how would you start this movie?
In my younger and more vulnerable years, I was a dreamer. I wanted to write. I wanted to make movies. Along the way between then and today, I wanted to sing, I wanted to act, I wanted to direct. I still have some very incomplete stories that I wrote as early as 4th grade (that's about 1984, when I'm 8 years old, for those of you in other countries where it isn't called the 4th grade. It was 1984 that Andy Kaufman died, too. And, it's 1984 that I've gotten to in this blog's deconstruction of my childhood experience with films on repeat. I didn't have the will then, at 8-years-old, to finish my stories. My imagination was bigger than my attention span or my capacity for sitting down and writing. As this is Day 1348 of this blog, and the entries average well over 1000 words each, I think it should be clear that that capacity has increased. Still, my imagination often surpasses me. Not my attention span, necessarily, but my time, my availability. I wish my Hyd...