WEBSITE: http://themoviehwor...
LOCATION: Chico, Ca
RECORDS: 5
LATEST RECORD: 2 years ago
JOINED: March 11, 2010
LOCATION: Chico, Ca
RECORDS: 5
LATEST RECORD: 2 years ago
JOINED: March 11, 2010
TheMovieWhore's RECommendations
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Episodes from the Coffee Shop. Sip. And sipping some more. There is something about the atmosphere of a coffee shop. Perhaps it is the sense of collectiveness in everyone’s effort towards productivity. The pitter-pattering of laptop keys and each noggin buried and bobbing away in some kind of paperback, hardback, pocket book, or e-book. Sip. Sip. Sip. Caffeine shooting out in every nook and cranny, stimulating the nervous system - veins pulsating. Comfortably placed in the corner of the shop where I have easy access to all foot traffic, I take delight in eyeballing fellow patrons of a good cup o’ joe. I take down commentaries on a notepad I bought specifically for such an occassion. And so it commences. Sip. And sipping some more. My fingers softly beating against the table top. My neck outstretched so as to see the door open, anxious for my first subject to enter. They’re late. Whoever they maybe. I scribble. Patience is a virtue. Sip. Sip. Sip. Ahhh, the door opens. An elderly woman with a male child clinging onto her spindly fingers step in. A gentle flurry of air follows them. My eyeballs watch as my hands struggle to scrawl details on my journal. The male child looks over the counter and ogles the freshly baked madeleines. With outstretched arms and eyes taking heed of the gray-haired woman, his meathooks slowly grab one sweet cake. Whack! The woman clouts him on the hand. Clouded, his eyeballs rain clear salty liquid. The pigheaded male child reaches for the sweet stuff once more. Wham! The woman’s puckered face came closer to the male child. Tongue-lashing ensued. Sip. Sip. Sip. I jotted down particulars quickly. Wriggling around my chair as I anxiously watched. The male child insists and tugs on her blouse. The woman’s charcoal mop of hair glistened as she shook her head side-to-side. His coral lips puckered and eyeballs misty, he let out a theatrical wail. There was much rubbernecking. Sheepish, she reddened and took a French cake. The male child prances victoriously. He extends his tentacles and with an exuberant face takes his sweet prize. |
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Episodes from the Coffee Shop. Sip. And sipping some more. There is something about the atmosphere of a coffee shop. Perhaps it is the sense of collectiveness in everyone’s effort towards productivity. The pitter-pattering of laptop keys and each noggin buried and bobbing away in some kind of paperback, hardback, pocket book, or e-book. Sip. Sip. Sip. Caffeine shooting out in every nook and cranny, stimulating the nervous system - veins pulsating. Comfortably placed in the corner of the shop where I have easy access to all foot traffic, I take delight in eyeballing fellow patrons of a good cup o’ joe. I take down commentaries on a notepad I bought specifically for such an occassion. And so it commences. Sip. And sipping some more. My fingers softly beating against the table top. My neck outstretched so as to see the door open, anxious for my first subject to enter. They’re late. Whoever they maybe. I scribble. Patience is a virtue. Sip. Sip. Sip. Ahhh, the door opens. An elderly woman with a male child clinging onto her spindly fingers step in. A gentle flurry of air follows them. My eyeballs watch as my hands struggle to scrawl details on my journal. The male child looks over the counter and ogles the freshly baked madeleines. With outstretched arms and eyes taking heed of the gray-haired woman, his meathooks slowly grab one sweet cake. Whack! The woman clouts him on the hand. Clouded, his eyeballs rain clear salty liquid. The pigheaded male child reaches for the sweet stuff once more. Wham! The woman’s puckered face came closer to the male child. Tongue-lashing ensued. Sip. Sip. Sip. I jotted down particulars quickly. Wriggling around my chair as I anxiously watched. The male child insists and tugs on her blouse. The woman’s charcoal mop of hair glistened as she shook her head side-to-side. His coral lips puckered and eyeballs misty, he let out a theatrical wail. There was much rubbernecking. Sheepish, she reddened and took a French cake. The male child prances victoriously. He extends his tentacles and with an exuberant face takes his sweet prize. |
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Episodes from a Coffee Shop - Day 2: Rendezvous with the Lady in Red I pushed the door open and allowed the gratifying odor of coffee beans brewing enter my nasal cavities. I walked over to the table I designated as my work surface hoping that it was unoccupied. Gleeful, I sat and warmed the seat with my rump. Before I could take out my journal, the door swung open. In came a robust woman in vermillion attire. She looked quite disheveled. It was quite evident, the female was tardy for an appointment - her gargantuan of a bosom was heaving. She scanned the room waiting to lock eyeballs with someone. I searched the room with her. Along the corner of the shop was a gauntly fellow growing restless until he beheld the ruby figure. He became rigid and struggled to wave as his hands feebly moved to and fro. The female’s lips twinkled and sauntered over to his direction. With such reverence, the fella stood up and they exchanged