bipolarowl

Nine dollars and seventy-five cents. Last time I checked, half of it was in pennies. No, this isn't an O. Henry story with your cheesy-happy ending. I wish it was, but it isn't. I think it started when I wanted to make an art film with my friends. They had recorded an experimental song about something obscure that I don't care to contemplate. The point was, I thought it would be cool--and it would get me some publicity--if I made an art film. Of course, I had said that all art films were stupid, nine-minute long pieces with disturbing topics and backmasking. But I could take that back easily. I think so, at least. My dad had a video c

I ran down the hallway excitedly, occasionally tripping over the schoolbooks people had left out because their lockers were too cramped. Usually, one of the main rules of school was "no running in the hallways", but I could make an exception. Before I took a seat down at my art class--which I abhorred in every form--I quietly asked if I could be excused from today's class to film. Well, not asked. Begged. I've no passion for actual art--I can't draw a believable stick figure. And surprisingly, I got my way. I took photos of people drawing, hoping that I took enough to make a stop-motion segment. Then I left the classroom and shot the ha

"Ooh, neat. Is this a Ford Taurus? 1997?" Paige asked. I rolled my eyes--it said that right on the car. "Yes." I replied. Paige's car was down, and so for some reason I had to be the one to drive her home. And plus, she just had to work on this art film of hers, even though it's probably about an hour long. Shades Of Earth is about three minutes, so unless she looped it twenty times in a row, she had obviously filmed too much. She got in on shotgun, and turned on her camera, holding it a few inches away from the window. I wanted to watch her, but I had to pay attention. I still didn't have my license--I only had a learner's permit--but I

I didn't want to. But I did it anyway. Making my way down the street, hearing the extended v o c a b u l a r y of businessmen trudging past and the i n c o h e r e n t, p r a t t l i n g g o s s i p of fellow teenagers walking past on their cell phones without a care in the world And I was only p o n d e r i n g over the likeliness of me having to s c u r r y though a ghetto neighborhood at nine at night in order to get home and soon I'm caught in a c l u s t e r of performers from the local arts center not too far away all of them warming up on the street with scales of continuous notes, seeming to last

They were putting on bright coral pink lipstick while pulling their car over. Back down we go again, back into the repetitive sentences, with the slightest bit of change every now and then They were putting on bright coral pink lipstick while pulling their car over. They were listening to the radio, and it was playing an old Carole King song. And back down they went again, back into what they think of as life in hell, surrounded by bored, twisted and self-assured reflections of themselves They were listening to the radio, and it was playing an old Carole King song. They noticed that the yellow linoleum floor was the same color of