What comes out of us as art? Is it emotion somehow transferred, memory, ideas, projections?
I wrote a screenplay for Simon in exchange for his website work and software loading help. He had filmed footage of two friends walking through Mount Royal. He told me what he had filmed and the key words that he had in mind for the male voiceover. Then we watched the footage as I wrote on a pad. I couldn’t hear Simon although he sat right behind me. He seemed far away. He stopped talking. I typed up my notes, printed it and watched the footage with it, speaking it. I made one more revision the following day but basically it was done. I felt dizzied as if I had returned from a great distance.
“It was just, like, bleh,” Simon said, making a barfing motion. “That just flowed out of you.”
It did. It was unstoppable.