It's becoming a tradition to post a containment drawing when I'm in a hurry. I'd like to tell you that I've worked so hard during this time that I have enough content to post for the next five years... but no. I've also done a lot of nothing.
This is a mock-up. I had started the final drawing but it never saw the light of day:
PS: How did I not think of this before? It's not containment drawings! It's Coron'Art!"
As is often the case, I bought this book by chance because I opened it in the middle and one sentence caught my eye. In this case (from memory):"You wouldn't have envied the tenor in the camel-hair coat if you had guessed his fear and known how he was going to die." Then I let fifteen years pass. Two days ago I stumbled upon it again and read the first poem that enchanted me:
My Lord, I loved strawberry jam
And the dark sweetness of a woman’s body.
Also well-chilled vodka, herring in olive oil,
Scents, of cinnamon, of cloves.
So what kind of prophet am I? Why should the spirit
Have visited such a man? Many others
Were justly called, and trustworthy.
Who would have trusted me? For they saw
How I empty glasses, throw myself on food,
And glance greedily at the waitress’s neck.
Flawed and aware of it. Desiring greatness,
Able to recognise greatness wherever it is,
And yet not quite, only in part, clairvoyant,
I knew what was left for smaller men like me:
A feast of brief hopes, a rally of the proud,
A tournament of hunchbacks, literature.-- Czeslaw Milosz, A Confession, 1986
Of course, you've known about this song for ages. Because you guys are cool.
But did you know that Dan Klein, the lead singer of The Frightnrs, died of Charcot's disease? I think it's something to listen to a song knowing that:
So yes: it's reggae. But New York reggae, I'm told.
And when you hear the first notes of his sinuous and melancholic voice, I think that, like me, you will be conquered:
End of the weekend. I've got a little extra time, I'm heading back to Paris tomorrow morning.
In addition to some paperwork for ChezFilms, I've finally found the ending to "The Stagemaster," the English-language feature film I finished writing .... so long ago. At least five years. I found the right ending: the one that makes sense and sheds a new, beautiful, coherent light on the characters. So that now, I can't help but repeat "it couldn't have ended any other way."
I've also moved forward with a new medium-length film project that I'm very excited about. As soon as I walk down the street, I dive right back into it and the scenes come by themselves. At no point do I need to think about it intellectually - which is the main enemy of screenwriters, if you know my opinions on the subject.
I've also made progress on "When the Gondolier Dies," my novel. I'm on the last chapter and it's progressing more and more slowly as I get to the end.
So I'm summarizing:
In 1980, a building is finished being built in Kramatorsk, Ukraine. The following year, an 18-year-old woman living in apartment #85 dies suddenly. Two years later, it is her 16-year-old brother who dies. Then the mother. Despite these serial deaths - all of them from leukemia - the residents are not more worried than that. Doctors think it's "bad heredity."
A new family moves in. This time, it's the son who dies of lightning leukemia. The father decides to investigate.
The result of the investigation (hold on to your hat):
In 1970, a highly radioactive cesium capsule that was part of a radiation counter is misplaced in Karansky's quarry. The fruitless search is abandoned after a week. The stones extracted from the quarry are used for the construction of the building 7 Mariyi Pryimachenk street. The radioactive capsule is found in the wall separating the #85 and #52 appartments, right next to the children's bed.
Four dead, seventeen irradiated.
Why am I talking about this? Because a radioactive capsule was just lost on a road somewhere in Australia. If you happen to be driving by...
It's becoming a habit: when I don't have time, I post an old drawing I did during lockdown. Except that this is also the subject. And it's not really a drawing. But hey.
I spend so much time writing on my computer (novel, screenplay, journal, email, etc.) that I recently started practicing typing. Every word-per-minute I gain will be paid back a hundredfold - that's my evil plan.
During one of these typing sessions, I realized the following phenomenon: I get much better scores when I'm not trying to go fast.
Or more precisely: when I focus solely on accuracy (making zero mistakes by going as slow as necessary), I become both faster (in words per minute) and more accurate (in errors per sentence). In other words: I type faster when I'm taking my time.
Hence my question: in how many areas am I inefficient (or just plain bad) because I try to go too fast?
Besides, why go fast?
It seems there is nothing we can do about it: it's a conditioned reflex. As soon as we master the basics of an activity, the next step is to want to increase the pace. Find the technique, the trick, the gadget that will allow to go faster to improve performance. Above all, don't waste time.
We see this everywhere. In school, the best students are those who shine in limited time. In sports, the medal goes to the fastest. At work, the first one in wins the job or the promotion. It's so ingrained that we don't even think about it anymore.
