Caila Lipovsky

I’ve been assigned to write a proposal for a video project that can be done in the City College studio and/or campus, and I also want to do my daily blog update, so I’ll just combine the two.  The following is some brainstorming which may not make sense to you or me, but it must be done.

THE VIDEO:  Music video for “She Loves You But…”  A minimalist, comedic montage of desolate loneliness spliced with joyous freedom.

?(Dance moves.   A scene w/two people doing a sad dance.  i.e.  ”She” hands him a big paper heart, “He” takes it in one hand, reaching for her crotch with the other.  She darts out of his reach, He clutches the heart.  She dances.  Perhaps I will play both characters, possibly Harry and Margerie.    Perhaps I’ll make a love triangle and will add Lucy to the mix.)?

Perhaps Harry is in a college classroom, sitting at a desk among far younger college students.  A cell phone rings.  He reaches into his bag, pulling out a phone(an old school home phone, perhaps a rotary), thinking it’s his.  A girl next to him answers her phone, looking lively and titillated.  We can tell she is on the phone with her sex partner.

THE INTENDED MESSAGE:  It’s tomfoolery, intended to amuse and entertain, simultaneously poking fun at and embracing current pop trends by featuring extremely  downtrodden, disenfranchised characters in a song with a trendy beat and lyrics only slightly more pronouncedly ridiculous than those that dominate the pop charts and airwaves.

THE AUDIENCE:  20-30 somethings.  Alternative comedy fans.  (Is there such a thing as alternative comedy now?  Or has everything alternative and rebellious been infiltrated by mainstream media, corporation-ified and diluted into mind numbing, brain putrefying hogwash?) Youtube viewers.

SHOTS:  Some school stuff. i.e.  Harry brings Margerie an apple, she bites it and sits.  He tries to sit on her, she dodges him, he falls down.  A shot of him gazing at her while she gazes out the window.  the bell rings, class ends, Lucy runs out, Harry chases her.   Perhaps Margerie is the teacher.  Perhaps Lucy is another student.   Dance shots in the studio.  Green screen, dreamlike sequences.

TALENT: I can play a few characters. We need some extras, which we can cast with our classmates.

CREW:  We need a camera operators and a DP.  I’ll plan the shots and will edit it, please..?

Ok, thank heavens for this blog.  It made doing a homework assignment feel like nothing.  I need to stretch this out a wee bit, plan the shots better and expand it to a 2 page paper, but there’s no reason I can’t do that by tomorrow night.  Peace.

I’ve hurt my finger and was only able to use my left hand in the shower this morning.  I’m right-handed, and this was more ridiculously difficult than you might think!

The #1 bus was crammed to a vulgar degree.  Bags and large guts poked me, armpits hovered as bristly people grabbed the grimy overhead bars. I stood and hovered my own armpit over a small woman with Down’s syndrome who was picking skin off of her fingers, which were flaky and red, fingernails picked down to nubs.  After a few stops, her caretaker screamed at her to get up and get off! Overwhelmed,  I promptly sat in her vacated seat quickly, and the elderly couple sitting on both sides of me started shouting at each other in Chinese.  Suddenly, I smelled the most unseemly of odors which seemed to be coming from my seat.  I jumped up shrieking.  The bus laughed like a callous, overjoyed whale (the vehicle itself), shaking me in its belly.  I looked down at the seat–a touch of dampness, no rusty puddle, thank heavens.

What the hell did I sit in?

“Jesus Christ!” I yelled, and ran to the back of the bus–I noticed the elderly couple were angling to look at my ass to see if I had sat in diarreah.

I hadn’t but this was horrible, and I was running too late to go back home and change.

I came barking into work with my hair on fire.  Kaila checked out my ass and said she didn’t see or smell anything foul, but I still asked that she help spray me down with lysol, which I ordinarily loathe.

I have never been so happy to come home and one-handedly wash my own ass.

Somebody is hammering next door, and I am going insane with self-righteous fury over it. It’s nearly eleven, HOW FUCKING DARE THEY?! Moments like these, I hate living alone. If I had a roommate to back me up, I’d go over and knock and say in the politest tone possible: “Hi, it’s late, and I need to sleep. Could you please hold off on that until tomorrow? Thank you.” And everything would be just fine.

I keep meaning to tell the building manager about annoying late night noise, but I don’t want to call too late and wake him up. In the morning when I arise, I’m preoccupied with my daytime problems and put it off. Maybe now that I’m pissed off enough to blog about it, I’ll actually be empowered to call the guy tomorrow. If I keep putting it off, I may go completely insane.