I mounted, with charly. Down ends the previous Sunday. We just roll the Valladares completely level reaching the pyramid Tyrrell, on the red planet. We wanted a red dust storm and we succeeded, but the red dust will not leave this set ever, as we have all lost. Well, really was all over, we ended up shooting today (In the absence of a fund for the burger Voyage to the Bottom of the Mind).
The multitude of feelings running through my veins are unspeakable. I had never enjoyed so much shooting, I've never overwhelmed therefore I have never felt so much pressure, I've never felt more alone, I never sense dear, I have never been better with my friends, I have never come to be more proud of what we are doing. Pain and pleasure are intertwined forming a kind of pasta unbreakable magic. Some chapters talk about me more deeply than any movie. If someday someone idly analyze in detail the (hopefully no one wants to waste time on it) could find everything I think and feel about just about everything. I've never been more sincere and I have never counted more directly what worries me.
But it was still stronger. Sometimes the dialogues of the characters speak to me directly, as if I had previously known written answers to questions that haunt me.
today announced that Pepe have been the electric to the hospital because you have dropped the roof of the elevator machine room. I do not know if I can go to him.
What was I saying? I lose my pot. The scary and exciting connection between reality and fiction, precisely the cases for which we speak in several chapters, with their dark meta-floods my head continuously deteriorated, making more and more difficult to know who I am, what I want and feel, if I live a really disappointing, or a wonderful fiction painfully temporary.
Who is everyone really? what is, what he believes is what he does, what you feel, what you want? As in the logbook of the captain, I find that I need to end the mission wildly, but what is the damn mission? I explained it properly. "Find a habitable planet? "Make my life a planet habitable? "Escape to another planet to escape the Earth? To live a fiction solid and stable, as that absurd ship that travels Valladares, and lock it forever? Which is better, to live or dream, as I said in last week's chapter?
Now that the protagonists of the series vanish in this sea of \u200b\u200bcars and trips to the end of shooting (just like in The American Night), I am wandering around the sets before dismantling. My toys, my toys are gone, I no longer around, noisy and disturbed. I am no longer demiurge, I become a normal guy, throwing heavy. How I miss them, how I miss my God! Not so much people like the characters, the small creatures that you humbly for generating underworld of fiction. Querejeta, where are you? Delicious Where is your chin? Lorna, my demon of anxiety and desire, I can not live without your innocence and your legs look endless. Valladares, my alter ego, once again lament for feeling slighted, not to find anyone of the stature, and recognizes, by God, you do not measure up. Hoffman, honest and brutal, Wollensky, lovesick and groggy. The damned Roswell, nihilistic rage, always on the counter. I am all and all belong to me. All are true, take a piece of my character, for better or for worse. Not bad, recognize that you are what you say its characters, especially if it is a ridiculous comedy ominously.
I'm just honest if I lie. Just tell the truth if I drive a farce. Comedy is the language, the key to existence. Laughter is the mechanism that opens the doors. Pain is your essence. The pain and violence. The engine of comedy is anger, and generosity more innocent its purpose. Turn the other cheek with a clown nose, silly die happily.
