Left Unsaid 2: unsaid

unsaid

by Alissa Nutting

Leaving things unsaid is not my biggest problem. I tend to say too much. I used to want to say too much so badly that I lied if I didn't have enough to say. I did this until I became involved in a serious relationship, and suddenly had someone there who could attest to the lack of validity of everything I was saying. It is not fun to get busted. I will say that.

Luckily, advances in information technology now give me new things to say all the time. There are not enough hours in the day to even cover it. Still, there is something unfulfilling in spreading around news about people and events that have no relation to me. I find it easy to go dead in the eyes when I’m not the heroine.

Once, when I was about five or six, a childhood friend and I left my grandmother’s house and went to the bathroom in the backyard trees. “I do this all the time,” I told my friend. That was a lie. I had also told her that I lived on a farm where I had to rise before dawn to extract milk from the udders of cows and goats (in truth we did not own even a goldfish), and that somewhere on the premises of my family’s plot of land there was an electric spanking machine.

When I finished, I decided it would be funny to wipe some on the side of the neighbor’s house. We placed it on a leaf and then swirled it in a giant circle. “They will think a bird did it,” I masterminded. I’m not sure what prompted me to think they’d believe a bird would make a fecal circle about a foot in circumference on the house’s siding. Later we saw the neighbor out front with a hose.

I think about this sometimes, because that is what it feels like to talk about other people. Unsatisfying, like I’m just spreading something around with a leaf.

And the unsaid does not have any sort of forgiving middle ground. To leave things unsaid means that even hints are off the table. It would seem that stating, “I’d love to say more but I shouldn’t,” or “I promised not to tell,” would be a happy medium whereby I could acknowledge the unsaid without actually spilling the beans. But saying this is even worse. In the speculative economy of secrets and information, such statements raise the stock price of the unsaid so much that people will offer irresistible temptations (alcohol, email fwds with puppy pictures, words such as ‘please’) in order to make me squeal.

People like it when things are said. Words often garner responses of laughter and smiles. Sometimes there is even applause. I suppose this is what I leave unsaid when I say everything: I want to be liked. Occasionally I’ll even comment upon things to my dog, hoping that he will think me clever, love me more, want to cuddle. But to him, it’s probably just the same if I don’t even speak. Maybe I could go to an unsaid rehabilitation clinic lead by dogs and learn to separate saying things and being valued. I think this therapy would work for a time, while I stayed there. But when I left I’d probably go right back to the way I was.

*************************************************************

Alissa Nutting is a current Schaeffer Fellow in fiction at the University of Nevada Las Vegas, where she is finishing her PhD in English. Her first collection of short stories, Unclean Jobs for Women and Girls, was selected by Ben Marcus for publication through Starcherone Books in Fall 2010. Her work has been published in such journals as Tin House, Fence, and Mid-American Review.

Noah Segan: Actor, Underdog, Replacements Fan

Still from Still Green.

Get hip to Noah Segan.

This is not to say, merely: 1) watch a film of his, 2) check off "knowing of him" form your hip independent film credibility list, 3) then move on to the next actor/director/cinematographer whom a friend just told you about. Definitely, check out a film of his. But, watch it closely. Watch Noah Segan closely. See how he fits right into each role.Fits right into each film, and changes it.

This happens whether the role is expansive and lets him unravel his range, or it is minor and showcases more tight and nuanced gestures. The thing is, he is well-versed and carefully-composed for each role.Yet, it is not about posturing, pretending, and pulling one over the audience. You note his eyes, and trust that he shares the same head-space of his character. The temperament, the tone of voice, and the gait are just some of the things that are seamlessly right-on in each Noah Segan role I've seen.

Consider him in Brick, the sleeper hit that is bound to impact the genres of noir, teen film, and coming-of-age. Noah's leather-jacket strutting, edgy loner, Dode, tears across the screen from the moment he is introduced. His moodiness is palpable, and by the film's end, it is easy to see how this is his, "Wow, who is this actor?" role. In What We Do is Secret, he embodies Don Bolles, the singular drummer of the explosive LA punk band, The Germs. He does so without that: "Hey, look at me. I'm a great actor doing a spot-on job in this period piece. I'm as authentic as my period-piece clothing, man!" unfortunate grandiosity that can easily plague a bio-pic. Naturally, Noah call his conviction-based methods "punk rock acting."

Noah's back-to-back acting schedule is paying off, with several films coming out this year. Two of those films (The Brothers Bloom, Still Green) opened nationally in May. Rian Johnson follows up Brick with The Brothers Bloom, a one-last-con story that is as stylistically sharp as it is emotionally textured. Noah rovides an "in the pocket" (to use a jazz term) cameo that adds spunk to the cornucopia of characters we meet. Still Green (a film previously covered on this site) anchors Noah as the visceral, tumultuous underbelly of a compelling ensemble, as they come-to-terms with the vanishing of youth's clear horizons. Then, we will get to see Noah in a slew of much-anticipated suspense and gore films that will offer dark, strange places for him and the audience to explore. Deadgirl, one of these flicks, has received glowing reviews on the festival circuit, and will potentially floor audiences in its not-soon-enough (but upcoming) theatrical release. However, this is not the story of a flash-in-the-pan actor being typecast any time soon. With each film, we seem him honing his craft, expanding his palette and grounding his artistic intentions.

In a phone interview with Noah Segan, I had the chance to hear him unpack his methods, explain why he does what he does, and talk about the artists who have informed his creative headspace. Just as his acting is not filled with fluff and obvious proclamations, neither are his thoughts. I heard the vision of a clear mind that is not afraid to do the real work of bringing to life the dynamic and vivid characters he takes on. As a sign of his well-honed skills getting noticed, Noah is spending the summer acting in the influential director Monte Hellman's upcoming film. As opposed to an actor whose career may come and go with the whims of the film market, something tells me that Noah will stick around. Which is to say, watch a film of Noah's. Watch a few.

* The Brothers Bloom opened in New York & Los Angeles on May 15, 2009 & nationally May 22. Still Green opened in Worcester, MA on May 15, 2009. Still Green will be playing at Naples, Florida's Pavillion CInema 10 June 19-25, 2009; and at Los Angeles's AFI Theater on June 27 as part of NYU's Tisch West Alumni Council’s Cinema Club Screening Series. Other cities TBA on Still Green's official site.

“Dode appears, dusty and black.”

NS: Hey, there

CE: Hi, Noah. How are you?

NS: I'm good. How are you doing?

CE: Pretty good. I'm an old friend of Georgia's and Doug's. I have this interview web site, where I interview people, nonchalantly.

NS: Well, I'm a very nonchalant guy.

CE: That's good. I'm quite a fan of your acting, so far. I'm going to ask you some questions about Still Green, and then some questions about your style. How you get to form these characters, that sort of thing

NS: Yeah.

CE: What lead you to Still Green?

NS: Well, when the movie was happening, I had come off of a really long year. I like to go through fits and spurts, where I like to work back to back to back to back, and wear myself out. Then, I'll take a little bit of a break. I had been just working my butt off, doing all types of fun stuff, like the movie about The Germs [What We Do Is Secret]. I got a call from people who I had worked with at the time, who were packaging together Still Green. Because it was an in-house project, they had come to me with it. I read the script, talked to Jon [Jon Artigo, the director]. Jon is about the most gregarious, friendly, funny guy you'll ever hope to meet. That made me feel good about it. I appreciated that it was an in-house project–- that everybody came with such high recommendations. It made me feel honored to be included in that, so I jumped right on it.

CE: When you say in-house, who in the Still Green family were you familiar with?

NS: I was familiar with Ryan Kelley, who was represented by the same people who, at the time, I was. They had packaged him into it.

CE: You guys know each other from before. You're also mixing with Jon, Andrea, Georgia and Doug, who have been working together for a while.

NS: Exactly. It's always a good thing to work with your friends, and then work with other people who are friends, because it immediately gives the sense that people are collaborators. If they are already set up in a unit, as a team, then they like to work together as a team. It gives me all the confidence in the world that I can join that team and collaborate, which is why I like working on little movies.

CE: Right. Speaking of that, I like the nuances you throw in with your character. I want to know about certain things you brought to the character, or that you felt compelled to focus on. Then, I want to know more about the drawing you do in the film.

NS: One of the things that I immediately picked up on when I came to Florida– I picked up on it in the script, but I really picked up on it when I came to Florida–- was how beach-oriented the cast was. You've got this cast of very good-looking kids who are in great shape, and are very tan and very active. Of course, that immediately gave me the inclination to stay inside [laughs] and put on a couple pounds, which I tried to do for this role. And just create the history of Sean being a little distant, and not necessarily being someone who is out doing and acting exactly like his friends all the time. Because, after his freak-out, the guy became an introvert. One of the ways you could show that is physically. It was a distinct choice that I made, and I think it came across. It definitely felt, when we were making it, like it came across, and it helped me to stay in character.

The drawings: I tend to play characters who have very specific skill sets, whether it's a musician or an artist. The wonderful part about being an actor is that you get to take on all of these jobs and persona that you don't have— to get to really be everything. I grew up in an artistic family, and I've had the pleasure of being surrounded by artistic people. But, I don't draw regularly and I'm not as accomplished an artist as Sean was. I had some help from the art department with drawing, but I made the effort to study art theory, and so was able to do a lot of that myself.That ended up being a big influence on the character. If you're acting like the dude you're playing, then the lines become even more blurred. I tried to create a guy who is sedentary and introverted– physically and emotionally.

CE: It works very well. With your characters that I've seen-- but especially in Brick–- there's a sharp edge in each one. They seem to straddle the line between– the characters are very sincere, but stylized. At what point is it stylized, at what point is it just this sharply wrought-out character that you make? Does it become emotionally taxing for you to get in these places and fully form these characters?

NS: I think it depends. Brick is an interesting example, because the only description of Dode in the script is when he first appears from behind the dumpster. It says: “Dode appears, dusty and black.” [My italics and punctuation.] There was no inclination to take him any other way, other than dusty and black. Well, that's a beautiful phrase, and that's beautiful prose, but what does that mean, in a literal sense, in a visual sense?

When it came time to designing the character, it just sort of came. The leather jacket came, and the boots came, and the haircut came. These were all things that I came to the director, Rian Johnson, with. These were things we spoke about, and I asked for, and we worked out. It happened in a very natural way. The same thing happened on Still Green. There are times where I've had to really push it, The Germs movie being a great example. Because, I was imitating a real-life person, who not only did people know, who not only was a well-known figure, but who I was a big fan of.

CE: Yeah, yeah.

