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July, 2016
Archive

  • Death, Doughnuts, and Defecation

    Returning to my blog is kind of like coming back to an ex lover. I know I can eventually get off, but it’s gonna take work to get there. Mostly because I already know how everything can go terribly wrong.

    The month I was filming my movie was intense. My cinematographer and DP is a vampire who doesn’t sleep, so he insisted we film at sunrise because blah blah blah magic hour zzzzzzzzz. I’m the kind of lady that leisurely wakes after the last rooster has been slaughtered at my command, so I would have preferred if we just drank the blood of virgins instead.

    We got into a groove and became increasingly manic as the days went on. If we happened to have a break in the filming schedule, we would make a short film, or a music video to pass the time –we both entered into a frenzied state of hysteria. The seduction of the muse was so alluring that I think we became the bottom in a BSDM relationship with creativity.

    Retrospectively I realize that a huge part of my impulse to create is because it anchors my mind. It gives me something to think about, and having that structure helps me stay sane. When I listen to music I envision dances in my head. When I have no one to talk and nothing to distract me, I daydream about scripts I want to write and stories I want to tell. But when I don’t have anything creative going on, my mind wanders into a land of anxiety. I think about the past, conversations I wish I had, future events that will never happen, people I can’t control… Thinking about my actual life is way more boring than thinking about the made up lives of characters in my head.

    My creative drive keeps me on the road of mental stability, even though most of the things I create are mentally unstable.

    In the midst of filming my grandmother died. My mom called to tell me the news, and I realized I was eating a doughnut the moment her spirit traveled into the other dimension. It was a delicious treat, but it felt kind of strange to think that the person you owe your heritage to can die while you gingerly enjoy a yeasty delight. Then I had to continue moving forward with the filming because I had been planning it for months so what could I do? It’s kind of surreal how quickly life moves on. I was like “oh she died… and scene.”

    My grandmother had been sick and was suffering quite a bit. One of the last times I saw her she told me “I don’t want to leave the party, but I don’t like the way I am dancing.” We both agreed this was a pretty amazing metaphor, and congratulated her on her poetic phrasing. I have a lot of respect for a person who even when they are in their weakest time; they still have the strength to recognize their own epic quote. She was right though, the party will go on, but what’s the point of being there if you can’t get down?

    I don’t think it’s a tragedy when an 89-year-old person dies, yet I did feel sad. Not the kind of sad that elicits an outburst of emotion, but more a subtle sorrow. She had been my neighbor for the past 6 years so I saw her all the time. I didn’t have any regrets, or anything I wish I had said. I felt like I had closure, and genuinely learned a lot about life through her process of dying. In a way it’s a great gift to experience the end of someone’s life. It’s of course hard to watch them physically and mentally deteriorate, but at the same time I had this rare exposure to what she thought about during her final months.

    My grandmother’s mind was totally preoccupied with feelings about relationships – she had 6 kids, 9 grandchildren, 2 husbands, many friends, and a big family. She reminisced constantly, both about good times and bad, and didn’t care about much else. When we are dying I think we tend to think most about how we treated those we love. When our minds go lucid, memories of people are what will traverse our consciousness. Yes we all have ambitions, ways we distract ourselves, superficial concerns… but it’s our connection to others that will have the greatest pull in the end. The more strings you tie with care, the more your heart will feel secure as the spaces between the beats grows longer.

    The Munch would visit her great-grandmother a lot during her final months. Munch wasn’t fazed by my grandmother’s oxygen mask, the wheel chair, the fading ability to communicate, or her increasingly frail physique. Munch was lighthearted about it all, and saw my grandmother as a “legend that would always live on – like ‘My Little Pony’.” A week after the death my friend asked Munch how she felt about it. Munch just looked into her eyes for almost a full minute then said, “I didn’t want her to die.” I think we all feel that way. We knew death was going to happen, but we didn’t want it to.

