Current reel of (live) work (camera/editing) with some family fun thrown in the beginning.

Ethan rides his skateboard down the long and crowded Manhattan street. West 28th st in Chelsea, to be exact. In his battered dark jeans and faded black V-Neck, he stops at an intersection. Hopping off his board, he looks across the street.

There she was.

Often he would notice her sitting outside the same bar night after night, usually a cigarette in hand. He started traveling this way more just to get longer glances and find out more about her by watching her, listening to her phone conversations. He often wondered why she would drink so often alone. He often wondered when he would get the nerve to say ‘hello’. Removing himself from the street corner, he posted himself up against the wall of a nearby building.

Intrigued by his weird reevaluation of direction, her eyes are drawn to watch the skateboarding stranger. She’d recently decided it was her favorite place to ‘people watch’.

Ethan puts some weed in a small pipe. He smokes it and relaxes into his mind.

“Alright, this is the day” he thought.
A second hit, and he suddenly was aware that the girl was now watching him.
“Shit, that’s not enough”.
Ethan reaches into his backpack for his flask. He takes a long hard swallow.
“Okay, here I go.”
Putting the flask back into his bag, he drops them both.

The girl had crossed the street and is standing right in front of him as he straightens out.
He lets out a startled mumble of “Um, hi”.

“I like your style, I’m Anna”.

fireworks in the sunrise,

birdsong in the dark morning.

trash is foreign once it’s trash;

how alien like our dirt becomes.

the left tipped wing of an eagle;

gone forever, and here no more.

vibrant purples and brilliant blues.

oh, the masses of squirrels.

 

Pontoosuc

Posted: April 19, 2014 in writing
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saturday night,

swimming

at the lake.

more smiles

than substance

using yours, ours

his, hers;

music to

heal and influence.

believing we could

never run

out of laughter.

believing we should,

never leave;

until the storm

of lightning

moved in.

goodnight friends.

Reflection Trailer from Noka Productions on Vimeo.

Happy Halloween!

11:45

Posted: July 4, 2013 in writing
Tags: , , , ,

She was on the plane to La Paz
When she told me she loved me and she’d
See me later

I asked if she was crazy
I hadn’t spoken to her in weeks
And now she was just going to up and leave

She asked me not to be mad

I told her I wasn’t, just lonely and to
Have a good time

She said I’ll bring you back a little
Indigenous Latin boy or girl

I said that’ll do and I love you too