The inlet that runs by the house was frozen over all last week due to it being ass cold outside, and I meant to take a photo because it looked awesome. However, I kept putting it off and putting it off because damn, it was ass cold outside.
The filmmaker bug is nibbling at me again, and I found myself fantasizing at work today about quitting and making a living creating works of entertainment. I guess the official term would be "independent filmmaker" but, you know, my stuff would be indy due to the nature of its creation, but not indy indy—not the same genre where flowers wilt or steaks rot in time-lapse black-and-white while its creators all but fellate others for awards and golf-claps. I dig accessible works of art, you see; I'm not so much an appreciator of art as I am a consumer of it. I suppose that says something about me right there, but I just can't "appreciate" something created for the sole purpose of pointing out how I both can't understand it and refuse to pretend that I do.
There's a cross on a hill that sits next to Route 5, in a small break of the trees. I haven't been up the hill to look at the cross up close, but it's probably about 10 feet tall and made of either stone or marble. When driving home from my friend's house late at night, I've sometimes caught glimpses of it during fog or during a starkly-clear full moon. It looks like an establishing shot out of a horror movie, and I find myself wanting to incorporate it into a work that doesn't exist.
Speaking of a horror-themed work that doesn't exist, I'm still waiting on Symphony of the Night to be released on Xbox Live. I've never played it before but damn, do I ever want to.
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