Write up:
This assignment has greatly strengthened my sense of detail. My original intention was to go out for a walk and write about something, anything that I saw occur. I ended up trying to pick through my brain and narrow it down to 1 story and then write 3 different parts. Storyboard is decent, you get the point at least.
Part 1: The Habit
It was the kind of morning that doesn’t even come late. The kind of morning that doesn’t come, because the queen-size, pillow-top mattress that rests on a king-size, Sealy mattress feels too good to awake from. If I had only stayed in bed, what now seems like a dream to me today wouldn’t be reality. With great struggle, my legs began to slide off the edge of the bed. With one pair of brown sandals, a pair of khaki shorts, a cold, sleeveless t-shirt from the bedroom floor, a blue Nautica jacket, two hand cannons at a net worth of one- thousand, nine hundred dollars, one of which was tucked in my waist and the other strapped to my back, below my shoulder, and a black duffle bag, weighing approximately twelve pounds, I proceeded out the front door. The kind of day where habit overrides any doubt or fear and the mere thought of a problem occurring doesn’t exist. As my car door slammed shut in front of a populated, Mid-town sub shop, I was reminded that I could take as long as I desired, for the type of job I had never came with deadlines. The stretch of highway in front of me seemed to know me better than ever, and as it opened up for me I turned into the left lane and continued down the road. As my destination became close, I turned off the ever-familiar stretch of concrete and passed a bright, orange gas station. Why was there an unmarked, white car pulling out of the almost deserted parking lot, I thought, and better yet why were they following me so closely? Then, suddenly, the gray road I was driving on, turned blue. As the fierce, blue-lit enforcer proceeded to pull me over, I calmly reached under my arm and released the buttoned-snap that held a Kimber, nineteen-eleven under my shoulder and quickly placed it in the crack between the driver seat and the door.
Part 2: The Stench
What seemed to be a perfectly normal routine to me, seemed to be a real hassle to try and explain to an enforcer of the law such as this man. He stood six-foot tall and to me appeared to resemble the Devil. On his back was a black t-shirt and on his legs, a pair of old, worn-out, blue jeans. As I heard footsteps drawing closer to the front of the car, I wondered to myself, had I been set up? Did the tall man approaching my vehicle already know what was in the black duffle bag? I took one incredibly deep breath and postured myself in an upright position. As I began to roll down the window, the smell of the air changed with his presence. Instead of the once existing piney smell coming from my trunk, the air filled my nostrils with a fowl stench of black coffee and donuts. The bacon had arrived, and I felt as if I was on my deathbed.
Part 3: The Fuck Off
This place was much colder than the ride over, and at this point in the game, I had become used to the position that my arms were placed. The air smelled of old offices and paper clips. In the room sat a single, up-right chair that I was attached to. I could her voices from the hallway laughing and talking about how screwed I was and all I could think about is how I wasn’t going to give these pigs a single thing. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked the man that pulled me over in the white car. As he stepped towards me, I could here the splashes of sweat dripping from his face onto the floor. This only led me to wonder if he was doing laps from the excitement of a great bust or if he was just frightened to think of the gun collection found in my house. “ You do realize what kind of time your going to be doing if you don’t help us out right? Just tell us who you were taking it too and getting it from, and we’ll let you drive right out of here.” Although, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, the thought of working for the police and helping them bring down my friends was the last thing on my mind. As I sat in the cold, uncomfortable seat, all I could think about was the fact that they had no clue where the safe house was, which happened to contain many more pounds of the leafy substance they obtained from the trunk of my car. I looked at the man in a great deal of respect, and then told him to fuck off.
place write up
This ended up being a lot better of a movie than I thought it would. I had problems with the sound (I forgot to tweak the gain on the audio box) Anyways I guess that’s the idea: realize what you did wrong and fix it. I do plan to re shoot the sound sometime soon. This short film of Memphis just might lead to a full-length mockumentary of the city we all love and hate so much.
Place3
I have a well sense of place. My place in this world, the place I have to live in for the time being, my place in history and my place in peoples lives today. People have been shaping this place we live in since the beginning of time, since society has become conformed and shaped to the place that we have built. There are definitely more places to explore in a creative mind.
Place2
As I place my art into the world, I think of the place i will have on the bus when it arrives, accompanied by a new place of leisure. A place where no one knows my face, because this is no longer the time or place. Maybe, just maybe then my cards will fall in place.
Place
Place is everything. My placement in this city has made me who I am today. Moving to a different place, say Oregon would completely change my life. It is always my place to decide to act on what I feel is best for myself and that places me in a small percentage of the world. My place in this world is creation.
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