Some Lines

Sometimes lines get stuck. They get trapped in our brain and bounce around like a golf ball in a brick oven.

Sometimes lines resonate. They hit our soul like a wind that shakes the whole tree from its roots to its hands.

Sometimes lines refract. When held to the light they prism-cast several shades of meaning and insight.

Sometimes lines breathe. They have a pulse that takes us by the wrist into slower paces of thinking.

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Haven Films has begun pre-production for their next film project. While brain storming and dream casting, a line got stuck. I'm sure it's been used somewhere. I even googled it to see if it's been used. I'm worried I saw it in a movie or read it in a book or something but forgot when and where and now think it's original. I might come across it some time, we'll see. But for now it's in the vault –– SIV 2012 Storm Pad.

Camp Ida-Haven August 6, 2011. Saturday night final edit, crunch time.
Phillip and Jon are two of the most creative and genius people I know. 

Contents copyright © 2012 by Haven Films

Ode to Jon

We all saw it, but we never knew it ... until now. We saw him sit in an apple's glow, cuddled in the corner of that old cabin by the creek. The foundation was made of concrete and the walls had begun looking like stories. They were covered in letters, photographs and cd's, Tibetan prayer flags, hats and legends of the fall. In the half-light of a monitor, it was hard to tell where the wall ended and he started to talk in his sleep.

"IT'S NOT FINIshedrrr, till the WHOLE THING ISrrrr ... Runn ... (Snore/snort, exhale)".

He wasn't acting, he was real. Not that he couldn't act if he wanted to, we'd all seen it before. Give him a mic and a stage and he was more capable than a pirate with a beer and a buccaneer. His mom even told us to check his bed for booty. We didn't though, because we all knew what we'd find. And who cares about high-end lemonade bottles and Theraflu packets? He said they put him to sleep, we didn't say anything. We just watched him in the blue glow of his computer screen with his iPhone hanging from his mouth like a high-tech pop-tart.

"Jon, are you a vampire?"

We all thought it, but we never asked it. He probably would have answered,

"Are you a ... fingers ... phizers?"

...

"Of course I'm a vampire."


We all knew it, but we never saw it, until now. The computer wasn't glowing, his insides were.