Y is for Yesterday

| April 13, 2014

1. Upon waking, I did not remember any dreams I had. I walked into the kitchen and made some coffee. The sun was pleasant coming through the window as pigeons tried to woo mates on the fire escape.

2. I had to do laundry. Over the last three years I have lived in four separate places and my laundry source has only gotten farther away. I used to have laundry inside my home, then in my next home the laundry was down the hall of the apartment building, in the next apartment the laundry was down three flights of stairs, and now the laundromat is a block away. I hope that my next move breaks this trend.

3. While doing laundry I read Alexander Mackendrick’s book “On Film-making.” One of the slogans he gives for screenwriters is “Movies SHOW…and then TELL.” He reminds the screenwriter that movies are an inherently visual medium, which is something one can lose sight of when writing a script. The script is full of words, even the images use description through words. It is necessary to remind oneself that the final product will be seen and not read.

4. I went to Inwood Hill Park to watch Little League baseball. The two teams were absorbed in the action taking place on the field. There was an obvious playfulness in the midst of the seriousness that somehow only inhabits 12 year olds when playing sports.

5. I remembered my dream from the night before. I was taking my family on a tour of the city and then it started to rain. Everyone disappeared when the rain came.

6. My wife and I made vegetable curry for dinner. We put peas, tomatoes, onions, garlic, red cabbage, and curry powder in the mix. We had never used red cabbage before and thought it would be good to include. We were wrong.

7. We watched an old episode of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” We discovered the series long after it had been pulled off the air and we now periodically binge on past episodes.

8. In recording the rather unremarkable events that took place yesterday, I am placing them in a more permanent setting. Most likely I will remember those things I have written down, privileging them over the ones I have not recorded. By recording these certain events I have made them static, the memory of them able to corroborate with what I have written. The ones that are not here are free to move as they please, unhindered by my linguistic record.