Pulp Fiction

The screenplay to the movie Pulp Fiction opens with a definition.

Pulp: "a soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter" and "a magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper."

the movie then begins.

I think the main reason people enjoyed this movie, and created it into a cult classic was the non linear organization of each scene. Like the books Choose Your Own Adventure, reach word relyies heavily on the next. Each next sequence we hope will reveal more about the story. Finally in the end though, its not like our usual endings, and the neo noir tragic ending and flawed main characters challenge Disney ending comfortability. Instead of satisfying bliss and peaceful endings, reality infiltrated its way into the minds of the viewers.

Here's something real

remember playing with pogs? this is different

RANDOM ACT of awesomeness

March 11, 2010 approximately 9:05...clearly stated below..... approximately one glass of wine. approximate randomness....via facebook live chat...



whats good girl?

9:05pm Sarah

oh workin on papers you know basically everything that has been put off this week because of my dumb ass

9:06pm Nicole

procrastination forces perfection

9:06pm Sarah

agreed

9:06pm Nicole

therefore, better cramming and being stressed only one time instead of spreading it out all week

9:06pm Sarah

yes

a million times yes

why sweat it when you can just sweat it once?

9:07pm Nicole

yes, and girls don't sweat, they perspire

9:07pm Sarah

perspire to achieve?

9:08pm Nicole

no like to perspire ......not sweat

did i just make up a word??

no its a real word

i googled it

The Core

I live in Fremont, self proclaimed center of the universe. It's true for I have seen with my own eyes, the very official t-shirt. Fremont is an appropriate environment for this point in life. A left turn to my shoulder is the city, connected by a bridge, but separate enough from the sometimes blocked sunlight in the concrete jungle of Seattle. It is here, I can most likely find the sunlight and soak on the water front. I enjoy the laid back environment and friendly sunshine attitude. But stil has a night life that is alive on the weekends, satisfying my need to relax inhibitions. On Sundays, the farmers market a block away, fills with hippies, and hippie lovers, collectively selling antiques and soon to be treasures along with other valuables.

Needless to say, I am a fan.
When I ride the bus to work every morning, you'll find me in the window looking up. To me the tops of the buildings we all pass are the most interesting. People walk past my windows frequently, and I enjoy watching. We are only a piece of glass away from eye contact. The setting to the movie thickens.


she draws... because she must.

2010..the world is still here.....so now what

Have you ever thought about the beginning to the movie that was made about who you are, like the scenes that you replay in your head that you connect to why you are you? The first scene is, to some the most important. First impressions are important to our pop culture identity.

I was raised watching movies, have over 200 of my own, and bookmark imdb.com (Internet Movie Database) on my computer…… Hence, I possess a passion for this artistic medium. I expect to be in form, structure less, like the post modern literature movement. I would like to indulge thee, a preview of my own puzzle pieces in screen form…There is no visual representation other than the interpretation created by the words in the imagination of those who read.

save a tree…..

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

(background noise: slow tapping of drums, increasing rapidly in speed, creating an anticipating rush of sound to build tension... It has a real rat tat style of noise, just the snare alone)for a few measures.. suddenly silenced, by the sound of a lighter failing to ignite. The hands of the lighter holder rapidly attempt to click by antsy thumbs and fail)

Out. Black screen

(noise: a young woman, grunts mildly with a hint of despair, expressing distress).

MAIN CHARACTER

(she anxiously but slowly cries out)

“come on”

Fade In

Close up: two tainted lips hold tightly a cigarette creating a frown in her bottom half of face, as it remains unlit (pause)

Close up: long cigarette with the sun shining down on it brightly. It’s a nice day outside, birds are singing, people are walking by smiling. Her hand holding the lighter has crimson red nail polish slightly chipped, and a thin silver thumb ring that the sun reflects off of blinding and bright. Sometimes the tips get burnt from a final spark, teasing her. The lighter fails helplessly to satisfy its one purpose.

Slowly Focus:

EXT. BUS STOP GOING DOWNTOWN TO WORK. OUTSIDE A LOCAL COFFEE SHOP WINDOW.

