Headbirth

About four weeks ago, I decided that I was going to teach myself to meditate. By, you know, reading up on it a bit and practising every day. That lasted for about two days. I really would like to be able to meditate, I think if I forced my brain into a regimen of this kind of focus that I'd be a more relaxed person and generally feel more in control. These days, it's too hard to differentiate between meditation and sleep. Or, you know, not let one slip into the other.

But to that end, I have been trying to think of an idea for a script, and given my serious misgivings about the inauthenticity of most of the stuff we see on screens these days, and given the fact that I recently printed up the Dogme 95 Vow of Chastity and stuck it to my wall, it is not such an easy thing to dream up a producable (and that's KEY) short script that is at once hyper-realistic and complete fantasy at the same time.

And yet, it's like I wrote my order down and popped it into a slot in my head and three days later I get an idea. Because I did, last night, get an idea. To the point where I had to wake up a little and get my notebook and write it down (I also discovered that my room is so small I can get my book off the shelf, my pen out of my bag and crack a window to let some light through all without getting out of bed).

When I was around 13 or so I had the sensation that my brain was a seperate entity from me. Like: I didn't think of that, my brain did. That sensation has faded, but sometimes it still pops up. Sometimes I'm still proud of the way my brain recombines things into different things when I'm not looking and then pops them out fully formed. Like Athena! From the head of Zeus! What an idea!