I went and saw Her and for a while afterwards I tried to make myself cry.
I feel like this is something I’ve been doing since I was a kid; trying to make myself express emotion in a way that’s valid. I had all of these tricks. Thinking about abandoned puppies was my no. 1 strategy. This girl Hannah was moving overseas and after school on her last day everyone was standing around crying and hugging, and my eyes were completely dry. I felt like some sort of freak because I felt absolutely nothing so I thought about puppies and I squinted and some tears came and then they hugged me too.
Nothing about Her made me want to cry. I expected a lot of it but I don’t know why, the trailers were strangely empty and the film was strangely empty in the same way. There were moments that were real and those were the moments when we watched silent, happy flashbacks. Scenes of a couple laughing right before a fight, that felt real. That felt like the way relationships are remembered and yeah, I started to think about my own. The film was just a distraction from the pit it had put in my stomach and I sat there feeling it churn. I went through a break up over a year ago, same as this guy, but the break up wasn’t something that happened to me. It wasn’t something external and enforced - I chose it. And I didn’t have a clear reason for it and I still don’t and to tell the truth I didn’t have a reason for ending the relationship before that, either. And that scares me more than anything. When it came to the end I was so completely numb and I’ve never really allowed myself to feel the ending. So I came home after Her and I tried to cry.
And it kind’ve worked but maybe for the wrong reasons. I miss the people I’ve left (sometimes) but I should miss them more. The truth is that I was in love and one day I realised I wasn’t in love anymore and I walked away and it didn’t really hurt at all. Cynicism is a great front and I enjoy it but I also hate the true cynic, the anti-romantic. Her didn’t end well, it didn’t teach me anything or give me any hope for relationships or for love. At one point the AI, Samantha, claims she’s in love with 600 people. Maybe that felt real. How interchangeable are the people we love, and have loved? I’ve put my hand against someone’s face and felt guilty, because I did it the exact same way I did to the last person. But you forget about that pretty quickly. Sometimes I think I’m in love now and sometimes I’m sure of it. But I’ve never seen a true love story and Her sure as hell wasn’t going to give me one.
I look like a hacker from the 90s
I’m starting to get feedback for my treatment. From my friend Joseph Ryan:
If you put your ear to a really powerful story, then you can hear the heartbeat of the artist who wrote it. If you can do this in your story, then people will feel your soul through time. Because story craft at its best is real emotional telepathy. You can give a book to a human on the other side of the galaxy, and that human reading can feel what that writer felt.
I like this advice because it is heartwarming and inspiring, and because it makes me think of space. What if aliens watch our movies.
In the meantime, Lightning Returns. Check out my sweet outfit:
This one villager was like “You don’t look like a grocer” how fucking dare they. There are more practical outfits but this one glows in the dark and gives me Thundara. The game is great. The whole tone is dark and desperate and I’m worried for Lightning. When I ran into the moogles I thought I saw a pink shape that could be Serah, and I was so excited for Lightning to see her again, but it was just a large glowing mushroom.
I returned it to the DVD store today thinking I should get more work done instead. Now I’m going to bleach my hair.
Is this outfit too goth for a job interview?
Okay, okay. My treatment exists as a full length draft. I haven’t been able to read it yet but I have about a week to make it flawless before I start on the script proper.
In the mean time I’m trying to write an article about gender theory in radical vs liberal feminism. This would be easier if I hadn’t suddenly become super interested in aliens. So many people have reported sightings and abductions. Abductions. People - a lot of people - have reported being abducted by aliens. This is a big deal.
Okay I’m a little behind, my plot could always be more solid, but I’m halfway through the treatment now and should be getting to the script-proper by the end of this month. While writing I’ve been adding notes to a page of things that I need to research. Highlights include:
What does a starving horse look like
Can you give it wine.
Has anyone else been planning out, in detail, exactly what they’ll wear and do when they accept their award for Best Director at the Golden Globes. I’m thinking sweat pants, and I’ll frown the whole time, and then I’ll go up and reject my award and announce that the golden globes are dumb and sexist and racist. I’ll try to drop the mic but I think it’s attached to the podium
During Christmas dinner I tried to explain why I was a vegetarian. My story goes “I saw a film it was horrible” and when that wasn’t enough I tried to act out the film. But the film was basically just “and then he shot the cow. He shot the cow in the face” and I said this final line with a tone of shock and disbelief and my farmland-raised family stared at me blankly. I realised that they are a group of well-adjusted adults familiar with the ways of the animal kingdom, and that I am a child with a fear of death so strong that I can’t take a bite out of a ham and cheese sandwich without sobbing over the concept of my own mortality.