lies

that lit into me, cigarette butts branding my chest. 

I could feel it coming. I longed for it. Your story

so unlike my own. Tar stained and tragic, transgressed

by all. I smiled when you handed me violet morning glories

as if that would shroud your little amusement, in love.

The rouge on my lips, slathered on my cheeks

Are you not seduced? Hours consisted of 

Aching Whispers in darkness for two weeks.

Thirteen Days, sputniks hovering in glittering sky

But the Fourteenth day, your note read goodbye.

This weekend I slaved away, hoping to channel Shakespeare and Browning as I penned a sonnet. It's very hilarious to me that my supervisor would assign this to all of the Creative Writers. I'd been dreading this assignment since I thought it could happen, but no worries. I got one down. Not sure if its the work of epic genius, but I'm proud of it all the same. Hope you all like it. Leave me little notes! 


Source: We Heart It

Remember Me Run-Through (Everything I loved about it!)

No Copyright Infringement Intended. Script Excerpts Source: Memoirs (Early Draft of Remember Me) by Will Fetters 

There are so many parts of this script that I would have loved to photoshop into this post, however, these bits stuck out to me the most. This blog has been a great homage to this beautiful work of art, because it has influenced me so much, in both how I live my life, as well as how I should pursue writing. 

I'm not the best when it comes to writing the voices of my characters. Normally the voices of one or two characters will be so clear that they seem to actually be in the room, living out the scene right in front of me. Other characters, namely male's, seem to take a bit longer to flesh out, and fine tune. This screenplay introduced me to an authentic male voice. A voice that was not so preoccupied with being masculine, that he became a caricature. Tyler seemed to me a guy I could have roamed the the streets of lower Manhattan, while discussing the laments of course work over park bench coffee, and whom I would've certainly visited at the Strand, from opening to close. Will Fetters, in a way, taught me how I should approach creating characters who are normal, who are human, and who are fleshed out. Each character had their own story, although Tyler and Ally's stories were dominant. 

I photoshopped excerpts of the script because I feel that not enough credit is given to the writers of these beautiful stories that grace the screen. We point out gorgeous cinematography, acting ability, costume; But one of my favorite aspects of watching the Academy Awards is listening as the nominees are drawn for best Screenplay. I love how the scripts are shown, and read. For a bibliophile, there is an inherent beauty in the words as they grace the page. That's why I showcased excerpts, instead of mainly scenes from the movie!

I'm discovering that there is a great deal that a prose writer can learn from a screenwriter: pacing, the art of creating a scene, voice authenticity, setting. 

There's another Remember Me post coming...

I am the one who haunts your dreams of mountains sunk below the sea.

Play Crack The Sky is a song that you chance upon, and what treasure you find in it! I love songs that are lyrically beautiful. Songs that you want to dig into, so that you can know the deeper meaning under the surface.  I love this part of the song because it rises like the crashing waves it describes. The acoustic guitars, and the echoing verses brought chills the first time I listened to it. These kinds of songs help me to envision my novel in a greater way, and I thank God for them! I can't wait to experience some more of Brand New! 

My Dearest Fanny...

Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. Will you confess this in the Letter you must write immediately and do all you can to console me in it--make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me--write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days--three such days with you I could fill with much more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.  

I've been waiting to see the movie, Bright Star, for ages. I actually was never a big fan of Keats, until I purchased the book of letters he wrote to his love, Fanny. His words debunk the whole notion that guys have no affinity to express their love to women through words. As I read, I wished I had a pen to underline every precious gem of vulnerability that I could soak out of it. What I love most about the love expressed in the past, is it seems to have taken more work, more time, more effort, and therefore the love seemed more idyllic. I know its possible to achieve now, its just figuring out whether we will leave behind our fast paces to actually know someone.

Jane Campion, director of Bright Star, put together this wonderful production scrapbook of the movie. Beautiful photographs, letters, sketches, and lovely little bits and bobbins to pilfer through. It's too lovely to miss.

 

The Meadow by Alexandre Desplat

{you can listen to this at my music

parser on the menu bar labelled

'Cacophony'}

.01

"Love isn't  an act, it's a whole life. 

It's staying with her now because 

she needs you; it's knowing you 

and she will still care about each other when

sex and daydreams, fights and futures--

when all that's on the shelf and done with.

Love--why, I'll tell you what love is:

it's you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one,

each of you listening for the other's 

step in the next room,  each afraid that a 

sudden silence, a sudden cry,

could mean a lifetime's talk is over.

-Brian Moore

Yes. It is possible for a man to be just as passionate, just as lovely, just as meaningful, beautifully romantic, and in love with his girlfriend...his wife.