February 15, 2006
Last week, I was going to write something about an anecdote my literature professor told us; about being nine years old and walking a mile down a country road, barefoot, dime in hand, to see James Whale's Frankenstein at the local cinema; and then afterwards, the sun having set, being terrified at the prospect of walking back; and hearing behind him all the way home what surely were Karloff's heavy boots, clomping along in slow pursuit. My professor is 82, and I imagine there are more than a handful of good stories where that one came from.
I had something else to say about that, but it's slipped my mind. Something about the stories I'll tell when I'm 100. I got sidetracked on a number of things when I jaunted down to Austin last weekend to lock myself into an office and finish a project I started eight or so months ago and have been working on pretty much ever since, under what for a long time were pretty undesirable conditions. I won't go into the whole story, but now it's all done, water under the bridge. I ain't on Evan Mather's level by a long shot, but overall I'm pretty happy with the 10 or so minutes of titles and animation that will be showing up on the big screen next month, starting at SXSW.
The night before leaving, I shot an hour of footage for a new short documentary of my own. Then I caught a Monday morning flight so early it qualified as a red-eye, getting home just in time to decide to skip class.
Posted by David Lowery at February 15, 2006 03:38 AM
Comments
Your professor's story reminds me . . . I need to watch Spirit of the Beehive again real soon.
Posted by: Darren at February 16, 2006 02:41 PM