Sunday, November 06, 2005

Brooding wiff my tea

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Naaah... it's just BunnyDee hogging the spotlight.

Gimme a month, and I can make you so sick of me you wish you never knew my name.
Within these past few weeks, I've made a forum (along with Than, Ted and Dim), a blog and a deviantart gallery. All of the aforementioned being spots on the web I wasn't sure if I were worth having. Yet, I still went along with it.

And now I'm three-and-twenty. I've been as much for two whole days. I can't imagine a more terrible punishment the gods could bring upon me for my hubris - and no, you vicious, lightning-bearing, plague-bringing creatures, that wasn't a challenge, it was a complaint.

So how's my script coming along, you ask; my baby...
Oh, how that question stings... Tell you what: ask me again tomorrow.

I'm supposed to be working on this thing for months. It's as if I really were pregnant with a baby of my own. The discomfort, the morning sickness, the uncalled-for yet somehow justified pride, the reading up and asking for advice on how to do it right, they're all there. The dreams of how great it'll be when it's fully born, the unexpected pains... I should've used a creativity condom after all...

I keep feeding and nurturing the foetus, but I'm pretty sure at least nine months must indeed pass before it emerges, bald and weeping, to face the world. And that's when the real trouble will start.

The father's doing a great job, though. My favourite director, sex toy and other half of my two-part-auteur team has finally accepted his parental responsibilities to the max. And made me suffer more while doing it - it really felt like sex during pregnancy.

Yup, the whole plot has changed. Out goes Zero and the Thinking People Society conspiracy, now it's just a mundane story about 4 arty/geeky foreign students in London, trying to make the best of themselves and failing miserably, while still "falling in love with the same girl".
No, they aren't vampires at the end, although that could work too, come to think of it.

Funny thing is, the plot sounds more interesting in my head now that it's simpler. I guess that's how all parents feel, when their child ends up going in a direction they wouldn't have chosen for it themselves: threatened by the concept, but relieved that it's finally heading somewhere.

Still, his help feels like yet another case of me being a fraud, so full of myself I can't even notice my inner complaints. Yep, filmmaking is a collaborative business, and scriptwriting can be too. But that's yet another excuse, just like the others I've been inventing for myself lately, about making a blog, or a deviantart gallery...

Well, screw you, bunny. Screw you creatively and get you pregnant with the Messiah.

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