Also

Last night I had a strange dream. (sorry I realized that I wanted to keep writing, to spill this out on a page before I forget all of it. It goes like this:

The night before I get a call from my mother and she tells me she got me a plane ticket to New York and that I would leave at three a.m. that night. For some reason I questioned it, Not just questioned it, I screamed at her (mom, this is by no means a reason never to buy me a plane ticket to New York) Sure, normal Dustin would question this but I think he would jump at the chance. Cut to me arriving very early in the morning to my friends neighborhood in Brooklyn. I couldn't or didn't talk to him, but instead I saw a stationary store. It was right next to the cafe where his girlfriend used to work part time. I really wanted a pen. It was snowing. I went inside with the one duffel bag I had with me. It had just one glass case and a pen where you refilled the ink very methodically. There was a French Girl working the counter and doing just that. She unapologetically said "bonjour" and went about her business. I was entranced and stood there watching her work. Then, with ink stained hands she held out the pen for me. I had been watching her for a few minutes so I thought I knew what I was doing. She watched me do it once then grabbed my hand a guided me, wordlessly, breathlessly. After that, she let me work. I was transferring the ink for one box that was the stores into a smaller one. After her foreign hello, she said nothing and I followed suit. It took a long time, I was transferring the ink one drop at a time. I remember the first few drops. The patterns they made on the light brown of the wood as they spattered and stayed. Then I saw the pool rise and felt accomplished. Think of dipping a straw into water about half an inch then capping one end, holding it and releasing it into another glass of water. I saw her smile, she said I was a natural.

I remember that smile, it was lazy with a hint of pride. We fell asleep together. It was exhausting and I hadn't yet watched the sun rise. I never thought it strange that she had mattresses all around her shop, behind the counter. We I awoke I wasn't alone with her. She wasn't there. It was rather a scene out of an independent film about music. Topless, bearded men in trucker hats, women with tights and suspenders, married people who looked thirteen in ironic t-shirts, brightly colored ray ban wearers. And they were all mad.

"Who the hell are you?"
"What the fuck do you think you are doing here?"
"You can't just crash here, man."
They screamed, but their eyes squinted quickly as they remembered their hangovers. I stood up on a mattress or a chair that faced all of them.
"Look I just got in from San Francisco and I saw this place and came in and I filled ink, or whatever with Slyviana, (I will never forget that name) then crashed. I woke up and you were all here."
"Get the fuck out." I grabbed my bag and left. I think it was still early in the morning. One of the guys, now fully clothed came after me. He started pushing. I yelled and said that I was leaving and I'm sorry. He threw a punch at me and missed. I threw one and hit him square in the face. Then something took a hold of me and I hit him again. He was swinging wildly and I realized he was about twice my size, but I kept knocking him back. My Brooklynite friend found me and I ran over to him.(Side note, isn't it strange how "ran over to him" the phrasing of the word, isn't gay but if I were to say "I ran to him" it would be. Prepositions are amazing.) So I ran over to him and was all excited and told him few details. The main point I wanted to express was that I found out I was good at fighting. Now at this point other guys had come out and were even more angry that I beat up the previous guy, along with crashing at their place without notice. He was game and we joined back into a fray.

Cut to running into a concrete structure. (These have been showing up a lot lately.) I think more people came out. We were laughing and I lit up a cigarette. I grabbed him by the shoulders, with the cigarette in my teeth and looked into his face. I was grinning, wide eyed. I started hopping and whooping. I leaned back and screamed. Tim did the same. With our now bruised faces, I threw my arm around him and we walked off into the distance.

What the Hell does it all mean? And where did Sylviana go? French Girls.

Dustin

A day late

Alright, so I watched The Oscars. I have to say that the lead up was deflating faster than a Happy Birthday balloon eight days later. Like I said it felt like a chore to watch all the movies. Deadlines do just that, they kill it. What was supposed to be a fun achievement meant not much once it was said and done. True, I might be feeling different if I had actually gone through with seeing all of them. I will say that I watched more than most. There were some fantastic movies last year. I saw so many that I can't really tell you the ones I thought should have made it but didn't. However, I would like to propose a new category: Best independent film. I know that there are special festivals for this kind of thing, and inevitably films like "The Hurt Locker," which was an independent film, might not have gotten best picture. But I think it would expose more of the Hollywood elite to more trailblazing films. Money doesn't dictate great films, in fact more often than not, it kills them in the spirit of the almighty dollar. "The Hurt Locker" was the lowest grossing film to capture the best picture statue. I am proud to say that I predicted the winner, walking back to Dave's after watching the film, I said it. So, cut the best picture category back down to five and add best independent film. This is just one man, with no power in Hollywood's thought. I might get a few people to agree.

