YOU CAN'T UNTELL A TALE
YOU CAN'T OUT-SLOW A SNAIL
i attended my second yoga class this weekend, which was curiously harder for me than the first class. the arrogance of letting seven days elapse without any exercise or preparation caught up with me. i had eaten two slices of day-old pizza for breakfast that morning; i fell out of several poses with an ungraceful thud. i even hurt my hand a little. strange to feel your muscles start shaking.
watched WOMAN IN THE DUNES and couldn't stop staring at kyoko kishida--there are angles from which we look remarkably alike. the basic organization of her features is the same, anyway: big lips, big eyes, dark hair. sometimes i would squint when she came on screen to blur the distinction between us even more. i imagined myself as a real actress for the first time.
rhan just told me that ingmar bergman had nine children with five different wives, and that he had little interest in being a father at all. he simply removed himself from it, choosing instead to live alone on some isle someplace. this only confirms for me that there is no such thing as the "right way" to live your life.
CHONTO, dir. CARSON MELL, 2007.
an excellent use of thirteen minutes.