we kiss all these people in hopes that we will ever feel like we are kissing ourselves.
—
(march 20th, the “birthday”)
the thing is
and will forever remain
that words keep me company
they are touchstones
and fortune tellers
they are blankets
and potions
they are what i lean on
when there is nothing left
when there is only possibility
probability
optimum trajectory
a path of breadcrumbs
leading me back
something to hold on to
and something to look for
they are the tunnel
and the light
always available
waiting like children
raising their hands
hoping i will call on them
for answers
and questions
they are the intersection
of knowing
and hoping to know
and for that
words
will always remain
my most divine lover
and love
they speak to me
when no one else will
and i hear them
when everything else
is empty
words, they are forever
now
an expression of self
at my fingertips
forever
now
–
another dance around the sun
and here i am
waiting to be done
[wow, that was a little dark. at least i'm still dancing around the sun. the time to worry is when i stop dancing.]
—
(note to self, from another date, but how i feel today)
choose the beliefs that you prefer and like, because they feel good, better, best. reality is relative. there is no reality that is any more real or valid than another (Bashar). there is no question that you feel best when thinking and believing in a certain thing (TUT). therefore, choose that. because there is no answer that is definitive, except for that which i choose. even if it is a coping mechanism, so is anything else. there is no REAL, real-er reality. there is no absolute TRUTH, except that i am here. beyond that, is my choice, as even that is.
—
the first time i saw this photo, i was a very different person, in a very different place. seeing it now reminds me of how different i am. it asks me how different i am. i love it for different reasons. and some of the same reasons, too.
Photo by Chris Anthony - http://chrisanthony.viewbook.com/
I’m thick in the middle of post, nearing the mix for Among Friends. Also been moving forward in development on It’s All Love. With no time to spare to even go to the grocery store or bathroom half the time, I figured now would be a good time to finally get One Man’s Trash up on youtube ;) I guess I’ve been thinking about my roots as a filmmaker… and needed a good laugh. Maybe you do, too. Enjoy!
ONE MAN’S TRASH: A look inside the lives of yard sale fanatics.
Written and Directed by: Alyssa Lobit; Produced by: Athena Lobit
Starring: Cami Black, Eric Espinoza, Donna Grayson, Chris Hink, Dagney Kerr, Tom Jermain, Alana Lobit, Alyssa Lobit, Jason Stiff, Renee Weltzien and introducing Chantlo the Chihuahua.
Inspired by life and Christopher Guest, Best in Show, Waiting For Guffman and This Is Spinal Tap.
This was the first short I shot with the Canon XL1, after tearing through Rodriguez’s Rebel Without A Crew. It’s fucking hilarious. I’m not bragging about my skills here: The actors really brought life to these characters and a lot of the script was improvised. It really deserves to be a feature length film. But let me finish up a few things first…
i can’t divulge how i came to reconnect with this song or i will out myself as a total geek, but god damn, this is a good one! also, as unrelated as this video featuring race-car-driving, i recently drove a nascar. full suit and gear, strapped into the car like i was literally part of it. i had a moment where i got claustrophobic… when they pinned the netting into the side window and i couldn’t see anything except a narrow, hazy, rectangular view straight in front of me. i thought, “i don’t know if i can do this.” i almost puked. i almost screamed and asked them to let me out. instead, i took a long, deep breath that lasted for what felt like the last one, and said internally, “no. i will do this. i may die. i don’t know. but i’m going to go with where i find myself at this moment. i am going to be right here and do this”–which happened to be wedged into a car that, by the way, is built to fly apart on impact, such that i would conceivably be unharmed if i crashed. sounds like life… supernova steez.
this looks like a yoga pose. i bet yogis looked to trees for poses… i think trees are planet earth’s wisest beings, having figured out how to be still and yet grow at the same time.
