Trust your gut, listen to your instincts. The advice predates Facebook by a millennium at least, and even today you can find this sentence posted nearly millions of times.
Very familiar with these sentences, we think we know what they mean. Semantically, we DO know. But these sentences in the form of advice… they are only important if we take them seriously.Perhaps it is less about listening and trusting, and more about respecting. How do you respect your instincts? Action. The advice could be: Let your instincts truly guide your actual actions. If faith in your instinct guides only your fantasy of action, then it is of no use at all.
How often do we know something is true on a very base/gut level, yet act as if the truth we know is a lie? As if our instinct are lying to us?! Your gut will never insist that the truth is a lie. You can count on that! It may turn out to be very unfortunate that we, as human beings, deny the accuracy of our primal instincts with such a zealous frequency.
Oh look what I found….What do we have here?? Is this a seed?? Ah! It IS a seed. And NOT the seed of knowledge either. (Yes, he actually said this! When I tell this story orally, people always ask. Yes.)
I stood, facing the rear of the car, not really knowing how to respond. Shoving the purse unnecessarily across the trunk of the car, he moved toward me, whipping out his handcuffs and turning me around in one motion. Placing the metal cuffs roughly on my wrists, he barked at me “Do you realize the gravity of the situation, now?? Do you??” Now, there was no loss for words, no thought of how to respond; only tears and a head full of mucous, a mouth full of “Yes sir!” that had to be let out!
The female officer arrived to search me.
Regular joe, flannel shirt, grey pocket tshirt, shitkickers, jeans, baseball cap. dirty. dirty clothes dirty hands. carries a box of tools, heavy. walks down side street on his way home from work. uneven sidewalk, weeds grow through, uneven sidewalk to the steps that lead three down to his basement apartment. the door is white, windowthrough the molding you see the inside of dirty white curtains.
He enters. It is dank, dark, almost green. IN the room before him there is one bald lightbulb odd 80 watt with strting attached. light is on. to the right against the wall ther is a vanity with mirror, dark wood, slightly ornate. other wise the room is empty and grey.
taking two steps to the left and turning to face toward the street is the second room, just a dark, and green. a small window that is more wall than window resides. otherwise the long flourescent tube lighting is the main feature. It buzzes and flickers. Not continously, just enought to be disconcerting. There is a twin bed on springs.
The man sits on the bed, defeated. As he does both end of the mattress lift as the springs screech in protest. HIs long face contemplates his situation. THe audience can infer whatever they like here. that is the fun part. He picks up nail gun and sits back down, the bed reacts as always, the nail gun in his right hand placed gently on his right knee, his legs relaxed. CU on face. closes eyes…wishes…is denied…this is unseen of course except that his hand, the one holding the nail gun begins to shake. cu hand with nail gun, cu face decision made, cu hand shaking, lifting slowly, cu face, cu hand cu face, cu nail gun to head. pause, sweat, blank open eyes, then…. WHAP!!!! his head holds steady but out of frame goes his nailgun hand. still clutched tightly, cu face barely flinches. Whap! Whap!! this goes on a bit quicker each time as he gains confidence in his abilty to shoot himself in the head with long nails. After (in my mind 9, but that may be a bit much, He stops. his hand with nailgun drops back to knee (cu this). cu face. Blank. He slowly stands and casually drops the nailgun to the bed. walks zombie like to other room to view himself in the vanity mirror. (Camera behind subject to see lightbulb, subject, refelction of both, in darkness, nearly silohette). pan in a bit closer on subjects left side, as he scrutinizes his relection. then cu to face on right as a slow smile of satisfaction creeps onto his mouth and in his eyes. All the pride that he would have needed to stop from killing himself is there in his final smile. Cut to:aerial view of his bald head with the nail rivets. Auditoraly, the audience begins to hear the cracking of the skull, visually we see the nail rivets begin to crack and form a connect the dots puzzle on his head….Cut quickly to Black with dramatic whhomp!!!!
Yeah, so I am cursed to write.
If I find myself not writing, I secretly hope my tongue will fall out so I will shut up and be forced to write more, and speak less.