“Study the past if you would divine the future.”
- Confucius
This little gem is a product of Campus Movie Fest. Please mind that this was done over three years ago: Patrique in the younger years. My friend Julia and I had one week to put together a movie, and we decided to focus on the seven deadly sins. Well, I should say I had a push to focus on the seven deadly sins.
Still, I’m rather proud of it, if only because I was able to bring my friends together to create something. And, finding this online reminds me of the reasons why I want to do films. The memories of filming each scene. Trying to work out the logistics of filming, with everyone’s schedule. The need to improve my acting abilities.
The entire process was just a lot of fun. When I find myself in a creative slump, I’ve found the best remedy is to surround myself with products from the past. Pages and pages of poetry strewn about my room. Shades of different colors on various textures intermingled with the bits of poetic delights. Canvasses of art work begging for completion or contemplation. Also in various hues, mixed in with the textures and bits of poetry. My hope is often if I can create a maelstrom of creativity, then lightening will strike. As it often does.
And, in addition to putting on my pants, surrounding myself with past accomplishments helps to overcome creative slumps and low points. The internal self talk that used to run rampant, in the variety of “what do you think you’re doing?” , “what have you accomplished? nothing?”, or “you’re a hack. mediocre at best,” is instead replaced with reminders of things I have done, ways I’d like to improve, and ideations on how to get there.
In therapy, once, I mentioned to my counselor that when I was feeling a bit down I would go back and read my journals from other times when I felt down. She asked me “Does it help or does it only fuel the spiral down?” My initial reaction was ambivalence. I sat in silence for a moment until I answered that reading my journals helps me to understand where my mind has been, and that those moments I was feeling depressed passed. Going back into the past helps to remind me that this too shall pass. It is as though my collective body of work turns into Gandolf the Grey fighting the dark demon attempting to cross the bridge. The body of my collective work raises its staff and proclaims “You shall not pass.” At least, that is the visual I have in my head when I surround myself with momentos of cabernet, tangerine, sapphire and ferns.
In the maelstrom of my collective works from the past, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Wilde, Fitzgerald and Hemingway come out of the ether, reach down onto the ground where my halo has fallen, and places the crown back atop my head.
«Eh! quoi! vous ici, mon cher? Vous, dans un mauvais lieu! vous, le buveur de quintessences! vous, le mangeur d’ambroisie! En vérité, il y a là de quoi me surprendre. »
- Charles Baudelaire ” Perte d’auréole/ Loss of a Halo“
In reviewing the past, I can say Baudelaire saved my life. In more ways than one. Baudelaire came along at a low point, and spoke to me about all the terrible things in the world. Les fleurs du mal. But inside the flowers of evil were beautiful gems, of living a life sans regrette. Rien. He told me to get drunk, and I spent two years getting drunk, first on wine, then poetry, and now virtue. My own Baudelaire, well we sang in the middle of the night walking next to the Seine after reading Baudelaire to each other and Ingrid. We sang “Your Song” at the top of our lungs, not giving a damn who in all of Paris heard. She divining Baudelaire and I divining Hemingway. At any rate, this letter is now turning into an homage to Baudelaire and how he saved my life, but I believe there’s a place for that in my next letter.
As this year quickly draws to a close, and I chant in my head “2008 was great; 2009 will be divine” I can’t help but turn to the past. To review how far I’ve come. To know it is ok if I dance like Josephine Baker in my skirt made of bananas, combined with Ziz Jeanmaire, doing my own little dance, talking like Marlene Dietrich and Bette Davis if I please (get me drunk off wine and I adopt a british accent, for some reason); knowing fully well there are, in fact, diamonds on the soles of my shoes. Remind me to tell you the story of the time I had the honor of meeting and knowing the most beautiful dimond in the world. She was friends with Andy Warhol incarnate. And for a short while she stayed in Waterford Palace. She too had diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
We all must dance our own dance, never minding who is watching or what others may say. And knowing in my head there are miles to go before I sleep. Light years, in fact.
I have this terrible tendency to withdraw whenever I’m faced with incredible stress. It’s a really nasty habit; almost as nasty as my smoking habit. While avoidance is a great temporary solution, it is not a permanent solution to my problems. The only way to permanently deal with my problems is to actually address the things that are causing me stress, and figure out resolution to those problems.
Dear La Baker,
for the others to whom you bring inspiration. Yes, the secret that laid in your heart, perhaps, is the same secret that lies in mine. We do not belong to ourselves, but sacrifice ourselves on the altar of art. Every step, every diamond necklace, every glance of the eye is done with intent. We belong to the Muses and Genii.
From what I’ve been told, the production is in need of those interested in auditioning. The project sounds like it is going to be very interesting. Just from talking/email correspondence with the writer and director there’s a desire to change the perception of being black and being gay.
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