Alyssa Lobit is an Academy Nicholl Fellowships Quarterfinalist with the award-winning indie drama The Things We Carry, placing in the top 5% of 5,050 entries in this prestigious screenplay competition. The Things We Carry marked her debut as both writer and lead actress in a feature.
The Things We Carry screened at 18 festivals, including Boston, Hollywood, Atlanta and Wisconsin, winning several awards at the Wild Rose Independent Film Festival (Best Feature, Best Actress, Best Screenplay), Best Narrative at the Flyway Film Festival and the Audience Award at the San Francisco United Film Festival. A highlight of the festival tour was screening at the iconic Hollywood Arclight for two sold-out shows.
Alyssa made her debut as a director and producer with the comedy One Man’s Trash, which won the Los Angeles Flickering Image Film Fest and was a finalist in the highly competitive IndieProducer Contest. Alyssa has received critical acclaim for her stage performances, including recognition for a “standout performance” in the World Premiere of Slow Boat and an LA Weekly nod for her performance in Night Coil. She has appeared in several short films that have screened and won awards at festivals across the country, as well as several commercials. She graduated cum laude from U.C.L.A. with a B.A. in English.
Alyssa recently wrapped production on her second writing/acting feature endeavor, Among Friends, directed by horror Scream Queen Danielle Harris.
first day of shooting on Among Friends is tomorrow! :D let’s see how a world looks once it’s been pushed out of my brain and through my fingertips. more colorful, more detailed… more bloody? weeeeeheeeeeee!~
so that script i blogged about a little bit ago is in pre-production! it seems like we were working towards this milestone for so long, but it’s only been a couple months. weird how time is like silly putty. i wonder if space is, too ;)
i printed out my script today and got all nerdy with it, as i like to do. this helps me with my anxiety, but there’s also something deeper at play. each day before we shoot a scene, i’ll take the cute leetel mini post-it off. by the day we wrap, there will be none. it’s this odd but physical reflection of the work i do as an actress. because you know, you’re shooting and shooting and there’s nothing really to show for it yet. but when i look at a clean-edged script, i can see that, i don’t know… that i did something.
it’s time to go down another rabbit hole. i’m looking at it and i can’t see the bottom, which is both thrilling and terrifying. there’s this voice down there that i can only hear with my heart, telling me to jump. perhaps that’s just my own echo? either way, here i go…….
“[T]here is no way writers can be tamed and rendered civilized. Or even cured. In a household with more than one person, of which one is a writer, the only solution known to science is to provide the patient with an isolation room, where he can endure the acute stages in private, and where food can be poked in to him with a stick. Because, if you disturb the patient at such times, he may break into tears or become violent…
No one enjoys writing… There is no way to stop. Writers go on writing long after it becomes financially unnecessary… because it hurts less to write than it does not to write.”
- Robert A. Heinlein
Dr. Richard Ames, The Cat Who Walks Through Walls
* * * * * * *
at the moment, it’s torture (that’s a little inside joke with myself). but i have this annoying drive to see it through to completion. o, how much easier it would be to hit delete and never think of this current script again! alas, i’ve dilly-dallied long enough and it’s time to catch the tiger by the tail. somehow, looking at this superdoggy pic gives me a sense of peace and calm. see ya in hell, bitchez.
There’s a woman in Ireland who’d give me a gem and my fill to drink,
There’s a woman in Ireland to whom my singing is sweeter than the music of strings
There’s a woman in Ireland who would much prefer me leaping
Than laid in the clay and my belly under the sod
There’s a woman in Ireland who’d envy me if I got naught but a kiss
From a woman at a fair, isn’t it strange, and the love I have for them
There’s a woman I’d prefer to a battalion, and a hundred of them whom I will never get
And an ugly, swarthy man with no English has a beautiful girl
There’s a woman who would say that if I walked with her I’d get the gold
And there’s the woman of the shirt whose mien is better than herds of cows
With a woman who would deafen baile an mhaoir and the plain of tyrone
And I see no cure for my disease but to give up the drink