NS: I had a lot of pressure, and I had very little wiggle room. I had to really be this guy. In that respect, that was literally putting on a costume and having to spend time with Don [Bolles], who I was playing. I had to learn how he acted, how he spoke, how he dressed, how he played drums. He had to teach me how to play drums. That was a lot more academic, a lot more mathematical, doing that part.

CE: Was it satisfying, after The Germs movie, to act out this other type of character, in Still Green?

NS: Well, that was part of why I was drawn to Still Green and Sean in the first place. It was a very straining experience, because it's a fictional character. It's a guy who is going to evolve based on how I interpret him, how the director interprets him, as written in the script. That allows for things that weren't in the script to come out and help move the story forward. As opposed to having to do something physically right, or otherwise everyone goes: “Oh, that doesn't work.” So, that was very satisfying. It was also challenging, because it was really switching gears.

CE: With The Germs film, were you satisfied, in the end– with your version of Don Bolles?

NS: I think I am. I'm satisfied with the authenticity of Don, and of how authentic I was able to make him. In the story, it has a lot of drama, and there needed to be comic relief. In the film, that fell upon Don–- for me–- to be the comic relief. Don is a very funny guy, and he's a very irreverent guy, and he's a very smart guy. But, he's also a very deep guy. He was also very involved in a lot of the drama, and the tragedy, and the instigation that went on in the real story and during that time. Of course, in a movie where you're trying to distill five or six years of four people's lives into two hours, you can't get that all across. That became sort of a challenge.

CE: That's what happens in a bio-pic movie. You'll get a version of the facts, but if it feels authentic, that's great. That must have been hard, for the director [Rodger Grossman] to squeeze that story within two hours, and make himself happy and the potential Germs fans happy; while, at the same time, try to get something authentic. It must have been an exciting challenge for you guys.

NS: Yeah. It was very challenging for the people who were really there. What was so beneficial about making the movie was that we had The Germs there. Pat Smear, Lorna Doom, and Don Bolles were there with us. And Hellin Killer and Paul Roessler and the whole group of people that are still around. You know, they are the circle: that whole "Circle One" thing-- that is the song, that is the spirit of The Germs.

Still from What We Do Is Secret.

"Us punk rock actors are

few and far between."

NS: Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever. That was my major role in a studio film. It was also something that was very new because I had to be the capable, heroic man. I didn't know about that. I was, like, wait a minute, I play drug addicts and degenerates in movies. I don't play the guy who gets the girl, and he's a bad guy who just makes the right decisions. I don't know who that guy is. So, I ended up watching Bruce Willis's movies.

CE: Ha.

NS: I got hip to Bruce Willis. It was, like, you know what? He's able to hold his own, and it made a lot of sense. I connected to it, for that.

CE: Yeah, yeah.

NS: I definitely make a very strong connection to music and film for my research, and to make sure that I get in the zone.

CE: You had mentioned The Replacements as an influence, especially while making Brick. I grew up about half an hour from San Clemente, where you filmed Brick. In the Laguna Hills/ Laguna Beach area. I felt the kind of dynamic, complex, darker suburban high school experience that's in Brick. I mean, not the drugs and all that, but more the idiosyncratic head space, and that nothing's really clear and good and polished. The Replacements were huge for me in high school, because of that. You just walk down those nice, clean suburban streets of Orange County, and listen to that lyric: "We'll inherit the Earth,/ But we don't want it!" And it fits, you know?

NS: One day, when I was a teenager, I heard Let It Be on vinyl. Somebody put on Let it Be, and I was, like: “Wait a minute. These guys are completely telling me everything I needed to hear." And with the utmost sincerity and truth, in spite of everything, in spite of–- it sounds like they shouldn't be able to do this.

CE: Right, right.

NS: If you could sound just like the underdog, that's what those guys did. There's a great biography you should check out on the 'Mats [The Replacements: All Over But the Shouting: An Oral History by Jim Walsh]. It's an oral history, like a Please Kill Me kind of thing. I mean, if I can work with anybody outside of the film industry, creatively, it would be Mr. Westerberg. I think that the guy is able to channel a very specific kind of truth.

That's how I tend to pick and choose my roles, and how I tend to perform my roles. I tend to perform characters who work in spite of, and to me that's how Westerberg works. Like, how do you tell the truth in spite of, and then fill in the blank. That's what their music is to me. Like: in spite of not having a girl, not having a job, not being at home, not knowing what the fuck to do. How do you get that out there? I tend to play those roles and I tend to listen to that music and watch those movies.

CE: Yeah, I see that in your face, with your different characters.

There's this ballsy, ballsy conviction, that you throw around, but it's, kind of, stuck in place. It's mixing with this other energy, where your characters are coming from. It's really strong. I think some actors— younger, older, but especially younger actors— will try to do that in a stylized way, and try to hype it up, but it doesn't seem sincere.

There's some real conviction in where you're coming from. Like you're saying, you're coming from the voice of the underdog. That energy comes out in your characters, definitely.

NS: Well, you know, us punk rock actors are few and far between.

CE:[Laughs.] Right.

NS: [Laughs.] There's not a lot of us punk rock actors. But that's what I call it, punk rock acting.

CE: Oh, that's a good way to put it. That's a good way to put it.

The mark of a true auteur

CE: So, tell me about working on The Brothers Bloom.

NS: Rian [Johnson] was doing The Brothers Bloom. Because the Brick family is just that–- a family–- he made sure that a couple of us from Brick did The Brothers Bloom. They were trotting all around Europe, and I came out to Serbia to do a little part that's in the beginning of the movie. I play opposite Mark Ruffalo in the scene. I got to hang out with Mark and spend time with Adrian [Brody], and ended up getting to know the new family. It was amazing.

I mean, the mark of a true auteur is coming up with a flick, and then hiring the exact right people to work on that flick with you.

CE: Right.

NS: Rian does that like I've never seen it done before. I showed up to Serbia and I met these actors, whom I'm a huge fan of. I'm a huge fan of these actors, and it was like hanging out with an uncle, like an estranged uncle or a second cousin, whom I just happened to have not seen for a long time. There's just this connection. It was a fun time. The role is just a simple role. We figured it out when I got there. The guy who I play is called The Duke. He is loosely based on the Thin White Duke [David Bowie], of course, because everything is [laughs].

I just showed up, played this fun character, and I had a great time. Just like I said, it's sort of like being at home, and I had to go halfway around the world to find it. It's going to be a really good flick, and I don't even have a big part in it.

CE: That sounds sweet. When you see the work and read the writing of different filmmakers, especially auteurs, you notice that they develop these families. Like Jarmusch, and the actors he works with. And the older auteurs [who wrote for Cahiers du Cinema]–- Rohmer, Godard and all those cats. And more recently, Spike Lee and Linklater, they're working with the same people again and again. It's amazing to see, like you're saying, the families that emerge. The actors will play various characters, and new actors join in on later films, but it doesn't seem out of place.

NS: To me, the most important connection while making a movie, whether the movie is good or bad, or the script is good or bad, or the actors are good or bad: it could all be helped and pushed along as long as we they're all making the same movie. I don't know if that makes any sense to you.

CE: No, it does. It does.

NS: The only way that I could put it is that we're all making the same movie. We're all trying to do our little part to get the same grand scheme and concept across. That's where that collaboration and that family come in. And that's why, as long as he'll have me, I'll drop whatever the fuck I'm doing and show up for Rian Johnson. It's an honor. To be able do it. It makes me feel complete. It makes me feel like I've done my job.

CE: Definitely.

"And that's what I want to do." ....

"And that's communication."

NS: Let's get this out of the way. My favorite movie is The Cockfighter. It's a Monte Hellman film, starring Warren Oates. Monte is my favorite director and Warren is my favorite actor. Those are guys who worked together a lot. Warren also worked with Peckinpah a lot–- Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia is another favorite movie of mine. Those were guys who found each other, and found out that they could get a grand scheme across by maintaining that relationship.

CE: Speaking of Peckinpah. In Bring Me the Head, there's that scene where he [Warren Oates] is running through the mountains and cavorting with the woman, then she's taken away by the biker [Kris Kristofferson]. Later, Warren shoots both bikers dead, in retalliation. It's just, it's just so jarring. At the same time, when I saw it, I was floored with the grace that the guy had.

NS: It is a Peckinpah film: it's all about the great, true, honest, sincere sort of violence that you would expect out of it. Something that I respond to is: there has been an emasculation of young men in film, as far as I'm concerned, over the last 15, 20 years.

Masculinity, and the true archetypical concept of what it means to be a man– it's been lost. Of course, you go into the western, and the John Houston, John Sturges, and the John Ford whole concept, and then you bring it up to Hellman and Peckinpah, in the 60's and 70's. These were guys who were telling very basic stories. They were telling classic tragedies, in an accessible way.

CE: Right.

NS: I don't see a lot of that being made these days. And so, I really appreciate it. I think movies like that cover the basics. There's a reason why we still read Shakespeare today. Those guys were telling very similar stories. And that's what I want to do. That's why I do it: to get very basic concepts of communication across.

CE: Yeah.

NS: Then, we have a guy like David Lynch. His movies are pure cinema. In my mind, I don't think that there's really anybody who is more versed in using cinema to communicate what you can only communicate in cinema, than Lynch. He uses every element of film– whether it's narrative, whether it's dialogue, whether it's visual, whether it's movement, or editing– and it's to tell a complete story that is a cinematic story. That isn't a painting, or a picture, or an essay.

I think that Lynch goes beyond all of the tricks to create a visceral experience that could only be described in a movie. And I want to see more of that. I think guys like P.T. Anderson do it. I think, obviously, guys like Rian Johnson do it. I think Chan-Wook Park does it. Chan-Wook Park's movies, coming out of Korea, are like the best movies being made right now. The Vengeance Trilogy, in my mind, is the best series in years.

CE: Old Boy is so, so gorgeous and strong.

NS: He's taking very basic concepts of masculinity, of revenge, of responsibility– things that existed thousands of years ago, in stories– and he is making them accessible, in a modern sense. And that's communication. That is something to work toward. It's out there. It's happening. And I'm just trying to do my little part and make my way in there, so I get to hang out with some of these guys.

CE: Just to go back to what you were saying about everybody making the same movie. I definitely hear that– my father is a theater professor, so I can see where you're getting with that.

It seemed like that happened on Still Green, on some level. There are no actors that are acting outside of the other ones, or beyond the others. All the scenes work together to tell you the story of this house that these friends are in, and of their time together. How did you like working with the family of Still Green, so to speak?

