Posts Tagged ‘cinepoems’

Tempest

Sunday, January 18th, 2015

 

It’s been a long time.

A long, long, long time since there was a new cinépoem in the house. Two whole years, in fact.

So I’m beyond ecstatic to announce a new cinépoem featuring the lovely Lucette de Luna (for the second time) and introducing the gorgeous and frighteningly talented Caroline Augusta (a formidable artist in her own right.)

 

The new vid isn’t on this site, however… technology issues and the need for a whole new website redo, my webmaster tells me. But you can find it at the usual You Tube channel for all my cinépoems, and it will probably show up on vimeo before too long, as well.

 

Go take a gander, and if you want to read along, here’s the poem itself…

 

TEMPEST

There is nothing civilized
about love.

Not the way she does it…
a living thing
of hoof and horn
of dervish whirl
and lunar howl.

She abides in the eye of a season of storms
where there can be no allowance
for abnegation–ask her to deny herself
and you ask the moon to abandon the sky
and orbit instead around your shoelace.

Her love is unfit
for polite company.
prone to violence.
subject to squalls.
she goes in for a kiss
and takes out your eyes.

Society will not stand
for such barbarity, will demand
a dress code and Corinthians
which is, of course, a language
she has not learned to speak.

But then again, she will never
lie or vamp or hide
behind starched and lacquered protocol.

What you see is what she feels.
unrefined. unrestrained. undiluted.

She stomps feet, she seizes hearts
in sticky-fisted strangleholds,
then guards her stash like a dragon’s hoard
roaring MINE and MORE.

The best strategy for survival is to Get To Her First.
hunt hard and fast, chase her down softly
like a wild winged thing.
(Do not try to tame her.)

Gather the Tempest in your arms
and hold her close while she rages,
for in her wake follows
the most dazzling sunlight,
the likes of which exist
only in dreamscapes
and photoshop.

In all your days you will never again see
a love so true.

-Lo, who knows from experience.

Granny Dates

Friday, February 26th, 2010

mood: mild | drinking: h2o

looandreilly

There will be a big update coming soon, but for now I have only a few tidbits to offer. Tantalizing tidbits…

Up first, the good news that came this week: Our latest cinépoem, “Homogeneous” has been accepted into the Sacramento International Film Festival. It will be showing on the big screen on Monday, April 19th at 7pm. You can check it out live at the 24th Street Theater, 2491 24th Street in Sacramento.

And in other cinépoem news, my video partner Michelle and I are hard at work on the next release, an ambitious 8-part cinépoem titled, “The Tyranny of the Mirror.” We’ve recorded all the vocals and have shot 3 of the 8 vignettes so far. We’ll probably continue shooting throughout the next few months–our longest shoot ever, by far. But it takes some time to put this stuff together. It will be well worth the wait, I promise.

If you’re wondering what “Granny Dates” has to do with any of this, well, it doesn’t.

Granny Dates are outings that LeeLoo enjoys with her best fur pal Reilly, who is also an elderly lady of 12 years. The two old bags like to get together at the beach, act all excited about seeing each other for about 3 seconds and then proceed to completely ignore each other for an hour.

That’s how LeeLoo shows her love, I guess. She’s due for another big Granny Date tomorrow, and who knows if the world will survive all that excitement.

Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting over here on the couch watching the last of the Olympics. Oh yeah, and writing that “big update” I promised you.

-Lo, back to work.

All God’s children are not beautiful.

Friday, November 13th, 2009

mood: almost there | drinking: agua

homogeneous_startBreak out the confetti cannons. A new cinépoem has arrived.

I’d like to present the latest This Blank Page poetry production, Homogeneous, featuring the voice and face talents of the lovely Emanuela Quaglia and the always fabulous Jim Doll.

This is a cinépoem like no other. Not only because you get to actually hear from the guest stars, but also because we filmed it “in triplicate.” Just take a look, you’ll see what I mean. You can view it on The Cinépoems page or on YouTube. (If you do head over to YouTube, be sure to leave us a star or five, yeah?)

