Guidone.

November 22, 2013

fellini-8.5-glasses-hate-coatI’m having a Guido crisis.

Not in the fighting of swarms from my harem of hot babes way, though, that too has been going on. More in the, I don’t know what I want to say and we haven’t yet gotten to the part where everyone’s peachy keen with that and decides to dance around a spaceship with musical clowns way.

If you haven’t seen Otto é Mezzo (8 1/2) I recommend it highly. I have this strong belief that everyone has had a major Guido crisis at least once in their lives. To be clear, Marcello Mastroianni plays Guido, a moderately successful filmmaker who just has throngs of money thrown at him for his next picture– which he can’t decide what to do with. Rather, he doesn’t know what he wants to say.

The movie follows his decision making process of figuring out what it is he wants to say, but in the end he never figures it out. I want to say something trite like “OMG, SPOILERZZZZ” but in all honesty, knowing that piece of the ending shouldn’t deter you from at least trying to watch the film. It’s a fascinating tale about this guy, who essentially ruins everything good in his life trying to figure out what to do next. You know, as opposed to being a grownup and admitting he’s not really sure. It’s really dreamy, and even if you’re not really into Fellini’s other works, you should try and see this. If only for the snobby street cred you’ll get after the fact.

Lately I’ve been having what I refer to as a Guido crisis. I’m not trying to say anything meaningful, or even anything with a particular je ne sais quoi. I’m not bubbling with inexpressible energies, or trying to make sense of some inexplicable internal knots. All I can surmise right now, is that I want beds. I want them to be from a hospital, and I want them to be vintage.

I figured drawing these beds would somehow placate this emptiness in my bones. I was wrong. If I go around drawing beds, the only thing that happens is that I get better at drawing beds. Sometimes when I’m writing things, I just feel relieved of whatever I was trying to get out of my system. Something that had been building up gets depressurized, and I’m able to calm down a bit. (Physiologically speaking.) Right now I’m having a desire to consume a certain kind of media, instead of making it. (Because making it allows you to be inherently intimate with its flaws, or disregard them entirely, and its bananas blahblahblahhhhhh.)

Right now I suppose I’m too beat to design the box to think out of, or to search for the proper box in which to build upon. Or I should say, I’m not sure which preexisting elements I’d like to bring together to create a new box which I could either use like a dollhouse by rearranging everything, or just use as a box think out of.

And all I’ve got is beds.

I have nothing that makes me feel bursting at the seems, which on the one hand is pleasant, but on the other hand I feel insatiable. Just in that I’m so used to being able to have a high output of ideas that interest me, that when I don’t it just feels weird. Strangely enough, movement has been able to satisfy some of my creative output lately, but I’ve not been feeling well enough to keep going to my dance classes the last few weeks.

I guess the strange thing for me is that I don’t have anything within the vast range of emotional switchboarding that I’m trying to make accessible to others, or to compartmentalize for myself.

It’s odd!

I wish I were at that point where everyone’s dancing around the spaceship, happy that Guido can finally admit he has no idea what he wants to say. I’m afraid I’m still in the daydreaming point of his journey.

But who knows…Maybe my next thing will be “How Saraghina Got Her Groove Back”?

8etdemi 26

I guess we’ll have to see.

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One Response to “Guidone.”

  1. […] I have a confession to make. The last few months, along with a slew of other things, I’ve been a big baby. Instead of admitting I didn’t have the joie de blog necessary to keep this train a-rollin’, I just went M.I.A. This was…probably not a good choice. Instead of going wax poetic on the excuse wagon and being like “I took some time off to do some soul searching” (which…kind of happened?) I’m going to be blunt: I was having a Guido crisis. […]

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