NS: They were really accommodating, they really went beyond. I've worked on a lot of independent films where I can say the people were accommodating and helpful for an independent movie, which means, all things considered, it was still great. On Still Green: in any respect-- on the biggest movie in the world-- these people would have still been the most helpful, the most accommodating, the most understanding group. From Jon [Artigo], who is– not only is Jon always in a good mood, but he's very accessible. He's always willing to give it up to you as an actor, in terms of forcing you to do your job and stop and help you work something out. He doesn't pretend to have all the answers, but he's there to guide you, he's there to direct you. He did a great job of it! Then, being able to have the writer on the set, being able to have Georgia [Menides] there, is a huge blessing and a huge benefit. You end up with these questions, like: "What is the intent here?" And you want an answer– you want a strict answer, sometimes. Of course, the person who wrote the thing is going to be the best and most qualified to give you that answer. It was great having her there.

And the other actors were a lot of fun: whether it was the kids from Hollywood, who were all there to inject a little bit of by-the-book professionalism, or it was the kids from Florida, who were there to work their buts off and do something completely new. It helped everybody out. Everybody had a foothold, one way or another.

CE: Right. Is there a favorite scene you have in the movie, or something you were glad you got to do, as an actor?

NS: I gotta look at it as the big picture. There were some really fun days, yeah. There were moments that I remember, viscerally. The peanut butter sandwich scene with Brandon Meyer [Daneck] was a pleasure, because I love working with that guy. We got to become good buddies and great comrades. That was nice. That scene in the canoe [with Meyer] was really groovy. It wasn't a big process trailer, giant film shoot. It was just a couple kids out in a canoe somewhere, and somebody was just shooting it. And we talk about authenticity, and that was, like, authentic. You know?

CE: Yeah.

NS: Two boys going out for a boat ride!

Our Refreshing Conversations Are Coming Back

Dear reader, internet wanderer, and fellow conversationalist,

Hello. How are you?

You may find it peculiar that there have not been any new posts in over a year. We feel the same way. However, fear not, as conversations, etc. will be re-entering the blogosphere, your status updates, tweets, person-to-person conversations, and hearts. This is happening within the next few weeks.

As a close friend, professor, and co-conversationalist told me when I freaked out over the cold weather and and overwhelming layers of clothing & silences during my first New England winter: "It's not death, it's just dormancy." We were just going through a hiatus of producing conversations and other web site ephemera for you. The hiatus is just about wrapped up, and we could not be happier about that.

We will be coming back strong, with a string of lively interviewers for you. We will also be exploring other conversation-based avenues that will go beyond the standard "intro, transcript, hypertexted links" we and other sites provide. This includes perpetually adding to the "Left Unsaid" cornucopia of personal stories about those things we don't get to say, fully articualte, or only have words for after the fact.

So, thank you for stopping by the site, whether you were with us at the beginning, or you've visited in the last year and thought, "WTF?! Such cool interviews, and they've left me high and dry for months?"

We will be back with regularly posted conversations and other refreshing content quite soon.


In the meantime, enjoy the video and music "conversation" below.


Thanks for your interest, patience, and pinky swear to come back soon.

Shahin I. Beigi
conversations, etc.
* founder & fellow
conversationalist

Kronos Quartet & Tanya Tagaq working on a collaboration.

Carsie Blanton: Wonder in Song

Carsie Blanton: about to delight your ears.
Photo by Chris Kendig.

I can't stop listening. To Carsie Blanton's album, Ain’t So Green, that is. I picked it up some months ago, after seeing her perform at Club Passim. What kind of album is it, and what does it sound like?

The album is:

* Hypnotic in sound (try not playing it often).

* Shaped by the undulations of Carsie's voice, mood, and melody.

* A voice offering careful contemplations and ambiguous convictions.

* Both a keenly-worded critique of the comforts of love, and a tribute to its wondrous delights.

* 13 songs full, including a hidden track that will make you weak at the knees and strong in your heart. This last track is akin to a kiss on your lover's eyelids, or their kiss upon yours (mix tape makers, share!).

It sounds like:

* A stroll through jazz vocalist stylings, folk articulations, and pop witticisms.

* A lover admitting the range of their outward loyalties and hidden reservations.

* The double-edged and layered days of lovesick, love-full, & love-almost.

* Early-fall epiphanies that you get during quiet, leaf-kicking walks.

* The simple pleasure of lounging in the lush, wet grass of spring.

This explanation is purposefully filled with imagery, openness... and thought bullets. Though I have lived with the album, and rejoice in the twists and tug-of-wars of each song, I find it hard to codify. Nor would I like to play the game of "what do you get when you mix Singer X with Band Y, and leave them on a desert island" with her tunes. I've played the album for refined art collectors and jaw-dropping tourists at my gallery job. I've introduced it to friends who have since become hooked on her memorable way with melodies. When it's in my headphones —wherever I may be — I end up whistling and humming along.

After the Club Passim show, Carsie and I shared thoughts on her songs, poets we've learned from, and and our daily rituals. She just may become your new favorite, by the interview's end. If so, get yourself to a rollicking show of hers. In case you need more, pick up Ain't So Green and let it transfix and delight you.

Hellos

CE: So, outside of Club Passim. I'm having a conversation with Carsie Blanton. And you are living where?
CB: Philadelphia.
CE: And you are how old?
CB: 22.
CE: And you moved from Oregon?
CB: Mmhmm.
CE: Did you go to school out there?
CB: No, I grew up in Virginia. I was actually homeschooled. I moved to Eugene when I was 16, and I moved to Philadelphia last year.
CE: What were you doing in Eugene?
CB: Mostly, worked some jobs, played in a couple bands — did some slam poetry, actually.
CE: How did you get into that?
CB: I had been writing for a long time, already, and I liked the idea of a format where I could write poetry and then perform it.
CE: You liked the idea of being in this performative space?
CB: Right. I had a couple songs, but I wasn't writing regularly. I liked the idea of being able to perform anything I wrote, as long as it was conducive to a live crowd like that.
CE: Did you do this weekly?
CB: It was more, like, monthly. There were these competitive poetry slams. There were actually a lot of slam poets in Eugene, Oregon, of all places. So, they get together a couple hundred people on a Friday night. There would be, like, 15 people competing. Then, you get judged, first three rounds, and all that. I bet you're familiar with the slam format.
CE: Yeah. You'd compete sometimes, as well?
CB: I did. I never got very far as a slam poet, I have to admit. Ha ha ha. But I enjoyed it.
CE: Are there any nationally known slam poets that speak to you?
CB: At the time, I was really into Saul Williams. There's a poet, Alix Olson, who did a national tour. She came to Eugene. That was probably when I got excited about it. She is one of these queer, feminist, kind of angry, young poets. She's very good.
CE: Yeah, she's really emotive. She's sharp, but then you kind of cry.
CB: Yup, she's great.
CE: So, I had made a famous tape that went all over Massachusetts colleges, from her performance at Clark. I'd heard about this tape from people at other schools in this area — it was around 2000, 2001. They'd say, "Oh, there's this Clark tape." I would reply, "Oh, I made that." I had no idea that it had this history.
CB: That's great.

Paradoxes & "What Most Moves Me"

CE: So, you found a space to write songs more. How did the songwriting develop?
CB: By the time I moved to Eugene, I had already written a couple and thought of it as kind of the ideal art form. I was already performing a lot of covers and writing poetry. It seemed like an elegant thing, to bring them together. And I'd always been inspired by a lot of songwriters.

So, I went out there and was singing back-ups in a band. I was playing with Nicole Martin, a friend of mine. We had a duo, with two guitars, harmonies, and stuff, called The Short Skirts. We started playing together regularly. That was when I started writing regularly, getting more into the creative side of it.

CE: You were in another band that you were singing back-up for?
CB: Yeah, it was a funk band, called the Champagne Syndicate. I went on tour with them, out west.
CE: Okay. Covers. What were you covering then, and why?
CB: Mostly, Patty Griffin. We did a lot of Patty Griffin songs. We did a couple of Nina Simone songs and some older, jazzy stuff. I know we did "Stormy Monday." One or two Ani DiFranco songs; we were both big Ani devotees at that point.
CE: Which Nina Simone songs?
CB: We did "Sugar in My Bowl."
CE: Wow, wow.
CB: That's what we were doing, Nicole and I. I would find some more obscure stuff, occasionally. There are a lot of songwriters in my family, and I know a lot of people that are songwriters, so I did a few covers of songs that weren't, you know, popular. I had picked them up from one place or another. I covered some Leonard Cohen, some Joni Mitchell, and some older folk, as well.
CE: Which Leonard Cohen did you choose?
CB: Well I did "Famous Blue Raincoat" and "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye."
CE: Wow, wow. He was one of the most influential artists to me, in high school.
CB: Uh huh. I can't blame you.
CE: From 14 to 21, I carried his book, Stranger Music, almost always with me.

When you sing these songs, they're obviously emotionally charged. There's a range of emotions going on in your music, as well.

CB: Yeah.
CE: Are there times when it really hits you, in the middle of singing? Or, what brought you to sing "Famous Blue Raincoat?" If anything is too personal, just let me know.
CB: No, not at all. It's hard to say. I've always listened to and sung what most moves me, and it's hard to say why it moves me. I'm definitely attracted to poetry and more complex uses of the language. I enjoy Leonard Cohen more than Donovan, or somebody who was a little more popular, but a lot more pop-driven. I'm always more attracted to the really emotional and lyrical stuff.
CE: Sure.
CB: I appreciate good insight, and insightful and original use of the language.
CE: Which I hear in your music. Like the song, "Willing to Fall." That has the whole discussion in there. It's very layered. The phrases are very charged. It sounds like you’re convincing a story to someone, but it turns out, there wasn't enough convincing. You're releasing your conviction, by the time of the chorus.
CB: Yeah. That's definitely a theme in my music. Somebody actually gave me a quote one time that was something like: what makes my songs interesting is that I've mastered the ambiguous. Ha. I thought that was a good way to say it. What makes a song interesting, to me, is that it says more than one thing — its complexity. In a lot of my songs, I'm actually saying two things that seem to be contradictory, and then, trying to marry them by the end.
CE: Sure.
CB: "Willing to Fall," it starts out: "I love you so much that/ I feel like I've already lost you." That was this idea that when you're closest to someone is when you are most afraid of being apart from them. And just the inherent contradictions of being in love, which is full of them, of course. That's a good example of trying to bring to light this paradox that we all live in, you know?