    The death hung over me for the rest of the film shoot, but in a way it also protected me. I didn’t really have to process it because I was so overwhelmed with the task at hand. When the movie was done, it was like I had given birth, and lost a lot of blood. I was exhausted and all my life force had been drained out of me, but unfortunately I didn’t have any placenta to make soup out of ☹

    The crew was gone and because no one was around to film me I started to have a hard time appreciating life. Everything felt so meaningless. I would watch my daughter run through a field of wild flowers at sunset and feel so much regret that I wasn’t recording it. What was the point of this beauty if I didn’t have my camera to capture the moment!!?? Look at all these sun flares – am I just supposed to remember this perfect lighting and not show it to any one else while I edit in more reds??!!!

    I knew I was supposed to “relax” and take it easy, but it’s not relaxing for me to relax. It takes work!! I would sit outside under a shady tree and spend the entire time waiting for it to be over. It was really stressful.

    I figured I should go see my hippy healer and get some healing done. That would put my soul at ease right? And maybe that would have been a good idea, but instead my healer told me I had parasites. PS…. THAT WAS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!! She put gave me some herbs and I left her place looking forward to shitting out worms for the next few weeks.

    I took my new age tinctures and went to bed dreading the next morning. It was a living nightmare – wondering what was going to crawl out of my anus the next day. Every bowel excretion I envisioned an army of critters having a mass exodus out my ass. I was so afraid to look… but OF COURSE I DID ANYWAY! So far it’s been two weeks and I still haven’t seen any serpents in my feces, but maybe that’s because I didn’t poke around enough.

    Look at these fucking sun flares!!!!!!! And am I seriously supposed to drive around now and not have a reflector to catch the light?

    toni abner elise family filming

    abner filming toni

    July 21, 2016 • Musings • Views: 1304

  • A White Chick’s Thoughts on the Police State, Steroids, and The Deception of the American Dream

    Have you ever taken an information detox? You know, like when you only juice the news? I am just emerging from mine, and even though I feel lighter without the burden of digesting world events, I also know I will gain all the weight back as soon as I start eating up content again.

    For an entire month I was (gasp) too busy to look at Facebook. I know… a tragedy almost too tragic to tell. This meant my lifeline to the outside world was broken. Without my newsfeed, there was no one are around to feed me news. When I finally sat down to catch up on what I’ve been missing I was so disturbed that my face actually buffered.

    I have a theory about the police force in America. I think there is a HUGE population of officers who take steroids.

    The last time I was in New York City, I was looking at the body types of the cops. They all look like super heroes in the 3rd installment of their movie franchise. I don’t think it is possible for people who work at least 9 hours a day at a job to also have the time to be at the gym long enough to get that muscular.

    Yes I know fitness is part of the criteria of being a cop, but in order to get as fit as a LOT of the police out there, you have to literally spend HOURS every day lifting and training. There is almost no way they have the time to achieve those bodies naturally.

    Just like we test athletes for steroids, we need to test policemen as well!!!!! There is a hell of a lot MORE at stake then some records being broken.

    “Roid rage” is a real thing. Steroids majorly impact your psychology – causing nervousness, mood swings, extreme irritability, delusions, hostility, aggression… When I watch videos of police brutality/ MURDERS, it’s like these guys are possessed!!!

    Yes racism is for SURE a factor in the rampant problems within the police force, but I would argue that steroids are enflaming the violence. There is currently no standardized testing for cops. I think every police officer that’s involved in an unwarranted ferocious attack should IMMEDIATELY be tested – as should their entire department. Drug use does not exist in a vacuum. Just like in sports teams, usually MANY people are using together. A culture is created where it’s not only accepted, but you are WEAK if you don’t.

    Also, why the hell do traffic cops need guns? Okay fine you can have a Taser just in case, but I really don’t think if your main objective is to pull people over for speeding or rolling through a stop sign, you also need a gun to shoot people in the head. Not every police officer needs a gun to do their job. I would like to see the stats of how many policemen are murdered because of traffic stops vs. how many citizens are UNJUSTLY murdered because of driving with a “wide nose.”

