Tuesday, June 24, 2008

rough draft

No skills

he says he has none, but i see the brushes stroke from his imagination
Alone in his bathroom he'll sit and draws pictures on his walls
Singing a sad melody filling the room with cold air
The breeze blows inside from the bathroom window
That was left open as she climbed out, not looking back
Humming the same sad melody.

She sits at her computer typing words away that will never be read
Listening to the sweet sound of his favorite band
And she remembers the warm sunny day when he gave her that song
But now he is gone and he is left to fight a war that serves greed's purpose
A song she never loved.

He lays in a bed cold from the emptiness that surrounds him
Silence takes over the night
Sirens blare his cry
He crushes his head into his pillow, remembering her face
As if, she was looking at him,
Only a pillow away.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

the darjeeling limited

So I am not the fastest at getting to movies. I am often caught up in other day to day activities. After all I don't live in a basement of my parents house. I am jealous if you do, as many of my friends are, but I am also thankful of my freedom. I also have been almost consistently employed, or busy with something big in my life.

Anyway, I finally got around to watching Wes Anderson's last big movie. While the reviews were not spectacular, even from my wes anderson fan friends, I must admit, it was sweet in my heart. The movie seemed to try to hard to be the royal tennenbaums. The colors were brighter and bolder, perhaps that was the problem. The characters seem to not function as they should, but the movie definitely left an impression. I think the movie was great because it made me think. I constantly was asking why? what does this mean? what message is he trying to convey with this song or those colors? What is happening in this shot? So perhaps the directing and even the storyline could have been better, it seemed to me to bring about something that was needed. At least in me, Inspiration. Some days it comes and some days it doesnt. I guess that is the curse to having a fickle muse.