CE: Mmhmm. Hmmm. I'd imagine you memorize poems?
CB: Mmhmm. Ha.
CE: Let's talk about a poem or poet we could get on a level with.
CB: Sure. Actually, it's funny, because I was writing my set list and I was going to say something about this poet, Jane Hirschfield. Do you know her?
CE: No.
CB: I wrote a song recently that was directly inspired by a poem, which I don't often do. I mean, I'm often inspired by poetry, in general, but this was kind of like taking the concept of the poem and rewriting the story.
CE: Are the same characters in the song that appear in the poem?
CB: They're not. It's more like, there's a punch line to this poem. I took the punch line, and then rebuilt the rest.
CE: Oh, that's great.
CB: So the poem is called "Da Capo," and it goes... [We are stalled by car noise & voices of people walking by.] Should I wait until the car passes?
CE: Yeah.
CB: Heh, heh. Um. [Pause, pause, pause.] So it is:

Da Capo

Take the used-up heart like a pebble
and throw it far out.

Soon there is nothing left.
Soon the last ripple exhausts itself
in the weeds.

Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery.
Glaze them in oil before adding
the lentils, water, and herbs.

Then the roasted chestnuts, a little pepper, the salt.
Finish with goat cheese and parsley. Eat.
You may do this, I tell you, it is permitted.
Begin again the story of your life.

-Jane Hirschfield

CE: Wow.
CB: I love that poem. I love that there are really only two lines in it that are meaningful, at all. The rest is just some imagery that you could relate to. At the beginning, she says, "Take the used up heart... /and throw it far out." At the end, she says, "… it is permitted./ Begin again the story of your life." So, it's this beautiful poem about starting over, but she only uses ten words to say it.
CE: Sure. Everything is around the ritual of food, per se.
CB: Right. Cooking and eating as the daily rote of living. So, I took that and wrote a song called "Buoy." The punch line of the song (as I think of it) — the last verse — is: "What fool keeps holding onto something after it is fell apart?/ Hey you, send it to the warehouse/ Get yourself another heart." It's that same idea: there are an infinite number of beginnings; it's not just the one chance.
CE: And the work, the real work, is to get yourself to start over. Just as, the real work, ironically, is to feed yourself.
CB: That's what I love about that poem. She's gently and subtly using this metaphor of eating, because it's just another thing you have to do. Throwing away your heart and getting a new one, as well as cooking your soup. It's just daily life, you know?

"Buoy," or rewriting a poem by way of a song. It is permitted.

Bound for a Song

CE: Who do you go see for shows, when you're not playing with them?
CB: That's a great question, because it's fewer and fewer people, the more shows I play. I'm crazy about a local band in Philadelphia right now, called The Lowlands. They're a bluegrass band. Their singer-songwriter, Chris Kasper, is a brilliant, brilliant lyricist. Brilliant melodies. Great voices. Besides that, I always see Patty Griffin, whenever she's nearby.
CE: I have her set list, on the side of my book shelf, from when she played with Emmylou [Harris] and Gillain [Welch].
CB: Wow, I went to one of those shows.
CE: It was so good. Do you guys take the Mass Pike west, to go down to Philly?
CB: What's the number of the Mass Pike?
CE: 90.
CB: We take 90. 90 to 95, I guess.
CE: If you pass Worcester, that's where "Making Pies" is about.
CB: Really? Worcester? Huh.
CE: Yeah, it's about Table Talk Pies, in Worcester. She's imagining herself as a worker there. I went to school in Worcester and lived there for several years. It's interesting to hear the song. When she was on a Maine radio station, I heard her talk about it. It's this factory that I've known about, driven by. These pies, they're like 7-11 pies.
CB: Little peach pies or cherry pies?
CE: Yeah.

CB: The other artist I'm really into is Devon Sproule. We toured a little bit together. She's a total genius, I think. She's one of the few contemporaries out there that is not known well, that every time I see her, she completely blows my mind. I have to go lay down for a while. She's that good.
CE: What does she do, live, that hits you?
CB: It's mainly her songwriting. She's a meticulous lyricist, as well as being a total jazzhead, and kind of obsessed with jazz guitar and chord progressions. So, she's juxtaposing these beautiful, very, very poetic lyrics about — mostly about Virginia (where she lives), domestic life, and these simple concepts — over these complex and catchy jazz chords and melodies. She's kind of writing Cole Porter standards, only, about modern life.

It's great. She's playful and cute and sweet when she's on stage. She reaches for notes that she might not hit and says really goofy stuff. She completely draws the audience into this childlike world that she lives in.
CE: That's amazing.

CE: You see this [singing professionally] as an indefinite thing, I would imagine.
CB: Yeah, yeah. When I moved to Philly, from Eugene, I went at it like: I don't have any idea about how to go about starting a music career. I'm going to go to Philly and, basically, see what falls into my lap. So far, it's been great things. Lots of great shows and great people helped me out. So, I'm still kind of sitting with my lap open, hoping that things keep falling there, you know?

CE: What are you listening to, in the car?
CB: The Quebe Sisters. They're this band, from Texas of three singing sisters with a country-swing sound. They're such a joy to listen to. It's unabashedly bubbly music.
CE: Nice. What are you reading these days?
CB: Right now, I'm reading non-fiction. I'm reading a book by Temple Grandin. She's an autistic woman who designs humane slaughter houses. She has a thesis about how autistic people think visually, and that's why they're hard for non-autistic people to relate to. Most people think linguistically, while animals think visually. She describes her life with animals and the way she relates to them. It's really interesting.
CE: Did she get famous? Was this a New York Times Best Seller, from a while back?
CB: I think she was on NPR, and probably on New York Times book lists.

CE: Have you ever written a song around non-fiction? Not from your own story, but from a major event, or a political concern.
CB: Not really. I base most of my songs from stories of people's lives. They're not always from mine; they're always just stories — personal stories — rather than stories that I'm not directly related to, in some way.
CE: Sure, sure. So, they're stories you bear witness to?
CB: Exactly. I've dabbled at trying to write more politically, but I have a hard time thinking of anything interesting to say about things that I'm not intimately familiar with.

CE: What drew me to your music is the world it creates, and the possibilities it offers for things like longing. I'd say, there's some relationship to environments, too (for example, "Flight to Philadelphia"). It seems to come from the way you may relate to things — your worldview. I'm interested in what you hold onto: either convictions (like, "This is how I wish things were in human relationships”), or tactile things and experiences.

CB: That's a good question. I find, the more I live a creative life — the more attention I put on writing as my profession — the less abstractly I tend to live my life. So, I'm into tactile pleasures, like dancing and food, stuff like that. In my day-to-day life, I spend a lot less time thinking abstract thoughts, unless they're bound for a song. I spend a lot more time doing things like shopping for tea cups. I'm really into tea cups. I have a dog that I love. I do a ton of dancing. I dance three or four nights a week, right now.
CE: Classes, or?
CB: I actually teach in Philly. I do social dancing, as well. Swing and blues, which are both social dances, rather than choreographed.
CE: You teach choreographed?
CB: No, I teach social dancing. I went to a dance here last night, and there's another one tonight, a little outside of Boston.

Wonderment & Delight

CE: Something that hit me about your music was the way that sound — you offer these aural pleasures, so to speak, with your guitar, with your voice. There is something about certain sounds that you're making. Either, how do you get to these sounds, or what is the sound that you want to make? That you hear in the natural world, or that you've heard in your head, that you haven't hit yet.

CB: I would say that the musical aspect of what I do is the most intuitive and least premeditated. I tend to mull over concepts and lyrics a lot, and not as much about the structure of songs. I'll spend a lot of time coming up with chord progressions that I like, but not a lot of time on melodies. I feel they need to come from not a logical place, but from an intuitive place.
CE: Sure, sure.
CB: As far as the sound that I want to make, I'm thinking a lot about that right now. I'm trying to think about what my next album should be like. The closest thing that I could say is that I'm going for a feeling, more than a sound. The feeling is kind of like: being privy to a 4-piece jazz ensemble in the '30s, with Billie Holliday or some incredible vocalist in the front, that feels really intimate and really creative — relentlessly creative. Something unexpected is happening at every moment.
CE: Sure. Do you listen to Rickie Lee Jones?
CB: I do.
CE: I hear that in her.
CB: Definitely.
CE: Although her music is a bit poppy, when you see her live, you see how raw and rawly orchestrated it is.
CB: Mmhmm. Rather than a sound, I want to be able to create a world, like you were saying. Create a world where the audience is completely transfixed and just delighted. Delight is the main emotion I'm going for. I want there to be this sense of wonderment and delight in every moment. That's what I try to do with my lyrics and my melodies, and that's what I hope to do when I involve more instrumentation.

CE: Beautiful, beautiful. Maybe a few last questions. We were talking about feelings and albums. Let's talk about albums that, for you, capture a feeling, space, era, or mood. Albums that conjure up these whole, autonomous worlds — these possible worlds.
CB: Well, one of my favorites for that is — actually it's my favorite album — Patty Griffin's first record, Living with Ghosts. The amazing thing about it, to me, is that she's completely created an alternate universe, with just her vocals and guitar. There's nothing else happening on the whole record. There are only ten songs, but you completely go there with her. From the first note, she brings you there and you stay there. It's this incredible depth and complexity of emotion. It's just relentless, from the beginning to the end. It's so fresh. Every song is fresh. Every idea is fresh. Every word is fresh. So, that's the epitome of that, for me. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Radiohead's Ok Computer is one of my favorites.
CE: Sure.
CB: That kind of creates a world by creating a lush atmosphere. With Thom Yorke's voice, he just — the same thing — he pulls out that deep emotion.
CE: Any songs that resonate with you, on that album?
CB: I really like "Let Down."
CE: What's the chorus on that one?
CB: "Let down and hangin' around/Crushed like a bug on the ground"
CE: Yeah.
CB: I love that one. And then, "Breathe," or whatever. It has some weird name. The chorus is: "Breathe, keep breathing." That was the one that was on the soundtrack for… oh, that's right. It's called "Exit Music for a Film" because they put it in Romeo and Juliet. So, those two. I haven't listened to that in a while, but I spent many, many hours listening to it.
CE: When you put it on, it hits you. You're like, "Oh, wow," from the beginning.
CB: Maybe I don't listen to it because it's so nostalgic for me. It's the soundtrack to a good three years of my life.

CE: Any books of poems that have hit you in the same way? Adrienne Rich always does that to me. Her books are like complex concept albums. I'd recommend getting The Dream of a Common Language and reading "Twenty-One Love Poems."
CB: For me, the staples are Collected Poems of e.e. cummings. I've read probably every poem in that book.
CE: Any numbers that hit you, or, by the first lines?
CB: Gosh. What recently? I'm trying to remember.
CB: Have you ever played one with guitar?
CB: No. I don't go in for that, because they're not built with a melodic structure, necessarily; I wouldn't presume to be able to write one. I just memorized "my youthful lady will have other lovers." Do you know that one?
CE: I don't know that one, closely.
CB: See if you remember it:

my youthful lady will have other lovers

my youthful lady will have other lovers
yet none with hearts more motionless than i
when to my lust she pleasantly uncovers
the thrilling hunger of her possible body.