    The question most rational people are asking themselves is; what do we do about this very obvious pandemic?

    I don’t think people are being consciously complacent. I see that many Americans deeply care about this gross inequality. Yet at the same time, we are allowing it to happen because – it KEEPS HAPPENING! There is UNDENIABLE EVIDENCE of these events occurring – videos that tell the story of a crime – yet cops are STILL getting off, aren’t persecuted by the law, and often receive massive pensions if they leave the force.

    There seems to be this disconnect between what we know to be VERY WRONG, and not knowing how to take action. I think this is partly because as a society, modern Americans have very little context when it comes to genuine rebellion or dissent. We have been protected for many years from the fears that a huge population of the world deals with daily. There is no war outside our front doors. We are not risking our lives to go to school. America is not perfect by any means, but it’s a hell of a lot safer than a country that actually experiences drone attacks.

    We live in a first world bubble of potential and opportunity. Although the promise of the American dream may have an idealistic value to the psyche of our country, it’s also an extremely dangerous mentality to believe in.

    In order for a population of people to be controlled, they have to be divided. Because American has such vast diversity, both with race, culture, economics, and religion, we are less united. Even if we share a similar social justice belief system, there is a vast range of the kinds of people involved in any movement, and they have very different levels sacrifice.

    If you look at the youth movement in Palestine, they are mostly coming from a very similar frame of reference. They are all equally oppressed, and feel their inequality equally amongst themselves. There is a community in dissent, because they all mostly have the same risk. They see no future in their country, so risking their lives to fight for one seems logical. The promise of zero opportunity frees them from holding back. They are literally fighting against injustice with rocks and make shift weapons because they have nothing to lose.

    Yet here in America, there is this looming promise of opportunity. It’s scary to sacrifice everything because what if you miss out? The diversity of our experience of being Americans keeps us divided. The hope of achieving the “American Dream” keeps us from really going balls to the wall in fighting a system we KNOW is corrupt. Even if you live in a poor community that is constantly patrolled, there is still this lingering hope that you can get out. You could be one of the few exceptions, and fit yourself into a different potential future if you just kept quite and kept working.

    So this leaves us in a philosophical conundrum. We have all the information to know how dangerous and unjust the corrupt justice system is; yet we are passive observers to it. Although words are crucial when it comes to paradigm shifts, and many people are speaking out, there is something more needs to be done with our actions.

    There are all these inspiring speeches going around with people talking about how there is no “race,” except for the “human race.” Race is a complete social construct that was created by Europeans to oppress and objectify Africans when they were being colonized. There aren’t different races, just different physical attributes. But “race” is still very alive in our imaginations and to pretend that it hasn’t embedded in our culture isn’t working. Being aware of our current paradigm of race is the first step to restructuring its significance – especially because of the danger with the ignorant identification with those of your same race.

    When Philando Castille was brutally murdered while reaching for his gun permit, where was the outrage from the NRA????!!!!!!!! This is like their thing… isn’t it??!! Why aren’t they speaking out about this issue and using this story to further their cause. Because they are all a bunch of white dudes who think they can only identify with white gun owners?!

    The assumption that race is the defining indicator of identification is so archaic. If I were in a room with a 20 white women who all came from a similar socio-economic background, all attended private school like I did, all went to college, and all had 6 year old daughters, I would still identify more with the Asian man in the corner making a mandala out of neon sand and talking about his chakras. My tribe of people are NOT white women, but rather anyone who is counter culture and challenging convention. Those people that want to stand out from the status quo while talking sincerely about energy centers, past life regressions, and conspiracy theories they got tattooed onto their back.

    This pretty pretty much sums up my feelings about all this… Sad day to think NWA’s “Fuck the Police” is just as relevant now as it was 18 years ago 🙁

    munch NWA

    July 14, 2016 • Current Events, Political Banter • Views: 1338