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image by MoiSanom
Let me tell you how much I love seeing shit like this.
It absolutely makes my heart soar! I am so proud just to see the picture, but also to read the words. It’s stunning, stunning work on everyone’s part. Cheers to you guys <3
Back in early July, Day Glo sent me a message suggesting we collaborate to write a script for hitRECord. I eagerly said ‘YES’ and thus began a month and a half (probably would have been shorter if I didn’t take so long to do things) of collaborative writing, resulting in a tiny screenplay that I’m immensely proud of.
I’m very, very happy with the story, not only because it was a collaboration with a hitRECorder and friend I admire greatly, but because I am genuinely in love with the characters and the story-telling.
Here’s what Day Glo has to say about it:
Yes, that’s right: here, in text form, is a collaboration between the wonderfully talented Phenomenaaa, and yours truly.
It’s a screenplay for a short film, and - for now, at least, it’s called People Who Hate People. Hopefully you’ll get why when you read it.
We wanted to write something that was achievable on a low-budget, but would also be a new challenge for the HR community.
Our hope is that, at the very least, people will read it and enjoy it. Beyond that, we are hoping that RegularJoe, your friend & mine, will see fit to take this script on in some fashion as director (and star?). That it will become a big HR project that we can all work on together.
But if not, we just hope to make you a) laugh, b) sigh and c) go “Aww” and wish that life was like the movies.
So please, give it a download and a read-through. Tell us what you think, what you like, what you don’t like.
Again by heart
I drudged up the narrow, concrete stairwell toward the roof of my building, packing my cigarettes as I went.
The air was cold and crisp; I inhaled slowly and felt it travel to my lungs and leave a lingering chill. I re-wrapped my scarf for good measure.
I never told anyone about my access to the roof. In a city so crowded, and in a life so shared, I held on to my secret rooftop as though it would destroy me if anyone found out. Maybe it would.
“Do you have a spare?”
“Why are you up here?” I asked, handing the cigarette back to him.
“I like this city. Very much, I really do. But I just wanted to see the sky.” He took a long drag, his stare never leaving mine, and blew the smoke out in a quick exhale. “Do yanno what I mean?”
I looked at him for a second longer, then up at the sky. It was grey — winter grey. The clouds were thick and sad, blending seamlessly into the city’s concrete skyline.
“This sky just makes me want to take a nap.”
He laughed quietly, the air from his breath seemed no different than the smoke.
“Up here, we’re above everything, more or less. Up here there is a horizon, there’s a skyline. You don’t have to look straight up to see it. On the streets we’re blocked and barricaded by buildings and people. I feel much less small standing on a rooftop. Sometimes I just need to feel less like I’m part of a city, and more like I’m part of the world.”
I considered what he said, but didn’t respond. He put out his cigarette and smiled at me, and though he was only standing there, inoffensively, offering up a sliver of insight which I probably needed to hear, I’d never felt smaller.
It was shortly after I moved to the City that I joined the Movement. It’s all myth in the villages from which I hail. We’re told from the moment we hear of it that it’s nothing more than a fanatic obsession brought on by the drugs and sinning of the City.
Growing up, my friends and I started a faux detective agency and dreamed of joining the real search. My best friend followed the search into the City, and has been missing for six months. He left instructions if ever something happened to him. The day after the news of his disappearance reached my family, I left.
Across the surface of countless buildings was painted “WHO IS CASSANDRA” in neon rainbow colors. Sometimes there are symbols, cryptic letters and signs, painted next to the message, but only a select few know the cipher — I make a note of these locations in my book and carry on with my search.
No one knows who She is. Any information that has been gathered is widely regarded to be hearsay. Anything I think to be a definite, solid clue to the answer is fairytale nonsense to another faction of wanderers.
I will continue searching. The answer is somewhere.
I would love for someone to start the next piece to this. Introduce the character of the speaker, continue on with the search in detail, write some theories and such. Please, please, please.
meow, meow, meow, meow, meeeeow.
I fell asleep and dreamt last night.
I dreamt that I woke and was surrounded by darkness. the brightest darkness I had ever seen. There were only stars. Me, and nebulae, and supernova. They wrapped me in their dying light, and I thought “how beautiful death must be.”
I stayed alone. Alone.
I felt the movement pushing me, and pulling me. Time was passing, and I lay, floating, uncaring and unaware. I dreamt that as I floated in the lit-darkness, you floated down to me. Inky, black wisps of hair hung over your eyes. The stars surrounded you, too, in their light, in warmth. Your heart beat so loudly I could hear it, even at this distance; especially at this closeness. You shone.
You leaned down, you kissed me. I saw the streets of Paris, lit up like constellations; I could smell your cigarettes; hear your voice, clearly, as you said “Look at those shimmering lights. Je t’aime, mon chérie. Tu as illuminés.”
I woke up. There were no stars. You were not next to me.
I woke up.
Layla’s pictureeee inspired the crap outta me.
RECord posted HERE at hitRECord
I REblogged this because someone just liked it and it threw me off. I’d nearly forgotten about it. But I adore it. I could never really forget. It’s very close to my heart.
i wish to be of the Sky
to meet the Sea
at our horizons
and compare the
stars we share.
to be the container
and to be the giver
of such magickal things
that all dreaming thoughts
yearn to touch upon.
i wish to be of the Sky
also at hitRECord.
we fell together in autumn,
apart in the spring
were we always
is that just
also on hitRECord