Noone can be whose arms more hugely cry
whose lips more singularly starve to press her-
noone shall ever do unto my lady
what my blood does,when i hold and kiss her

(or if sometime she nakedly invite
me all her nakedness deeply to win
her flesh is like all the 'cellos of night
against the morning's single violin)

[Not in poem:
CB: Shoot, I'm missing part of it: "like a bright…trees," um, oh...
CE: I got it at home.
CB: So, the last line is: "My youthful lust will have no further ladies."
CE: Wow, wow. ]

[* remainder of poem:]

more far a thing than ships or flowers tell us,
her kiss furiously me understands
like a bright forest of fleet and huge trees
-then what if she shall have a hundred fellows?

she will remember,as i think,my hands

(it were not well to be in this thing jealous.)
My youthful lust will have no further ladies.

- e. e. cummings

CB: I'm just a sucker for that kind of turn of phrase, you know?
CE: Yeah.
CB: It starts out with one complete concept: my youthful love will have other lovers. And you're going along, oh yes, she's young, and she'll go have other lovers. He loves her, but it's passing. Then, the end is: "my youthful lust will have no further ladies." Again, it's that paradox of love, where you feel, at once, all the possibility and all the doom of the situation. Ha.
CE: There's a delicacy to his intensity, definitely. Like in the one that ends: "nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands." It's delicate, but strong.
CB: And so clever, and so smart. In one of his introductions in that book, he says, the trick of his poetry can be summed up by one burlesque joke, and that is: "'Would you hit a woman with a child?—No, I'd hit her with a brick.'" Which is so true. You read his poems, and so much of it, like "my youthful lady," is puns. They're these very intricate puns. He just strings you all along, to the end.
CE: Like "o by the by."

CB: Exactly. There's Wisława Szymborska, who's Polish. She has a book called View with a Grain of Sand.
CE: She keeps coming up out with new stuff. I keep reading her.
CB: That is the only one of hers that I've gotten into, but I've enjoyed it. And then, Mary Oliver is my perennial favorite.
CE: I was going to ask how you felt about her. Some people are really into her, some people aren't.
CB: No, I love her.
CE: I hear a connection between your songs and her poems: this whole thing about reminding yourself of the world around you, and, at the end, of the world inside.
CB: There's the theme of changing perspective repeatedly, through a piece. She starts out looking at a blade of grass, talking about the blade of grass. Then, by the end she's kind of talking about life and existence and God. And you completely buy it. It's such an easy transition for her to make. I respect that, and I like that kind of writing.
CE: Do you know "Five A.M. in the Pinewoods?"
CB: How does it go?
CE: The end is, um: "I was thinking:/ so this is how you swim inward,/ so this is how you flow outward,/ so this is how you pray."
CB: Yup, yup, it's a great one.

CE: It's funny. I was 19 years old. I mean, I'm 26 now, I'm not much older. I was a sophomore in college. I was coming back home. I said, "Let me show you what I'm reading in college!" I read this honey poem ["Honey at the Table"] from American Primitive.
CB: Mmhmm.
CE: I mean, my father's a content and active theater professor, but most of my family are successful, math and science people. I read my mother this poem about Mary Oliver [/the persona/ "you," the reader] eating honey at her table, and wanting to be — becoming, really — this creature, this bear, going up a tree, to the source of the honey.
And she says, jokingly, "So, you're getting these scholarships, and we're paying more money, so you could read poems about honey?"

CB: Ha, ha.
CE: We laughed at the ridiculousness of it—
CB: Yeah.
CE: But the necessity — it's almost like, if that's how you see the world, or if there are certain things that you want to connect with, then, it's necessary. That is your language. That, to me, is political. This whole site is part of a bigger picture where I like to share culture with people; as opposed to leaving it "up there," bringing it down here, and making it intimate. That calls for the real work, of having to look at it closely, and having to earnestly appreciate it. Then, you're not separate from it, you know?
CB: Mmhmm. Right.

CE: Um, what are you looking forward to, in the spring?
CB: This spring? The first thing that comes to mind is warmth, because it's pretty cold. I don't have any plans, honestly. So, I guess I'm looking forward to the possibility of travel and making a record.
CE: Nice. Pretty, pretty. Thank you.
CB: Thank you.

Ain't So Green: play, bask, dance, and repeat.

Still Green: Teen Film Makes Waves

Teen films have a way of taking you back. Whether the film is a spot-on representation of your high school years, or it makes you think, "that is not it, at all," they often make your reckon, reminisce and reconsider that time. Those years of being with, coming up, living under, going through, and growing up. The good news is, many of us have crossed that tumultuous threshold. That's also the bad news. When since have friends been as available? How much time a week, a month, do you have to figure yourself out? How heartfelt was each turn on your adolescent learning curve? Among other things, the treacherous certainties of adulthood make this writer sometimes yearn for the tenuous openness of youth.

Still Green is a teen film that wades through the the quintessential end of that threshold: the summer after high school. The story line: 1) friends, enemies and lovers wile away their time in a beach house; 2) a member of the party dies; 3) the surviving ones are left to come together, cope, and try to live on. However, what unravels is a complex mosaic of: little conversations and big events, echoing moods and sudden changes, individual resolve and collective uncertainty. The characters flow through sun-drenched scenes of coastal Florida. They share thoughts both shallow and deep. They are filled with longing, yet, anchored by the lingering they still have to undergo. Their disposition is akin to holding your ear to a conch shell, hoping for the right melody, all the while being pitched on the undertow of the current moment. The viewer is a trusted confidante, as the ensemble ride the currents of their fears, friendships, and transformations.

Doug Lloyd, producer, and I met at the start of college. We had just finished "that summer," and were on to our alleged adult lives.We have kept in touch, and have seen each other ride the waves of our twenties. Georgia Menides, writer and producer, and I crossed paths around the time she and Doug were starting their film company, Uncovered Productions. I had met up with them during Still Green's first run of festivals-- a successful streak that included awards for Best Narrative Feature (New England Film and Video Festival) and Best Ensemble (Spirit of Independence category; Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival). They were joined by Dave Weston, post-production assistant, at a BU screenwriting class screening. I had seen the film a few times before (as a potential music consultant), but not this cut, nor on the big screen. I put the sea conch to my memories, and heard it resonate with the film. Afterwards, we talked about mermaids and flirtations, the actors and their convincing spark, films and memorable popcorn moments.


Yeses Along the Way

DL: We don't need it to be edited. You can definitely do whatever you want. I trust you.
CE: So, so, Still Green. After the BU grad school screenwriting class screening. I'm talking with Doug Lloyd, producer. You did quite a lot on this film. Now, we're just walking over to some coffee. We were talking about audience reactions to the movie. What is it like to have gone through several investor screenings, test screenings, and now, showing it at festivals?

DL: Well, first of all, this is my favorite cut. That was cool, to show my favorite cut. In the past, everyone that we screened it to--at all the test screenings--- had some connection to us. It's hard to be completely unbiased when having some sort of connection. At the festival, there were a lot of people there who had no idea who were, just personally. It was cool to get a stranger's opinion of it, to see strangers loving this project.
CE: Right, right. You just did the 32nd Annual New England Film and Video festival. You guys got the award for Best Narrative Feature. How did that feel, this being the first official film festival that it's gone to?
DL: Well, it felt great. That in itself was reassuring. Not only did we know that people really liked it, but they said so in an award form. It also takes some of the pressure off. Now, we can go to other festivals and we don't have to worry, "Oh my god, is something going to happen? Is something going to happen?" Because, at the very first festival, we get best feature.
CE: You've already secured this interest in the festival market. It's a big yes being thrown your way.
DL: Exactly, yeah!
CE: Which must be great. It seems like there's stress, on and off, while making a movie, but there are also all these yeses along the way. Like working with the cinematographer, Brian Crane.
DL: A lot of things just came our way. We really lucked out, but it's not complete luck because we tried to get ourselves in a position where it would happen. Getting Sarah Jones as the lead actress. She was incredible. This movie would not be the same without her as a lead.
CE: She's still on Big Love?
DL: She is still on Big Love. Getting her, getting all of our other main actors and actresses, and getting Brian Crane. Brian really knows what he's doing. Even though its' a low-budget, independent movie, it does not look like it.
CE: It looks gorgeous.


Maybe There Are Mermaids, Dude

[We reach our destination. I separate from Doug, as he and Dave get the coffees. Georgia and I look for a place in this multi-floor bookstore for the four of us to continue the conversation.]

CE: I'll just start recording.
GM: Right, right, because you never know, something funny can happen on the escalator, on the way up here, and you get it.
CE: Let's start talking about the movie.
GM: If you said, "Well, I don't understand why she does a, b, c." That kind of stuff, I like. My favorite thing, honestly, is when people start discussing why Kerri [Sarah Jones] makes the choices she does toward the end of the film. Some people get so upset, and I love that. They are like, "I love that girl, and she let me down." And this other guy was like, "What, a beautiful girl let you down? That happens all the time." I love that people have different opinions about it.
CE: The characters, even though they might be a little stylized, like in any movie, they're really believable. You're going to pick up on the character and think, "I would do this. I wouldn't do that." You're having a critical conversation about the characters. That just shows that, from the minor to the major ones, you have this high appreciation for them.

GM: If you're upset that she did that, then you care.

CE: I was wondering: are there any characters, considering the different script drafts and the way they've turned out on film, that you have strong feelings about? Maybe feelings regarding how they turned out, or from seeing the characters face to face. On the set, you were basically walking around with characters you wrote.
GM: Yeah, pretty much. Well, for Kerri… Sarah Jones looks nothing like how I pictured Kerri. I pictured a brunette, athletic, kind of girl.
CE: Hmm. Maybe even dark.
GM: Dark, yeah! Dark hair, dark skin, super cut. When I first saw her, it took a little adjusting, because she's this curvy, voluptuous blond. But then, I totally got into it: wait a minute, she's curvy and voluptuous. I pictured someone a little more spazzy, but she's way chill. You know, she's like [in a breathy tone], "Maybe there are mermaids, dude." So, I started to love how she basically took the lines that I wrote, and instead of everything I thought would be in them, made them completely different. And it worked perfectly.
CE: I think, for the audience, the idea of this late-teen blond girl having all these feelings and revelations could be a little unsettling; at the same time, you get on a level with her from the beginning.
GM: Yeah.

