Self-obliged self-justification disclaimer: this is pure anarchy stream-of-consciousness. It wasn’t supposed to be, but this is what happens when one forces out a last-minute birthday present-equivalent. Doesn’t change how much it matters.
This wasn’t the last day of Operation Heatstroke. 4 days later was, and I’m grateful for that—Jamz and I agreeing 29 was the coolest.
August 25 was the last one with the widest of the core team in one place, was at the furthest away wasteland for the first and only time, and so naturally was as depressively resonating as it was gonna get. Which just made the 29 even more of a graceful relief. Though you’re not here so that I could make you feel worse with positive stories; this is Crescendo Angst Cinevision and we don’t leave Depressio behind to die in the pouring-rain mud.
I don’t know whose spectacular idea it was to create a city-like-sized forest-barren-field park in the desolate depths of greater montreal’s south-as-Hell-shore suburban off-roads but I can confirm it exists cause I ended up traversing it 4 times, 1 of them with the team, to which we took climactic shots so there’s no way it was some seismic optical illusion. This might be the only time I’ve ever physiologically come upon an off-road deliberately-set-up mystical secret area at a relatively not-that-far-distance from civilization. And no we’re not telling anyone exactly where to find it for the not-limited-to-reason so that you cannot take your lover there, have sweaty publicly-indecent sex on top of a hill, hence humping a crater where the environment’s dignity sucks downwards to die by disgusted suicide. These are the non-pandemic golden-sun-coated latter days of summer 2019, yet across my ~48 hours there, ~36 of which was during the reasonable daylight, I might’ve come across 8 strangers in total and they may as well have all looked lost. It’s like someone built a paradise park then decided to abandon it days away from announcing it. The team and I were there the whole day and not another person passed by to question whether they had just stumbled out of a coma only to question if it was already Halloween and that they were witnessing goth shakespeare in the nowhere park. It’s like an empty grass-equivalent of hogwarts except not hypocritically two-faced, written by a backwards-liberal fascist, and with enslaved goblins collecting the park’s litter. The nearest in-town residents either have to drive and get lost to accidentally find their way to the park’s parking lot that only really borders the forests surrounding the park that you’d then need to get lost in to accidentally find yourself on the other side to the park itself. That or you’d need to be running away from jason vorbeers let’s say jason x cause jason from space sounds hilarious so far down the nowhere road that you eventually end up through the forest only to have to face space jason in the eventless soccer field portion of the park. Say as if some
I don’t straight up think I’m a seer but there was an impending sense of loss by the end of the shoot that day, and it definitely was more than just the fact that at the time 45% of the 4.5-hour thing was still left to shoot. I’m also not emotionally rigid with golden hour sunlight. Wait, sorry I lied. The sense of loss was present the whole time there. Walking through its sun-through-high-trees-flared desolation throughout the solo hours, walking 10-minute cycles back-and-forths from the shooting battleground to the off-map gravel road entrance, untetris-loading a climax battle’s worth-production set out of a freakin 2013 blue hyundai accent, actually another mystical place not just cause I cinematically hardcore-f^$&$d within it while parked by the lakeshore under the black-as-my-soul night sky and somehow no cops drove by, but also cause it defeats anyone else’s purpose for requiring a white kidnap van to fit trafficked labourers / movie sets into.
I’m not a seer but I guess I was onto something when I knew we were even in those numbers never going to be together [not-together] in that ridiculous scale and space again, especially now when the concept of being with people from more than 3 households is not recommended. Poetically this is the same vive-quebon-laflaveur-poutine-caring government that required you to find that out in english through the news cause no of course they’re not trying to literally find fine print ways to murder the entire anglo populace, just read the subway emergency guidelines so long as you have 26/20 vision; remember it’s not systemic totalitarianism if they’re following bill 101 which they pretty much made and totally isn’t anglo-purge-in-a-bill and it’s not conspiring genocide if they just wanna preserve their culture, just ask any not-dead-yet nazi, that or if legault / his little princes just say “no that’s not true you’re lying poutine feve laveauto” Pieces of shit. At least it’s another excuse to get the news from Amanda Kline. What a graceful woman. So how do you not lose your absolute mind this coming from a clinically-certified crazy-pill-taker? Wait that was paradoxical. I should never give anyone advice.
Uuuuh hypothetical proposition. Ask yourself why you’ve given yourself the right to exist. My recommendation choose a concept, not another human, the latter comes with their own self-interests and zero guaranteed trust. Ask yourself how…uuh rEalIstIc?[??[!!]??] you are about your dreams. Then gauge that with how utterly sheer-force-of-nature you’re prone to understated-powerheadbang to?[.] … . . .. .
Just, yeah. You’re good to go.
Okay this is what I read to the team while sitting 2/3 of a kilometer away from them on a skateboard out of a megaphone cause it’s funnier and balances the dirgey speech pathos existential…
I clearly wanna resume and be done with this gb session.
So to maintain and not edit the integrity of what was written at the time, I have not re-read what I wrote and also cause I consistently future-embarrass myself.