Body shot: main character, long dirty blonde hair, messy from last night but has a golden shine to it, maintaining a random but controlled curl in a loose messy bun. She wears last nights makeup fixed up and stands with business casual all back attire. Her apron ties are hanging out of her light brown bag light Indiana jones. Her i-pod is in a coat pocket which has a high collar…One ear phone fell out however, in this distressing moment. Standing outside the bus stop, she gets agitated and annoyed to not have a cigarette before going to work. Her latte is standing next to her feet waiting for her to grab it. She looks around for some reason, and tries again. Meanwhile families, and happy people walk by her.

(Hold shot)

Black Screen:

Fast Forward. A city bus with the title “DOWNTOWN” is heard before seen and comes turning down the street and instantly stops at the tips of her large and frumpy restaurant style no slip all black clogs. Stop fast forward. The doors open slowly.

Shot. focus on MAIN CHARACTER face. Her cigarette goes limp with disappointment, and unimpressed lips like a bad first kiss, and her eyebrows both raise sharply from irony.

MAIN CHARACTER

(expecting her fate she calmly cries out)

“right”

Shot. Body shot behind the main character and the bus crowds the screen. She quickly puts the cigarette back into her pocket and bends her knees to the right and grabs her coffee to ride the bus. She is facing the bus and sighs largely before entering. Her left foot first.

Shot. Her foot about to step on the last step of the loud buzzing creature of the metro transportation devices.

Fade Out.

TITLE FLASHES ON SCREEN IN BLACK BACKGROUND, WHITE TEXT AND A SONG TOO HARD TO PICK OUT NOW PLAYS!

This could take a while. ……but at least it was a try. So I randomly explained myself on the verge of awesomeness, with the cliff hanging view of my screen play beginnings. When it comes to editing, no this scene probably would get moved, changed, and twisted into something different. Obviously, it is seen as nothing great now, but in a complex entirety would be valuable to understanding the truth of the story. Holly, wood is word pair for a reason. The wood, represents something that can be carved, crafted, chopped. A product of something once only beautiful to certain people, now is something all can touch and admire. That’s why they are so good at making movies. Carving products out of generalized and safe notions based on what will be profitable. This is a short but simple idea about why this scene should be seen as not simple, but complex. Apply this short labor of creative thought to the idea of being able to show someone who you are, simply out of replaying, and recreating feelings, even if to others watching it may seem uninteresting.

NODJ

2010

i never said i wasn't unusual

She balances with great ease between what knowledge is, and what knowledge isn't. Distinguishing the two is almost as easy as saying true, or untrue. But it isn't that easy, because truth cannot be defined for others, but by individuals themselves. The basic idea of truth is understood to be representable, but as far as the equal representation of understanding, truth like all words, are defined through single minds.

I would argue then that my experience learning leaves me with one important critique, that half of it may or may not have been facts based upon an equal collective. History, Art, Philosophy, English in the expressive modes are subjective, mainly to the men who wrote them all.... Institutionalized pumping of classes, sometimes works like a machine, pumping student after student to make sure that these books, are understood, generalized, and true with meaning. By the end of the assembly line, a person is expected to be gay, or straight, democrat, or republican, single, or married, a drinker, or not a drinker, sexual or not? Based upon what? what they told us..... This irrational practice of education makes it hard for a widened eye to blink away for a second. The single blink would put them back into a different reality, the abyss of your darkened lids where the mind makes its decisions, without influence except your own bodily gut feeling.

So when I continue on in my further and future education the point of this all is to refect on how not always, is the larger institution safe. Being a small fish in a big sea is not easy, but at least its harder to stand out, which makes you awesome.

This random thought is dedicated to the future projects, goals, plans, for the rest of the year 2010. More to come late, of course.

Rock to wish upon a STAR

this ONE time....