GM: Wait, I bet this is Doug. [She checks her cell. Then, to Doug, on cell:] So, were on the second floor.
CE: Yeah, we're on the second floor. In the art and architecture section.
GM: Second floor, by the new arrivals, in the art and architecture section. We're back here. Sweet!

CE: I think she really plays it well, in a balanced way. Not balanced in this predictable 50/50 way: not 50 percent this, 50 percent that. Her character is developed, and you see this range. There's the heavy stuff, the different topics—like the mermaid trope—which take on heavier meanings. Then, you also see her talking about boys, the whole penis-anaconda bit. She's even falling off the skateboard, in the very beginning.
GM: Yeah.
CE: You just follow her.
GM: She's got such a range.
CE: Yeah, I definitely feel you could be in the room with her, so to speak.



























Sarah Jones (Kerri) has such a range, you can't help but
follow her character, as she unravels from scene to scene.

Like My Friend, So and So

GM: [To Doug and Dave, who have just arrived with coffee] Thank you. Oh, you didn't bring the sugar?
DL: Oh, I just heard the cream part. Let me get the sugar packets right now.
GM: Talk amongst yourselves—and I'll be right back--because we've been talking amongst ourselves.
DL: Heh, heh, heh.

CE: We were just talking about a couple things. The conversation led to Kerri. We were saying that all these people are having dynamic reactions to the characters. So many times, you either see dramatically heavy, sincere, overly-stylized and emotionally arresting American Beauty types of youth in teen films, or you see archetypal, predictable characters. And in Still Green, they are sincere and yet somewhat stylized. That said, I think it's done in a way that makes you care about them. You get the range of emotions from each character.It's an accolade of the film that the characters are believable, and that you want to kind of have a relationship with them. You do have a relationship with them-- you have a reactionary relationship, if not a compassionate one. Even the most critical person may say, "I can't believe this is happening." That means you're getting involved with the character enough, you're relating enough.
DL: You're connecting.
CE: For example, Sean [Noah Segan] has quite a character ark: he's able to be that artsy quiet kid, but also want to punch the heck out of someone.
DL: That's the thing. The worst thing that could happen is for someone to say, "Oh, I didn't care." If they're having strong emotions-- in whatever direction-- about what these characters are doing, then they're connected with them. And that's one of the things that I'm really proud about with this movie. It's definitely great for Georgia's writing. It shows that Georgia wrote it very well, the acting was great, and Jon's directing was great, too. With those three elements combined, they turned into very believable characters. You watch them, and you like them, because everyone finds someone that they connect with. It's like, "Oh, this is just like my friend, so and so."


Everyone Is on the Cusp

[Georgia is back with her finely tuned coffee. The conversation continues.]
CE: The film have has this complex mosaic of emotions and events going on.
GM: And it's all there. If you're the kind of person that pays attention, it is all there. But sure, you do kind of have to work for it. It might be in a glance or one line.
CE: Yeah.
DW: It's all right there, in that scene after the death. You see the sequence of every single person by themselves. It's really intense.
CE: Yeah.
GM: Yeah.
DL: Yeah.
DW: Everyone goes on their own, after you think they might want to be together.
DL: They're all dealing with it on their own. They're dealing with their different issues; not necessarily about the death, but how it relates to them.
CE: The voice-overs keep bringing up this week, how it's going to be different, and that after this week, everything will be different. This cusp quality is huge, throughout the film. It's there, with and without the death. And all the cusps they're on, with each other. Alan [Ryan Kelley], he's on the cusp of rationalizing and pushing out his feelings for the girl he likes. This person is on the cusp about that thing, and that person is on the cusp of another thing. Everyone is on the cusp.
GM: You're right, I hadn't thought about that. Sean is on the cusp of drawing. Daneck [Brandon Meyer] is on the cusp of should he or should he not sleep with Monica [Ashleigh Snyder], what if she gets pregnant again? Alan's on the cusp. Yeah, everyone is on the cusp.
CE: A cusp also means that they've gone somewhere, gone through something. It may not be believable to everyone. A criticism may be: Oh, kids don't really do that much drugs and drinking. Kids can't be that involved with their emotions. Or, they can't be both. But, everybody is.
DL: It's funny, because everyone really is.
DW: You worried so much about everything in high school. You didn't know how to deal with anything, so your emotions were all over the place.
DL: Exactly. The biggest thing in your life was emotion. Because you didn't know what was going to happen. All you knew was what you were feeling at that moment. And a lot of kids do drugs, and feel all that at the same time. I think it's what's so believable about the film. It's not the good kid versus the bad kid: the good kid dealing with their emotions and the bad kid doing drugs. No, everybody does everything. Everyone is mixtures, in all these different shades.
GM: We made those decisions. The good kid steals. The good kid definitely needs to be seen with the bong. The good girl definitely has to have sex.

CE: And scene by scene, it gets more mixed. Like, who's talking about The Outsiders? Everybody does, and from their own point of view. Even Bill [Douglas Spain], the biologist kid, who's like, "Why are we watching this movie?" He's the one who hits home with what the movie is about: "They can't go back, you know" [paraphrase]. This is such a great, self-reflective but natural scene. This is what you might do when you're with friends. You rent a movie, you all have a talk about it. This comment is so poignant, though, as it builds on and pushes the said theme along.

And the way the camera is positioned in certain scenes, you're implicated, if not involved. You're in the room. In The Outsiders scene, you're the one at other end of the couch. Maybe you're the one closest to the TV, who has to crane their neck. Or, when they're on the beach, you're sitting on the sand, nearby. Maybe you're part of that group, maybe you're not. Maybe you're an adult, seeing it from afar.

DL: I think that's different for each person. That's what gets the film the different responses. Some people do feel like they're really in the middle of it. They connect really well with it, and understand what the characters did. Other people see themselves as the parent that should be telling the kids what to do; even if they like the movie, they'll disagree with the actions. I can understand why someone, especially an adult, would say, "Maybe I will be that adult, to give them the control that they need to have, because they're just a bunch of kids, renting a beach house."

Sean (Noah Segan) and Alan (Ryan Kelley),
riding their own cusps.

Nothing Happens, but Everything Happens

CE: Let's discuss the films that Still Green is related to. If people have been saying, "I like it because it reminds me of these films." When you're dealing with investors, maybe you're selling it as a cross between a couple films.

GM: We get The Big Chill for teenagers, a lot.
DL: Yeah, there have actually been quite a few different comparisons. It's also a lot like Mean Creek, in some ways.
CE: There being no adult presence.
GM: Yeah, Ryan Kelley.
DL: Yeah, Ryan Kelley's in both movies! Also, the fact of having that one big decision that gets made, that some people agree with and others don't. They're also young kids dealing with death on their own, before they should have to deal with it.
CE: Mean Creek also takes it back to River's Edge, which brings up this issue of—I mean there are adults in River's Edge, but that was a film where critics said, "Where are the adults?"
GM: Yeah. That was the main theme of River's Edge.
CE: Why are the only adults Dennis Hopper (the sketchy druggy guy), or the parent that doesn't understand the Keanu Reeves character?
GM: The only adult that cares is Dennis Hopper's character.
CE: There are more and more films coming out where the adult presence isn't there. It's great how you guys did it, without making it the edgiest film.
GM: We weren't trying to make Kids. We weren't trying to make Bully. We weren't trying to make that kind of film. We did wan it to be edgy. At the same time, Doug and I have talked about how we feel some teen films go too extreme in the other direction. Everyone is suicidal and sadistic and smoking crack at age 13; well, that's as bad as saying everyone is going to the prom and picking dates and voting for best hairdo. We just wanted to present something in the middle.

CE: That's kind of like The Big Chill. Let's explore that film. Let's talk about your responses to the film and your feelings about people seeing parts of The Big Chill in Still Green.
DG: I saw The Big Chill, but it was so many years ago. I do remember that I really liked it. So it is cool, to have people comparing it to another movie that I know I liked. That people can watch this and be like, "Oh, it's just like this other movie that I personally love."

I love Still Green. No Matter what happens with it, I know that we made a movie that I just love. That is already a huge success, right there: I can sit down and watch a movie that I absolutely love, and I created it.

CE: Honestly, it's astounding. It can be a teen movie that people are going to remember in five years and say, "Wow! I'm glad that film was entered into the vocabulary!" Without it being American Beauty, without it trying to be a great American movie.

GM: Well, the thing about The Big Chill I like is that nothing happens, but everything happens. They basically have breakfast and they cook dinner, they go to sleep, they go for drives, and they go jogging. With Still Green, they go swimming, they party in that house, but everything happens inside those relationships, and what they're saying and what they're not saying. And, I mean, that was one of my first favorite movies, ever. And I'm a dialogue whore, so.
CE: So, yeah!
GM: For me, it's just like, every line. And it's constantly throwing you for a loop. It's about an event that, it's like someone died, but he's still there, you know?
CE: Yeah, yeah.
GM: And that event is part of it, but also isn't part of it-- there's so much that happens that has nothing do to with it. To be compared to The Big Chill, for me, it's the ultimate compliment. It's also proof that you can make a movie where people just sit in a house and do boring things, and it's not boring.

CE: To me, it's proof that you can make a movie that is similar in film vocabulary and plot-- that's similar in cell structure-- to another film that's been made and make it original. I think it's unique enough, yet, it's wonderfully analogous. And so relevant is this issue of "nothing happens, but everything happens." [In Still Green] The conversations come from the histories these high school kids have had with each other, and with themselves. It's about them sharing their feelings with their friends, not sharing them, or finally sharing them. After the death occurs, the mood of the audience shifts. Knowing that these kids are going to go through death makes you linger with everything that happens, more. This little conversation is even more important, because it's part of the cornucopia of emotions that they're going through, too.

DW: It would switches gears a lot: from emotional to funny, and then there's that catharsis.
DL: Actually, what I noticed from sitting in the audiences at New England Film & Video Festival, we got so many more laughs than ever before. Every little moment that was kind of funny to me, everyone was laughing. And I love that Still Green actually takes you there. One of the biggest things I love about movies is just the journey of emotions, whatever movie it is. If a movie can make me feel whatever it makes me feel, that's a success to me. And that's what I've always loved about Still Green. I know it so well, so I connect with the emotions very easily, but it's cool to watch it in the theater where people are really paying attention. Seeing all the people connect with it, how it takes them from really happy to really sad, and to all these different places.
DW: The music helps that along, too. I listen to the soundtrack a lot. For me, music is tied to nostalgia, so when you hear the songs, it evokes that emotion. The movie connects me, through the music, to the emotion.
CE: One thing I liked about it, en masse, is that there's no song "of our generation" on there, so it's not going to feel too much of a certain time. It's not like you'd play it and say, "Oh, that was '95, because that was when Green Day blew up."
DW: Yeah, because it would be played on the radio all the time.
CE: Or: "Oh, this is when this big hit song comes in." It's more like, "This is the song from when Kerri's swimming alone in the ocean."
DL: It's about the song and it's about the moment. It's not about anything else. And that's what I like about the actors, too. Even though we have some actors who are doing other stuff, for the most part, they're not hugely recognizable. So, people will watch it and they won't connect with any other roles that they've had. Which I think is so big, because its just about connecting with them.