Thanks to my fellow compatriot, Michelle Brown for her continuing dedication to the art of cinépoetry, which sometimes includes getting in front of the camera, and also to Kathy Azada (who served as production assistant AND extra). And special shout outs to Melissa Fondakowski and Darren Rodriguez for their sparkling cameos.

Go. Watch. Enjoy.

-Lo, trying to make herself presentable.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

Mood: Diligent | Drinking: Soon

future

If you read that title and you’ve now got a Joss Whedon tune ringing in your ears, join the club. If not, well, congrats. You are not as big of a nerd as you think you are.

I, however, am a huge nerd. And I’m definitely feeling the “what’s next?” vibe, though not bursting into song just yet.

Every big undertaking (in this case, the revamp of this website) has a big payoff in the form of fluffy clouds of euphoria. But the payoff is usually promptly followed by a letdown. You’ve been so busy and so focused for so long, and now you’ve reached the pinnacle, you’ve achieved your goal. So then you start looking for the next mountaintop. You start wondering where you’re gonna go next.

I never have a shortage of artistic ambition. A lack of energy, time, and direction, yes. But never a lack of hare-brained schemes.

Fortunately, the post-project dip is a shallow one this time. I’m already on to the next thing — this Saturday, in fact, which is the first of 3 or 4 non-consecutive days of cinépoem shooting. We start filming Homogeneous this weekend, with fearless volunteers Jimmy and Emanuela, who have already recorded some pretty badass vocal tracks.

Homogeneous is one of the most ambitious cinépoems Shel and I have done so far, although this one doesn’t involve any bunny suits or fake blood. It’s a three-parter and involves some tricky coordination, so it might be awhile before the finished product makes a grand debut. But it will be worth the wait.

I have a few other ideas up my sleeve as well. It’s only been 2 years since The Secrets of Falling came off the presses, but I’m starting to have dangerous ideas about a new printed piece.

And there are always new small projects, postcards and prints and things, to do with Kathy. So I’m in no danger of being bored.

Meanwhile, beyond this website and all the fun poetry projects it encompasses, life continues to move and change in new and strange ways. Boy and I have decisions to make, but it’s one of those domino things where one leads to another which leads to another, but you can’t go anywhere until the first domino falls. I’ll let you know where they land… when they land.

Speaking of all that’s new and fun, what do you think of the new site? Comments are open now, remember? Be sure to leave your mark. How else will I know that you’ve been here?!

-Lo, who thinks that 39-year-old straight white dudes who are tone deaf should not walk around the office singing Beyonce, if they want to maintain their dignity.

I’d Give My Wrist a Little Twist

Tuesday, May 9th, 2006

Mood: Mild with a chance of showers
Drinking: Black tea, with ice and sugar

You know how you go through life, oblivious to everything unless it means something to you? Like you never noticed how many sky blue Celicas there were in the world until you, yourself, owned a sky blue Celica. You never noticed how cute brown Boxer dogs were until you, yourself, knew a brown Boxer. You never noticed insert your own example here.

The same is true, I am discovering, of injuries. I never really noticed my fellow un-whole humans on the train or sidewalk or checkout line until I was sporting a broken wrist, a surgery scar, and a nifty fiberglass cast. Now I see the injured everywhere. The guy on the skateboard last night who had no legs. The man across the train with the crippled hand. The blind girl waiting at the bus stop. So many of us who are obviously, externally, “not right”.

I know I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m getting better. I have the potential and the power to be well. And I hope that getting well doesn’t mean losing this newfound sight. This more compassionate way of moving through the world. This realization of how much pain a person can carry around while the world walks on by, unaware.

My cast is long gone, and I gave away the wrist brace. I’m walking around with a naked wrist because it’s the best way to get better. I have a therapist who sees me twice a week to talk skulls (we both have collections) and massage my tired tendons and fit me with new “torture devices” that force my pinky finger to bend and my fist to clench and my wrist to leeeean just a little further each time. I’m learning new words like “pronation” and “supination” and I’ve found that 58 degrees of flexion is better, but not as good as 80.