Actually this has given me an opportunity to examine how I view movies, individually and overall. Do I want to sit down to a movie like "The Book of Eli" with a critic's eye or a movie goer's eye. Do I want to disassemble the plot of "Avatar," or would I rather sit back and enjoy the cold Iccee in my left hand while being amazed at the floating 3-D objects that seem mere inches from my face? Do I want to contemplate if I really buy into Clooney as a lonely man of the sky or simply smile at Brad Pitt leading a rouge group of soldiers in a baseball bat swinging, swastika carving romp through Europe? Well, I guess I need more research and that means more movies. I think the next one I'll see is the far from intellectual horror flick "The Crazies," Or perhaps a 3-D adventure in a wonderland.

Dustin

At the start of the day,

I had ten movies to watch. It was not a good idea to leave all or most of the foreign films to last because I am sick, and as my sister mentioned, I had a lot of reading today. The bad thing is, my mind cannot function as it normally would. I was able to get through three films; one Italian, another Peruvian, and another one French. Since I am sick I had to sleep for a few hours and that could have been another movie. I'm not sure I will make it through all of them tomorrow, but if I don't watch the Harry Potter movie, that's fine by me. I have neither read any of the books nor watched any of the movies in that series. So, tomorrow I have seven movies to watch and hopefully I will find the time to make it through all of them. If I don't succeed, then it isn't the end of the world. It's a good thing that we all don't live in action movies. What we do for ourselves really doesn't have any bearing on other people. That's fine by me. No one has forced me to undertake this mission, as I have been calling it. In terms of what I want, I would much rather not be sick than have missed a few movies.


Dustin

About

two more days until the oscars. I am excited and underwhelmed. I think it will not be as rewarding as I hope, but one never knows. I am very much looking forward to next week, when I get my afternoon schedule back. Although, I will miss the morning teachers. I emplore you all to move to the afternoon, it's sunnier there. After next week I will have a, and I hate this word, staycation. I do have plans, big plans. I want to see as many live shows as possible. I haven't been to one in a while. Also I am looking to expand my social circle, but I'm not sure how to do this. How does one make freinds, outside of work school, etc? I barely made any friends in College. It was pretty easy, I just avoided it. I think that I'm a likable person. Anyone want to go with me on a week long, music and booze bender? I'm sure it will be pretty tame. I might make it to more than one show, but knowing myself, it's not likely. I will see The Big Pink next week. That should be great. I have gotten to the point where I am just rambling, so I am going to stop, take a shower and sleep. Good morning.

Dustin

So, I bought a Flip camera. It's HD and very easy to use. I made another video in about fifteen minutes, including the upload time. I used a song from the band Why?. It's a short view of my house, mainly my kitchen. I just made it to test out the camera and Apple's Imovie, which is ridiculously easy to use. It's very strange, when I was working on this i didn't think about anything else. I was entirely focused on what I was doing with my computer and forgot about everything else. I know I have a long way to go and still consider this just a hobby but I feel that the more creative things I participate in, the better. Luckily, you all are along for the ride. I tried to upload it to here, but that was taking forever. So I will supply the link to youtube. Even for a 44 second video it is still 20 MB. I hope you all enjoy this and see it a just a tiny sample of what's to come. Up next, Dave, Steve, Justin and I are going to make a Kaplan rap video. And we are going to do everything ourselves, the music, the song, the filming and everything else that we can think of. once again, I hope you all enjoy this and have a good day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfdOWfKTxgE

Dustin

Have you

ever woken up so tired that you feel like you are still asleep? I did that today. The first hour I felt I was trudging through the street on the bus, off the bus, down the block. It felt like I was moving so slowly. People weren't passing me by, but I know my normal speed and this was not it. You know in the movies when the camera is focused on one person, but thousands of people rush by as a blur. That feeling has stayed with me all day, at my heels. I saw it, and it winked at me. It knows something that I am not privy to. I know it will go away, search for other food, but it is a reminder of what to expect. These days we are only certain of ourselves. The time we have in this earth is fading with every breath. However, I once heard that we are all sharing the breaths of Caesar. So too, I share my breath until the end of time. I share it will all of you, even if you are hundreds or thousands of miles away. We breath Plato, Cleopatra, our grandparents, our friends, lovers, ex-lovers. When you look into the stars or at the sand and feel small and impermanent, just breathe and you will have shared life with everyone.