But recently, I've been leading the resistance.
If you think about it, you realize that there are many activities where speed isn't as necessary as you might imagine. Roughly speaking, unless you're an EMT, firefighter, or a sprinter, we've become accustomed to going too fast in everything.
So the next time you're working, walking, or cleaning, ask yourself this magic question, "Could I do this activity much, much slower?".
This way of looking at things has transformed my daily life.
The idea that I could complete a task "at my own pace" without regard to speed or efficiency makes any activity much more palatable to me. I procrastinate less. I am less anxious about work. I consider without apprehension actions that I would never have thought of undertaking before. And when I notice latent stress, I can often relate it to an underlying performance pressure.
But most importantly, this philosophy has another benefit I didn't expect: slowing down has made me much, much faster at everything.
* For those interested, my routine for typing on the keyboard: I start with keybr where my goal is to make zero mistakes with capitalization and punctuation enabled. then I move on to monkeytype where I need to be over 96% accurate (French 2K with capitalization and quotation marks). Finally, 10fastfingers to go as fast as possible while still staying above 96%.
To get away from Six Feet Under, The Wire, Mad Men, or The West Wing for a bit, there's a series I had stumbled upon that blew my mind. I watched it again this week and it transported me again. But most of all, episode 8 - what the writers call the "turning point", where the protagonist(s) decide(s) to face their destiny - had a strong effect on me. It did it again.
The show is Halt and Catch Fire and the episode in question is called "The 214's."
It's nice to see a series thought out from the ground up. It doesn't feel like the writers are tricking themselves and constantly having to justify previously made-up nonsense. The characters are consistent. It goes somewhere. It's telling something.
In this eighth episode, after the dramatic setbacks we've come to expect before the climax, the three main characters make the decision to take the plunge and throw themselves into the void. Except that here, it's not the usual writing exercise seen a thousand times. I believed it. I was with them. Everything that had happened previously suddenly made sense and made me want to hit the road with them to Comdex.
And the opening credits were quite something.
I can't seem to find the subsequent seasons in VO. And I may be a little afraid of being disappointed. But if you have any leads...
Concept art for an animated short I finished writing a long time ago but never got around to it. The next step would have been to send the script to producers.
First sentence of the film (voice-over):
When the technology was advanced enough to reach Mars, all the governments of the world wondered:
- Who should we send?
- I know, said someone! What if we sent a child?
And everyone thought it was a great idea. But if you ask me: it was a silly idea.
Change the world, maybe not. But you'll stop bugging me.
At the table, with your family, with your friends: have a blast.
Even if the Nadine de Rothschild's handbook says it's not done (what's the next step: "bonne graille?" remarked a guest), it's part of French culture, part of your freedom of expression and if not, how do you break the ice with all those people you have nothing to say to?
BUT, when you see, sitting on a public bench or on a terrace, someone you don't know whatsoever, that you will never cross paths with again in your life, and who is taking the first bite out of their sandwich while reading the newspaper... Why bother them?
True: it's always nice to connect with another human being.
But other than forcing them to swallow hard only to respond with a half-hearted "thank you" and disappear from their life forever, what did you accomplish? What did you get out of this interaction? Why the cheerfulness in your voice and the self-satisfied little smile as you left on Amsterdam Street? (Those involved will recognize themselves.)
If you're a waiter and I ask you for a coffee, there's no need to offer "And don't you want a little croissant with that?"
No. I don't want anything. Pack up your junk.
If I had wanted something, I would have uttered the corresponding words. I would have articulated "with a croissant" or I would have asked for the breakfast option. I don't need any assistance in appreciating my desires or formulating my wants.
So I know: it's probably your boss who demands it. But let me share a secret with you: there's nothing that requires you to follow dumb orders when your boss isn't standing right behind you. And I refuse to believe that he's replaying the surveillance tapes reading your lips to make sure you're suggesting the right baked goods. (If so, get the hell out.)
What's next? Ordering a glass of water only to have the waiter whisper in your ear "wouldn't you like to go for a quick pee first?". At least I'd find that funny.
Let's end on a positive note.
Whether it's meditation, exercise or finding meaning in your life, start now. Get started today. Right now. Don't even finish this paragraph. Just go for it.
Most importantly, don't wait until you "finish such-and-such a project" or "are in a better place."
There are two reasons not to wait:
For example: I meditate and journal every morning. Sometimes I skip a day or two - it happens. But never - oh, never! - when I have an important or busy day. On the contrary: that's when it counts and when I need all my mental energy.
The mornings after a bender when I'm eating fat while watching Netflix, it doesn't matter as much.