The Still Green trailer.

Voice-Overs & Lively Oceans

CE: So, let's talk about voice-over. Let's talk about any movies that you might have spoken about with the actors. Maybe you've seen voice-over in this movie and you loved it, or you've seen it in that film and made sure not to do it in that way.
GM: I'll tell you this: Ryan Kelley and I talked about voice-over. He said, in Mean Creek, originally in the script, there were tons of voice-overs. And they all got cut, except for the one at the end. He said it really helped his acting, to have so many written in the script, because you just know so much about the character. Then I asked some of the other actors [of Still Green], and a lot of them said the fact that there were so many voice-overs in the script didn't bother them, because it really helped them get into their roles. But for me, it was actually a writer. Her name is Jodi Piccoult, and she wrote Songs of the Humpbacked Whale.
CE: Yeah, yeah, her books are getting popular.
GM: She's a local [New England] writer, but now she's getting known. The first book she wrote was Songs of the Hump Backed Whale. The title of each chapter has the character's name that narrates it. The story keeps getting told, just switching around between the characters. It made me think, "I want to write a screenplay where there's no main character, and where it keeps switching between everybody's voice." I would say that the book and Jodi Piccoult were big inspirations.

CE: Other film elements stand out, like the camera work. Jeez, the more I see it, the more I think, wow, this is a beautiful film.
DW: Some of the scenes are just unbelievable.
GM: When they're playing in the water and the waves are just, like, whoosh.
CE: They're jumping in the water. That's gorgeous! Yeah, and it makes a difference. The first time I saw it, it didn't hit me. Okay, it's a sunny day and there are a handful of kids swimming at the beach. The more I saw it, I thought the sun is glinting in a way that it traditionally shouldn't. It's kind of falling on them. There's a lot of light and shadow play in the film, but it's not overdone.
GM: I will say one thing about the nature, though. The whole reason that it's shot like that is that ocean is life. It is full of fish and dolphins and birds, and it's just teeming with life. That this ocean would be the vehicle for death, and the irony of that, is something that we wanted to expose, which is why we edited it the way we did. It's not just like, "Oh, gratuitous ocean." That's why we're cutting to these shots of birds and the ocean, and-- the cycle of life. It's not the North Atlantic, which is cold and bitter and of course it's going to take life away. This is an ocean that's known for giving life, so that's one of the reasons that we picked it and really spent some time with it in the film.

Jon Artigo, Andrea Ajemian, Georgia Menides, & Doug
Lloyd at the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival.

Artigo/Ajemian Films, Uncovered Productions, Collaborative Filmmaking, & Some Popcorn

CE: Let's see, you guys have 10 more minutes, 20 more minutes?
GM: We have to be at our first thing at 7:40, but we have to drive.
DL: Well, I have to pick up my suit pants at 6. It's right down the street. It's 5:15 now.
CE: Let's go to 5:25 or less than that. Okay.

CE: Cool, cool. Let's just put things in the context that you guys have made other films. You guys are coming from having done this for a while. The three of you have gone to school for film. Still Green is only the recent manifestation. I want to talk about the projects, ideas, and experiences you've had being creative people, creative business people. So, Doug Lloyd, you went to Clark with me, from the late nineties through the first part of the 21^st century.
DL: Yeah.
CE: And Georgia, you went to NYU, Tisch, for...
GM: For Screenwriting. I graduated in 97.
CE: In 97, so when I was going through some of the Still Green Stuff, you graduated from NYU.
GM: Ha ha. Yeah.
CE: Ha. It's cool, it's cool. I have known you, Doug, since '99, and I've known you, Georgia, from '02, '03, I want to say.
GM: Yeah.
CE: Dave. You graduated BU in '06?
DW: Yeah, I got my master's in '06. I went undergrad a long time before. I graduated undergrad in '96.
CE: You got your master's in screenwriting?
DW: Screenwriting, yup.
CE: And you got involved with this group through Artigo/Ajemian?
DW: Yeah, kind of randomly. They were working on what is still the next project, We Got the Beat. I just found an ad of theirs on Craigslist.
GM: Brandon Meyer found us on Craigslist!
DW: You know, I just graduated. I was thinking about going to LA, but I figured I would take a shot locally, first. Then I hooked up with these guys, kind of got sucked in, and now I'm still here. Ha.
DL & GM: Ha.
CE: So, was that your first time in Worcester?
DW: No, I had been in Worcester before. I had gone to the Centrum, at some point, for a basketball game.

CE: Hmm. So, Uncovered Productions has joint offices with Artigo/Ajemian in Worcester.
DL: Yeah, the offices are shared between the two companies, because we're very much working together on the same projects. Uncovered Productions did Still Green, in association with Artigo/Ajemian Films. And then We Got The Beat is Artigo/Ajemian Films, but Georgia and I are still working on it. We're the production designers.
CE: How about a brief summary about We Got the Beat?
DL: We Got the Beat is an eighties-era teen comedy. It's about this high school football star who doesn't want to play football any more. He quits the team to start the first-ever boy band. The script is really funny. Right now, it's in development. Jon and Andrea are working on raising the money for that.

CE: Let's talk about the idea that, with each movie you make, there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. At the same time, it's about getting to and going beyond the rainbow. Let's discuss Still Green, compared to experiences you've had making other films. Or, if it's building up any dreams you've had.
GM: The whole thing you were talking about, each film being a climb. Still Green is going to do whatever it does, it's made for whatever budget, and this and that. Then, We Got the Beat is the next step: in terms of budget, actors, just level of film. Then We Got the Beat will be the next step to Dave's script, or whatever is next. It is a constant climb, and one of the things you want to do by the end of each film is to enable yourself to make the next one. We want Still Green to do well, because it's our baby and all these incredible people worked on it, etc. But, we want to position ourselves to make We Got the Beat, and to make the next one even better than Still Green.
CE: Each is still a great film that you guys put your heart and soul into and push like nothing else.
DL & GM: Yeah. Exactly.
CE: I've seen this idea of climbing chart itself out since Rutland, USA; though, not all of it. I just found out about the road trip documentary that Andrea made.
GM: Oh, Green House Girls. You should see that. It's wonderful.
CE: Each film is a project from the heart. They're very professional. Each attempts to push itself out there, as both the product of a community, and a marker of your creative growth. While Freedom Park was a great film, with the skills and resources you could have later on, it would be completely different.
DL: Exactly. I like to have goals set way higher than I should ever be able to achieve, and then get to those goals, and then set higher ones. That's really what's been happening with the movies. This is definitely a good industry to do that in: as you achieve more things, you get more people who realize what you can do. They start working with you and you can keep growing together, as a team. So, it's definitely going to keep going and going, and we're going to keep getting bigger and bigger projects. We'll just keep growing our teams of people, as word gets out about what we can do.

GM: And I totally remember saying, "Doug, if you and I are just sitting in a room, like eating popcorn, watching Still Green, and it's a movie, we have succeeded!" And I really meant it. And now, we've been in that moment 300 times. It's just funny. Now, it's like, okay, once our investors make their money back, we'll have succeeded. A year ago, to be even where we are now, would have been like, "We're done."

CE: Definitely. Let's talk about the community environment of Uncovered and Artigo/Ajemian. Even though you guys are in LA now, too, it's still a community. Tell me about the community of filmmakers working together.
DW: It's amazing. That's probably why I've stuck around so long. It's just such a collaborative thing. Everybody treats each other like equals. Everybody listens to each other's ideas. There's not just one guy saying, "Let's do this, or let's do that." Everyone's opinion is valued. I think that's how you make good films, by combining everybody's collaborative passion.
CE: So, it must be nice to see that manifest. What is it like to feel it and be there, on a daily basis? It's something you believe in enough to work for many years with Jon and Andrea.
DL: On a day-to-day basis, it just happens on its own. Every once in a while, you reflect back and are like, "Oh my god, this really is happening." We get to look back and say, "We made Freedom Park." With Rutland, USA, Georgia and I were involved at the end, with promoting it. Just to look back and say, "Remember when we all made Freedom Park together and our goals and our dreams then?" Actually, we've been remembering how we've grown from Freedom Park, thinking back to moments when we were going off to film festivals, getting the audience's responses. I love that we could be at this moment again, with Still Green.
CE: It's almost like going through the same technical aspects: writing, producing, directing, filming, acting, post-production, and releasing a film. But it's an evolution, each time. Of every month, of every week: of the evolution of your filmmaking.
GM: I think what makes it interesting, too, is that we are not getting paid. Within the framework of these six years, if you want to start from the beginning of Freedom Park, we all have had jobs that, obviously are our day jobs, that some of us are passionate about. Jon is teaching. Maybe, I have a job that I care about. Moves, break-ups: Doug and I started this as a boyfriend and girlfriend, living together. Now, we're just business partners, dating other people.

Within the encapsulation of that, so much else has gone on, as well. I think that makes it interesting, as opposed to if we were just doing this full-time and getting paid, and we were in that film bubble. That would be something else. But I think all those dynamics add to it. That there's all these-- you know, Jon can't come out to the festival, because he has a class. The whole thing about everybody's place of where they put their art, and who has the time to do what; and whose voice takes over, often just because of other things people have going on in their lives. That whole mix, I think, is something that's really cool.

CE: Like, Jon's trust that you're showing what another director would call his film.
GM: Yeah. He knows that we're not going to screw it up. Exactly. He said, "I know that, at the end of the day, you're going to fill the house, even if you have to bop people on the head and throw them in the theater!"
DW: It's weird. This occurred to me today when we were in front of the film class. People kept asking about the director. If you were at the office every day, you would see four filmmakers, really. People always think it's the director's film, or the writer's film, but it's the four of your's film. I feel that everybody is equally responsible, it's just different jobs.
GM: It's everybody's film. Switching the order came from Andrea. She randomly had a brainstorm in the middle of the night, and we thought great!
CE: How long did it take for you guys to like it?
DL: When we saw the new cut, we realized we had do it this way. It definitely works better. We were agreed that we wanted to make the changes. I can't wait until when we get distribution, if it gets theatrical. I will be so happy. What we're screening now, that's not even the full way it can look. I've seen how it can look in the theater. Not many eyes have seen the true quality of how Still Green can look. Oh my god! If we can get theatrical distribution, it's going to blow people away.