Two beer stained lips, exhale deeply her last cigarrette to settle thoughts of stress and recreate thoughts about the possibilities within a clear lit night, which as usual, is endless. The drunken call of Friday night echoed against her house from the street, only to remind her of the annoying empty conversations waiting if she should join this stumbling rant of excessive giggling and insecure, uninteresting, intentions.
Her house,which was snug fit in between the HEART of the universe, and somewhere else, somewhere chaotic. The night caught her ears attention like a tear to a cheek, listening to the noise of youthful spirits exploding with lost inhibitions, and alcohol. To no debate, it was just that, a blur of lost souls searching for something and never sleeps till it does, or passes out.. Even if she does decide to avoid the jungle around her, the orchestra of music humming from the venue down the ally, is a predator, to the inner rockstar within and will draw her to the streets immediately...

tap by tap

beat by beat

So she walks towards the noise... we've all seen Jumanji

This is how the story begins, It was all a Purple haze, but a buzz gone right, and a craving satisfied into a swirled hallucination of events that changed the night completely. Resting on the secure notion that her addiction to cigarettes is a mini adventure by a craving to drive late at night and satisfy the demon inside, the lady of the evening drove and crashed right into a random act of awesomeness. Upon entering the gas station nearby, she could not avoid the sound of music creeping its way like smoke into her right ear. Forcing her head to adjust, the instinct of wanting to hear things louder, therefore clearer.

The show was forcing an uncontrollable beat in her hand meditating her heart, tapping her index finger on her thigh to immitate this rare oddity in sound..... It didn't really matter who was playing at that point because it felt good. The night was already in her favor for finding something to satisfy her need to love the moment, and let the music take over, careless, and blind like a rockstar with thick shades on to disappear from the lights of the paparrazi. She went to the concert, and stood right up front, secured herself anti anxiety medication with a few drinks right away. At that point she was just hours away from a different reality, and ready to let the lights turn down low, and the waves of music crash decibal levels from the instruments immortal barrier breaking beats.

Somehow, this calms and smooths tension built up at work. DROID..... The music felt good on her body, and she knew this because they mimicked the lights, and she would swear her heart beat mimicked as well. Maybe it was the other way around and the lights mimicked the music.

After departing the show, she found herself waiting for a friend to get done in the bathroom and stood patiently leaning against a table, reached her elbow up slowly, but effortlessly, embracing her buzzed body upright. As all do, deny non sobriety, her intact eyes widened and ears slowly calmed from a what was seen as en endless ring.

She is a Virgo, detail oriented, observing, naturally acting as such she noticed a man....

who was dancing. Moving so slow, it didn't seem as if he was touching the ground. Then this smooth motion was stopped, he froze, ice, cold. But after for what seemed an eternity the ice shattered and his whole body muscles went limp and motioned back into a rhythmic dance. He was dancing, beautifully..... but, no one really noticed because of the almost empty venue.....
the concert was over,
and the music was gone...

This detail forced a smirk on her face and she then sat satisfied on the ending of a good night, and. But it was not over. It was just the beginning. Someone approached this lone being, not unusual and began asking questions about her night. THoughtul...so she discussed. He was interested in the random fate that drew her to the show..

Ah, the catch. He was the sound guy for the band. But despite a wise first instinct, she gave him the right number.



But that was enough, walk home.

Only to be interrupted by three wise men, with treats full of surprises. Cookies that were special, and transforming to the ora of the evening. Did I mention that these cookies were free... Upon sharing a bottle of champagne on the streets openly, she made new friends, and entertained themselves in the abyss of time, for about an hour.
but before we leave them, a tale of irony.

The lone dancer she saw earlier, passes by. The three wise men laugh as they tell her they are both eating the same magical cookies. Odd that at one point, a large separation had existed between her and the man who was dancing alone. But some how were still connected. But that is not the end. The man from earlier calls her....


In fact there is much more to tell, but I will leave you like the memory of most evenings go. Lost in a black out, somewhere. I wonder where we go when we black out? Because its' not reality. ...

But this random act of awesomeness would have not existed without the trusting condition of randomness, and acts of such as being benefitial. This is why music was created, you were meant to hear it.