Monday, July 27, 2009
Don't do a double take if Jeff Nichols' Shotgun Stories puts you in mind of David Gordon Green. Green is a producer on the project, and DP Adam Stone helped to shoot three of Green's films. Writer-director Nichols is a serious talent in his own right, and though his slow-burning film isn't going to be to all tastes, it's a mature and authentic-feeling story of three brothers living hand-to-mouth in Southeast Arkansas. The crux of the story is a family feud between three brothers and their four half-brothers following the death of their mutual father. Nichols is to be credited for upending traditional revenge movie theatrics, instead applying understatement and, at times, dry humor to his sad story. Though the acting is all fine, audiences may take special notice of Michael Shannon, known for Bug and World Trade Center.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The was setting and the girl saw the shadows of the tall buildings and the people that move with the setting of the and the rising of the moon. She looked up at the sky where the clouds and the horizon was turning purple with soft hues of yellow, pink, and orange. She sighed a breath of chilly autumn air and reached into her oversized coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette. She lit the end and sucked in as much smoke her lungs can take, then slowly blew it out, feeling the warm strain leave her chest. Somewhere in the distance, the girl heard lingering notes in the air. Before she could stop herself when she realized what she was doing. it was too late to turn back. She was walking towards the music. Sitting on the bench with his back against her, was a young male playing the guitar. His long and tangled brown hair blew in the wind as the song picked up in volume. It was a beautiful sight. Now the sun was slowly setting behind the trees, and as the light, soft hues of pink and purple were disappearing, radiant hues of red and orange gleamed on him. The girls' hands trembled as she dropped the cigarette to the ground. She leaned in closer as she was starting to hear his melancholy voice flow effortlessly with the soothing sound of the guitar. His voice, with a hint of raspiness, painted a story: an old train abandoned in the middle of the desert, with no one but the dust to keep it alive.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
For the past several months, I've been preoccupied with school, work, a boy, and life in general...especially the boy :/ But come on, that's not a good enough excuse to do one of the things i like to do best: writing.
Here's the beginning of a cute, short story my friend, Misha and I started wrote:
Annie: Emily decided to spend her time going to the library and picking out her favorite novel.
Misha: Emily first saw Andre in the metaphysics/spirituality section of the library. Although Andre was seemingly normal she knew right away he'd be different than the other people she met since she moved to L.A.
Annie: People in L.A. were a unique breed of people and how she found out Andre's name is a funny story.
Misha: Emily saw that Andre was glancing over at her. Curiosity overtook her. She decided to approach him pretending that she thought she knew him.