Unwritten map to sea

Late afternoon shadows
cast onto your back
as you walked down the sidewalk,
the leaves flashing
across your white shirt
scrolling upwards as you moved away
like your own end credits...
- EVH, Missed Opportunities

In the time that's passed since June of this year, I have completed two short films, May Dailies and Wealth and Work, 12 minutes and 7 minutes respectively. Since February of 2005, The Drift, which has been what I've been most proud of, had the most difficulty with, and am the most frightened of, remains unfinished.

Since beginning this blog, I thought it would essentially motivate me to progress, push me to finish this movie as I documented my most difficult moments, or times of joy. Well, that seemed to have failed. I am not finished and wonder if I ever will be.

I don't really have to finish, I've discovered. It may matter to my friends and to those who I have interviewed for this film. But for myself, the struggle to piece this film together has been all consuming, unnerving, and a near impossibility. I have tried, for sure. But this is such an enormous effort, one in which my attention cannot completely take control of, that I am daunted by the work to be done, and upset that I can't do it alone. I can't hire post-production assistants, editors, or anyone else. I'm in this alone, and in my head, I can see a finished film. Why go beyond that?

I am really trying to finish, though, but can't find the momentum to do so. I have a handful of half-finished scenes, alternate beginnings, and, if I may, some good intentions. But the energy isn't there anymore. I've been so emotionally involved, that The Drift exists as some kind of wild abstraction or a medical condition I can treat with pills. Yeesh.

It doesn't help that I may not have enough material or that there's a good possibility that people may never see this. At this point, I don't need to finish for myself, but some kind of goal would help. But what? Festivals? Eh.

It may come down to me having to not finish at all. I really, really don't want that to be the case. But this entire film is out of my control, because I couldn't really guide it through, couldn't give it the care it needed at times, and perhaps, don't see how it could ever be truly finished. There's an end, yes, and perhaps a beginning. But I haven't been clear-headed enough to fill in the middle.

So, as previous posts, you, dear reader, may gather that this journal is more or less a cataloguing of failures, which is unfortunate but true. I hope that it may be something else, someday. Right now though, it accurately reflects what I am dealing with. But maybe for not much longer.