Unpredictable, Entertaining, Oh Wow

GM: We have negative 3 minutes to talk, now.

CE: Apropos the film, it's as though you're hearing about a group of friends your best friends have, if they're not your friends, already. Like when you go to college and hear about your new friend's high school friends. This is that group. You're seeing that, you're seeing these realistic people.

I'm going to ask one last question, quickly. To keep this personal nature in mind: let's talk about one scene you subjectively really like when you see the movie. One thing you're glad you're seeing. Something with that oh, wow, it speaks to me quality.

GM: Personally, the scene where Alan is teasing Kerri, after she's hooked up with Brandon [Paul Costa], and they're talking about how big his dick was. That thing where you want that person, but you're doing that whole game. And you're getting all into it like that. I feel like that is just like so many people I know, certainly me personally. I'm so glad that scene is in there.
CE: That's funny, but also emotional. Like we were saying earlier, it definitely shows Sara's and Ryan's range as actors.

DL: For me, it's the moment after the death, when they're all dealing with the fact that their friend just died. Even though they're dealing with the issues that they already had, they're now dealing with it in the framework of: "Holy shit! All this trivial stuff that we thought was such a big deal, is now nothing. Our friend is dead." And that's just a final thing. I just love the fact that no matter what's happening in their life, no matter what things they think are really important, they're really not. When it comes down to it, their friend just died. Nothing can change that. I just love the finality of that, and how trivial it makes the rest of their lives-- for that moment, at least-- just to put things in perspective.

DW: I was trying to think of a couple things. I guess one of the things that really hit me was when Daneck and Sean are in the canoe.
GM: Ah.
DW: They're clearly pretty close. Even though it's kind of sappy, Daneck is coming to grips with the fact that he's going to have all these new experiences with new friends, but he's leaving his best friends behind. He's not liking it. It seems to him he's not going to have fun. He's having trouble realizing, you know, you are going to make new friends, but you don't want to leave old friends you've had for a long time.
CE: The cool thing about that scene is you think these are the guys that aren't going to connect, that they're friends by default, because they were in the same class with these other people that they're closer to. But then you think, no wait, they're all connected.

The scene, it's realistic because there's the beats of silence. It's almost like they're approaching the emotions, but they're approaching them in a way that speaks to where they're at. It's not a strong: "I'm going to miss you. I'm going to open up." It's more like Daneck is saying, "I'm going to miss you, I'm going to open up. It's huge, but I don't know how to say it. And I know you're going to finish my sentence, because you're the emotional guy."

And the cool thing is that it's not between two obvious heavies in the movie. It's with between a heavy, and this other guy you come to like.

GM: Yeah.
CE: Which makes it different different than all these other films I love. It's usually very obvious, because it's often between these two best friends who are polar opposites.
GM: Like The Falcon and the Snowman.
CE: Yeah. I love it--it's one of my favorite films-- but that part of it is so obvious, you know?
GM: Yeah.
CE: This is more, you know, it's uh, unpredictable, without being out of place. That's what I like about it.
GM: COOL!
CE: And I think that's essentially the film. It definitely speaks to certain genres, certain things you've seen, certain moods and relationships you've had. But it's not trying to be a dead-on, realistic portrait, and it's not trying to be a cutesy teen movie that's kind of serious. It uses the metaphors of friendship, house, and change in lively ways. Everything is living and transforming. I think the house is breathing and things are happening in it. Yet, it's also an entertaining film.

It's just great to have seen it evolve and hope to see it evolve, some more. So, go to the myspace page, and share it with your friends. And see it at the festivals!

DL: Myspace.com/stillgreenmovie and just stillgreenmovie.com. Definitely check that out. We'll keep updating those.
CE: And um, look forward to the next few films, which are probably going to be nothing like Still Green.
GM: That is for damn sure!

DL: Yeaaah…
DW: Yeah. We'll be at dozens of film festivals.
CE: And Jon Artigo and Andrea Ajemian [of Artigo/Ajemian Films], and Doug Lloyd and Georgia Menides, [of Uncovered Productions] and Dave Weston are names to remember.
GM: Whooo!
CE: Great. take care.




















The cast of Still Green: everything would be different after that summer.

Left Unsaid 1: A train. A book. A walk-away.

This post starts the beginning of a new, "de temps en temps" section on conversations, etc. We'll call it "Left Unsaid." I was once told by a dear professor that, more often than not, we don't say what we mean. He elaborated on how this shapes the way we converse with and relate to each another. It seems that a significant piece of this habitual mode involves leaving things unsaid. While things get left unsaid often, the reasons behind doing so, the possibilities it engages or silences, and the effects it has on relationship x and all of our other ones, range.

With each post in this series, I hope to share look closer-- listen closer, even-- to these moments. The asides in our heads. The grappling with what we said and what we wish we said. The admittance to fascinations, transgressions, transformations. The finally-reached epiphanies. The not-so-epiphanies that help wipe the snow or bird poop off our windshields (or the windshields of others). The thank yous that are too weighty, necessary, or late. Flirtations with a person, place, or idea. The grounding of a conviction with words. This is a humble list that offers some of the countless permutations of this more-than-minute occurrence.

I invite you to send in a "Left Unsaid" moment or two. I do not want to foster negative consequences, though. I am also still hesitant to elicit too much about those whose voices are not conspicuously present on the site. There are wonderful sites for that sort of thing (i.e., Overheard in New York). There is much messiness that may come from that kind of display, though. That said, I open up "Left Unsaid" to you. Send in your stories rather than posting them in comments. As always, reply with comments to posts that speak to you. I ask for your patience with both the time and manner in which this section evolves.

The first offering: A train. A book. A walk-away.

The note above reads:

Hi. You are reading one of my favorite-- and one of the most influential books of my life.

Oh, and I'd love to have coffee w/ you, sometime. like in the next five minutes.

-Shahin {phone number omitted from picture.]

Who was this written to, and why?

While on the subway some days back, I noticed a woman reading Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy, easily one of the most important finds during my coming-of-age. The note was written as a means to share that fact with the reader, while positing the potential for some back and forth. Not in the proverbial date sense, per se. Moreso, I was awestruck by someone reading a book that has a certain place in my timeline. Since age fourteen (twelve years ago), it has lived on a shelf reserved for the most compelling, timely, and re-read books I own. To boot, it's not one many people casually discuss (like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez epic, or a Johnathan Safron Foer memoir) . If anything, I have this idea that me and many of my friend's parents have kept it in print. Seeing a stranger read it made me curious about her relationship with the book. It also sparked an interest in exchanging our thoughts on stories, personal and published.

On that train ride, I was reading Margaret Atwood's The Circle Game, a taut book of poetry. As you can see, I have something of a much-travelled and re-imaged copy. Midway to my destination, I wrote the note, figuring I should chronicle the moment, if not offer her my humble admission. There I was, a dishevelled book before a bearded fellow. And she, in some professional office uniform, replete with meticulously fallen curls. And that book. Appearances aside, there could have been an evening of astute conversation,if not a little close reading of our favorite books and own own stories. Appearances being as they are, I opted out from sharing the full intent of the blue-inked text.

The actual conversation:

* TL will stand in for the stranger's name (TL= train lady).

On the escalators leaving the station, she was right behind me, so I figured I would tell her ...
CE: That's one of my favorite books.

TL: Oh yeah, I just started it.

CE: It changed... it's probably one of the most influential books I've read.

TL: Well, I just started it. I have a bit to go.

CE: How did you pick it up?

[Now we are midway through leaving the station. Having just ridden the first escalator, we have admission/exit gates to traverse and a longer escalator to climb.]

TL: Well, I read Ann Patchett's book about her friendship [with Grealy].

[I think Ann Patchett, curiously perfect curly hair. By appearances and the look of the banter, I'm not convinced rapport could blossom. I become overtly aware and somewhat uncomfortable by my pedestrian relationship with The New Yorker culture in which I assume she's immersed. I, a visitor of that milieu, she a denizen.]

CE: Oh, so you know she's passed, then.

[And then it gets awkward. My habit of pushing the story further along than is needed makes this last line drag. Besides, bringing up death in polite conversation, after a Monday's workday, isn't the most graceful thing to do. Then the fates allow us to go about our own business. Which is to say that we approach the admission/exit gates, and I offer a polite closure, as we conveniently skedaddle apart.]

CE: Well, enjoy your night!

Semi-Closure:
There could have been been more back and forth--five seconds or five hours more-- who knows. Either way, we're linked by this web of readership. I wonder if what she gets from the book is anything close to what I did at 14, 17, 23, or even the next time I revisit those pages. I am curious about the impact the book may have on her. In a time of countless memoirs, Autobiography of a Face may come off as another endearing account by a cancer survivor. However, it can poignantly alter the way you to your self and those around you-- even a stranger. Approach it face to face, and you'll see what I mean!














Autobiography of a Face: book cover and my cover. I used to
have the book cover on my wall, circa 1996.

Margaret Atwood's The Circle Game: front and back.

Update: Computer Problems & Delays (Again)

To all our regular readers and other roamers,

Hello. How are you? I wanted to write you all in order to provide a brief update. My laptop has seen and worked through better days. It became sick early last week, essentially out of nowhere. I was able to quasi-diagnose the problem, and had someone look at it. They supposedly fixed it, but the computer was returned more or less as is (albeit, with a new fan), and with a more professional diagnosis of other problems. I was a little burned by the experience, but one peseveres, adapts, and moves on. I am ardently seeking a workable laptop to be the new conversations, etc. catalyst/computer, in its stead.

Unfortunately, what this has meant is that I am behind in posting. I have had three great interviews since the last post, have arranged several others, and if my plans work out, I will have great adventures this holiday, replete with captivating and quirky conversations for you to enjoy soon.

Also, I hope that you stay with us through 2008, as we will grow exponentially. There will be more posts, characters, conversations, and even more "etc." for you to enjoy. Posts will occur more often, so that you will have something new to read, listen to, view, enjoy regularly. Projects I am brainstorming will manifest, and there will be more to explore on this site. By this time next year, your friends will be telling you about conversations, etc., you will have provided us with countless suggestions for interview subjects, and we will all enjoy talks both long and short, all the more.

Thank you for your patience. Thank you for continuing the conversation, and hope to keep it flowing, on here and off, with each and every one of you. Contact me, as you like.

Shahin I. Beigi,
conversations, etc.
Founder and Fellow
Conversationalist