Suffering Fameitis

This week I have had two incredibly interesting Cinematic experiences but very different as well.  The first was on Wednesday where I met the biggest douchebag I will probably ever meet. Albert Serra, a not very famous, not very talented, but recognised director by a very small sector here in Barcelona. He was projecting a movie he had filmed for the MACBA which runs 190 minutes long and is the most boring piece of audiovisual material ever conceived. Now the problem I have with Mr. Serra is not the fact that he is a horrible director, but that he is a horrible person.  My first impression of Albert Serra was that of arrogance, the way he dressed, the way he walked, and the fact that he didn’t look at anyone in the eyes when he talked to them, it was a close as you can get to “talk to the hand” wthout having to actually raise it. On top of that, the guy was wearing a fur coat which din’t sit well with me at all.

Normally at the Museum, when there is a projection planned, the director normally comes around 1 hour before to check that everything is working and to his liking, so that something can be fixed in time just in case.  He showed two minutes before it was time to start, complaining about the quality of the screen, it wasn’t that anything was wrong, just that it wasn’t the best quality you can find and anything less wasn’t going to suite him.  The projection was free, which meant that anyone could come and see the film equivalent of watching grass grow, and if anyone got bored, anyone could leave when they felt like it. Which was a beautiful thing to watch seeing as almost everyone that walked in to watch the movie, left a few minutes later. By the end of the night all that were left was the director and a few of his friends. Who instead of feeling humbled by the fat that nobody liked what he did, began screaming at and criticising both the people that walked out because they were making too much noise, and the museum and I quote the director here screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of the room “is a piece of shit”. How very graceful of him.

On the contrary last night, I went to a screaning of short films by three new young directors who had just graduated from Catalunya’s most important film school.  It was great to see the excitement and enthusiasm that permeated the movie theater as friends ad family came to see these fimls that the directors had spent over a year making and poured their heart and soul into. Of course the films weren’t perfect although all three of them were very entertaining, especially the third one, done by my good friend (and of course my opinion might be a little biased because of that) Fernando Pomares. His short film Alto Sauce had the whole theater gripping their seats, many I’m sure,  aware that they were witnessing the work of an incredible talent.  These two experiences were so diametrically opposed that it got me thinking about certain things.  I wondered what attitute Albert Serra had when he was gettign ready to show his first short film, I’m sure it was quite different to the way he acted at the MACBA.  I wondered, if he has changed over time, what is it that made him this way, possibly his own illusion that recognition makes him somehow a more important person and  wondered if it was possible that the same thing might happen to the three young directors who just debuted their work yesterday.

Lush Inspiration?

I find myself wondering how is it possible that many classic writers were also known alcoholics.  Does the consumption of alcohol really help anyone to write?  In my mind I find this impossible. First off alcohol does not make anyone smarter or more interesting. Have you ever gone out with your friends, and they get drunk, and you don’t?  The conversations that would seem fascinating if you were in the same state as them, seem absolutely ridiculous and make no sense sober.  Secondly, how can anyone keep the level of discipline and rigour that is involved in writing whilst drunk?

The reason I raise this question is that yesterday I had a few, it was a good friend of mine’s birthday, plus another buddie was visiting from Paris, and the mood was festive, the problem is that it’s Saturday and I have to go to work. My head hurts, my stomach won’t stop grumbling, and even keeping my eyes open feels like a difficult task.  I can not imagine sitting at my desk at home trying to focus on my novel, alcohol produces in me the exact opposite effect that it produced for Ernest Hemingway.  I am trying to picture how it was possible for him to churn out one book after the other in the state (according to what people say, personally I never met the man) he was in.

Many people have this romantic idea that alcohol and drugs can reinforce an artist’s creativity, I just don’t see how it’s possible.  If a great artist produces a masterpiece, be it a painting, a song, or a story, and he confesses to having been under the influence, I can’t help but think -If he did that buzzed, I can’t imagine what he would have come up with sober-.

All alcohol does for is make me want to eat fast food and curl up on the couch and watch anything that doesn’t challenge me to think at all.

Of No Great Importance

I never know how to start these things. I know what I want to express, reflect, and share on this blog. I just don’t know how to succintly define it. I guess I can start by saying that I am an aspiring writer with a lot on my mind and I need somewhere to vent and unravel the chaos that swirls through my brain every day. Here you will find everything from short stories, simple thoughts, rants and just about anything (that I find interesting) that crosses my mind.

One thing people need to know is that I don’t pretend to be an expert on anything. I don’t research, or back up my ideas with facts. This is simply my take on things, and sometimes I may be completely off base but I’m fine with that.

Hopefully, even if people don’t agree with what I say, they will find it interesting, refreshing or at least original.  Anyway I don’t want to drag on so just let me conclude by saying that I invite the readers to critisize, anything and everything that they read on this blog.  Any input is always god for a writer.