My broken bones are healed, but my scars have memory, and they slow me down. I am so much better than I was a few weeks ago, and a few weeks from now I’ll bend even further. But it’s slow. It’s progress measured by small pressures and incremental degrees.

I can’t ride my motorcycle yet, but I can open a pickle jar. I can’t twist a doorknob, but I can button my own jeans again. I can’t hold my left hand out for change at the cash register, but I can hold Boy’s hand without wincing. Progress.

This whole unexpected interlude has been wonderfully and awfully strange. I’ve been amazed a thousand times over at the complexity of the body, at the domino effect of this injury. And though I’d never willingly choose to go through all this again, I’ve discovered things I never would have otherwise. No real surprise there–that’s how life always seems to work, yes?

And even though I feel like I lost a few months since February, even though I’m barely getting back to normal, I have high hopes and big plans of catching up.

So in the spirit of catching up, we’ve got two new cinepoems on the calendar. We’re shooting one this weekend and another the next, both in really cool new locations. And I’ve been buried in details for a photo shoot for Book #2, also this weekend. The talented and lovely Patti Monaghen is flying out from Chicago with her camera, just for me. The blank pages are filling up. Stay tuned…

-Lo, who always looks forward to the hot wax part of therapy.

The Sun’ll Come Out…

Wednesday, April 5th, 2006

Mood: Anticipating
Drinking: Diet Coke

Tomorrow!

The cast is coming off and I’ll get to start flexing the new robot arm. Sure, it’ll be scaly and mummified, but it will be free. I’ll be a two-hand girl once more.

Meanwhile, all you PC people can rejoice. My kick-ass friend and wizard EO has transformed the cinepoems to Windows Media movies, and kick-ass friend #2, CB, has uploaded them all to the Cinepoems page. So go, feast your eyes. And rest assured that there are not one but TWO new cinepoems in the works and on the calendar for later this month and next month, too.

I have to go pick the scales from my arm. Nasty, yes, but oh-so-satisfying.

-Lo, who used to know all the words to all the Annie songs.

And So It Ends…

Saturday, December 31st, 2005

Mood: Intact
Drinking: Sweet tea

Another year. Another new year’s eve. Another one of these.

I just can’t be bothered to get all aflutter about this one. Actually, I can hardly ever be bothered when it comes to this holiday on the heels of Christmas. It’s just so anticlimactic.

You’ve got all the bustle and hubbub of Christmas. The giving and getting of presents. The finding of trees. The unpacking of glass baubles. The baking of cookies and reunions of relatives and cross-country flights jam packed with winter coats and unfamiliar boots and squalling, squealing children.

And then suddenly it’s all over and you’re back at home and you toss the tree (which is now a veritable tinderbox) to the curb and all the baubles go back in their boxes and then you’re supposed to have one last hurrah with the bubbly and the countdown and the funny little hats and no one ever asks if Dick Clark is some kind of well-preserved zombie/vampire type creature.

I just can’t muster any excitement for it.

Truth be told, I always get a bit depressed this time of year. This end of a year. Everyone gets all hopeful with resolution and big plans for the new four-digit number but really, who are they kidding. They won’t have lost any weight or cleaned out the attic or stopped being so crabby with coworkers when the new year ends again. It’s just how we are. Who we are.

Don’t count me among the hopeless, though. I know this whole glittering new year is an important ritual, a bright shiny thing, for many. I get it. It’s just that I’d rather find my hope in the everyday kind of day, instead of load all my portent on this one winter night, on this one chime of clock, on this one midnight dream. There are so many others coming…

Oh, I’ve got plans. I’ve got resolutions. I’ve even squirreled a few predictions away. But I’ve had them all for quite awhile. And I’m not giving them up anytime soon.

So let them go on with their music video countdown and year in review broadcasts and 2006 predictions. I’m going to sit here in my living room with my cup of tea as if it’s any other night and tomorrow is any other day. Because it is, really. It just is.

-Lo, who will review 2005 just by saying that at this time last year, cinepoems were just an idea. Now there are six. Pause for the warm glow of pride… Four. Three. Two. One.