How to Punch Yourself in the Face

We shot the party scene. Aya was great; a class act, amiable and charming to all but also there to get it done. The film people were great, too; there to contribute. We got what we needed. We documented a party as a party is and all that a party entails. It was what I expected, and I'll just say this: I am proud to know Justin La Fleur. He sang beautiful and sincere, a raging heart on his sleeve that quells all the bullshit. Bob Dylan once said something to the effect that you have to keep your magic to yourself. You can't show your brilliance when vulnerable because those that envy will try and kill it. Bob Dylan's right, but he also doesn't know Justin. We shot Cecile listening to him. She is of course strong enough to express her adoration. She is the best person I know, and this is why I love her. Once we shoot the other two scenes to cut away to, the footage will tell its truth with ease and fitful brilliance.

Strange. The morning after the shoot I was walking up 6th Street and I saw a pretty young girl; 22 or so, slept-on raven hair, strung-out on drugs but with her looks still holding, tucked into a doorway behind a shopping cart, wearing a thick smear of bright red lipstick, and punching herself in the face. She wasn't just being expressive or seeking attention. There was no one around, and she didn't see me coming, when suddenly, she punched herself in the face. The slap-thud it produced was notable enough so I knew it had to hurt, and when she caught me looking at her, she threw me a "Whatever" glance and then just stared at cars passing. I liked her. I'll have to use that moment for something.  

Covering unscripted action like this did get us good results. It was good preparation for what I want to do with Trubble. When we do this with a few intimated talented people that get it, we'll make a beautiful narrative where the action is an authentic document and not bullshit act-y acting.

Knife Assault Survivor,

Kindrid Parker