3 scars + I cut my own hair + I drink coffee in whiskey glasses + I can't get used to paying attention to street lights.
I have a lot of names but what I do is somewhat chronicled in these websites:
HTTP://WWW.DISHWASHERSTUDIO.COM
HTTP://WWW.SINGLEREEL.ORG
Current Projects:
1: (in production) a feature film: 9/8
2: (in production) a short film: Mirrorless
3: (in progress) a play: The Big Sink
4: (always in progress) a long film of short parts: Libraries of Man
Mirrorless, I've got to talk to someone quick.
+
On muddy streets, I sometimes, stand still and think about these things, hoping that confetti will fall along with the snow:
+ The main question that needs no answer is: Are we trying to create a useless but commonsensical library of mankind?
+ Has the gardener fallen asleep or was there no gardener to begin with? Just a garden overflown with poison vine and wounded flowers dangling from trees. I know there's fence and a gate. Both can be jumped over with a blind horse.
+ The moon is made of cheese. Everyone knows it, no one is saying, because it makes them look silly.
+ The night is pleasing for one simple reason: it supresses idle details. (JLB) At night, there's only you, me and the others. The night accents the human. Voices mean more.
+ Most of the time, there's no need for a map. Just a blind horse will do.
+ If I could ask for one miracle, it would be to suspend a pair of dice in midair.
+ But I am not asking for a miracle. Magic is not the opposite of nonmagic.
+ I believe that whiskey is mine.
+ Robert Walser died alone in the middle of a field of snow just like the character in his first novel. Some riddles are not riddles at all. Not at all.
+ I believe that whiskey is mine. (Did I say that already?)
+ Sometimes if you think of time as circles of one-moment-behinds, everything seems clearer. As if the immediate past didn't happen yet. If you can roll life back a few moments, so much beauty is unrevealed.
+ I am only certain of one thing about the world and it is this: There is no difference between what is referred to as "reality" and "metaphor." None. Nada. If you can't trust and rely on metaphors, you are fucked. Truly and totally fucked. Your life will suck. Learn to give life to metaphors. All life is hidden there. Everything.
+ All good things are glass-caged.
WHEN I AM NOT STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF MUDDY STREETS AND WAITING FOR CONFETTI TO FALL, I MAKE FILMS. STILLS FROM 9/8:
She ain't no angel, she is just dancing.
There were others, glass-caged and pretty. Maybe I'll say hello, exchange money.
The ring will come.
Fire puts out water.
Do you love this? Do you?
We don't know what we're taking revenge from.
You ate the fish I didn't eat.