I've fallen down my editorial calendar train. It's strange that no poems want to grace me with their preferences. So instead of attempting to be poetic, I'm going to replay a bit of a conversation I had recently.
We were discussing ideas for a one minute film. I was feeling a bit melodramatic and opened one of the doors to a place I call "la la land." It's almost like a typical la la land, where people go off to explore bliss. Except, that mine is a bit different. It is the place where all ideas originate, the land where my muses and I meet.
In this land, nothing is what it seems; yet it's nothing more than what it is. You start out with blackness. Not like a dark screen or a room with the lights out; no not night either. You start with black paint oozing onto black space. We zoom into the black paint to find ourselves littered in glitter. And bright shiny objects! Circles, bubbles, orbs. A background noise calls for our attention. It grows louder as the clock ticks. At first, it sounds like children laughing.
But, we soon realize that it's children screaming. Screaming into a procession of drums, more screaming. Drums, screaming.
Then quiet. The sun shines over the black paint and a bouncing electric song fills our senses. The light electronic grooves transform into dark electronic tones. And shit fucks itself up. Explosions, death, destruction; misery. And out of the rubbery paint, butterflies emerge to the tune and fly over the horizon.
And that's only one door, or one minute. It gets worse and it gets better. But, I never venture in there for long. Because, that would be insane and I'm not ready to be insane yet.