civilities. The gent gracefully motioned with his hands to the seat that was strategically placed next to his own. Such spectacle! Oh, how I wished to have procured lip-reading skills so that I may jot down the chit-chat between the incongruous couple. I was desperate to hear the words that spilled out of their lips. However, not wanting to seem creepy by hovering too close, I resigned to my seat. I could not hear any dialogue, but I was still able to gawk at the pair. The woman’s hands fluttered everywhere as she talked incessantly while he committed himself to paying attention. The chatterbox finally took a breather. I giggled as I witnessed the woman suggestively guide the straw into her orifice to take a sip of her beverage. I awaited for the fellow’s equally tawdry response. He smirked and turned away for a brief second. Nature calls! The woman stood up and sashayed her way into the ladies’ room. Subtly, his head swiveled around and eyeballs followed the figure. As soon as the bathroom door clicked, the fella bolted up his seat and galloped through the doors. |
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hello my fellow hit recorders! so, i've turned in two records so far (stay-tuned for more) - both short stories. they're part of what i call coffee shop series that i am continuously working on. basically, i plan on writing short stories with an narrator who is a bystander in everything that goes on in the coffee shop. the voice picks a "candidate(s)" to observe and write about. the narrator takes particular interest in recording and finding out people's "uninhibited public behavior". if you're interested in creating a short film based on the series i've started or even producing your own skits based on the coffee shop series, let the recording begin! i think it'd be fun to see what everyone comes up with, enjoy! =) |
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Just a quick note from your friendly founder to let you all know what I'm up to these days. All of a sudden, a truly magnificent acting job has come my way. It's going to be one of those ones that's extremely consuming, and the reason I'm telling you all of this is... For the next couple months, I'll probably be around hitRECord.org a bit less. I'm still gonna keep up the weekly regularity, and I'll definitely still be playing RECords and making recommendations. Also, there's still a really cool announcement coming, probably in the next few days, sorry that got delayed. And, in the same video, I'll make my initial proposal for how to divide up the $10,000 to be distributed among the hitRECorders whose RECords were resourced in the Sundance screening. Anyway, we've done this plenty of times before over the years. Sometimes I'm around less than other times, usually due to a job like this one. I just figured I'd mention it this time, because this'll be the first time since the version 4 site launch, since the HITRECORD ACCORD, since Sundance, etc. But fear not! We shall proceed and continue. Thanks again... <3 J |
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THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE I WHILE AGO AND FOUND AGAIN. LET ME KNOW HOW YA FEEL... CHAN The fine line of our sanity, is only bequeathed unto us behind a brick wall of REASON. But REASON is not instinctual. It is acquired through trial. Like that of a child being told not to touch something because it will pain. Only the child's wonder will be the true teacher. And that teacher will burn the lines of reason and societal sanity into that oh so precious piece of meat that processes pain. That pain will be the building blocks of character. Character as complex and unique as our very DNA. Pain in the growth of ones self is inevitable , therefor it instills initial fear in the evolution of our souls. Fear incapacitates the weak. The "what if's" in life are paralyzing. Yet the strong bull forward forever trampling the weak in their constant procession of what they feel is there birth- right. Proving more so the fact that the strong survive and the weak parish. Which in turn lays ground for the question . WHY, REASON?!! When REASON is governed by FEAR! So I say the instincts we are born with are Truth, Animalistic. Animals do not SIN! Sin is born of Consciousness. Consciousness is a direct conduit of REASON. So I ask you, people everyday REASON-ACT-REACT. What if we unlearn the first one? Would it force evolution? Or cast dissolution? What would happen if you took that oh so essential portion of that oh so precious piece of meat that creates reason and fed it to impulse? Which in turn chewed it up and vomited it back out. |
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Please allow me to introduce myself. NAME: Prevah Sarah Alyse, bat Avraham v'Rut AGE: Seven and twenty WEIGHT: A lady never tells HEIGHT: Taller than my eyebrows and a little shorter than my hair LOCALE: Ballard, Seattle, Washington SKILLS: Mandolin, washboard (playing; no practical application), vocals (musical and dramatic), photographicals, wordsmithery, storytelling, music trivia ALLIES: ManWithHat, AlexMcCucheon ANY IDENTIFYING MARKS OR SCARS: Right wrist, semicolon. Neck, 10" surgical scar. Chin, skipping backwards in preschool. First knuckle on right pointer, vicious folding table. INFLUENCES: Edna St Vincent Millay, RCJohnso, Chris Thile, Frank Turner, Eddie Izzard WEAKNESSES: Breakfast for dinner, frilly girly drinks, cowboy boots ARCH-NEMESES: Aquagenic puritis, frilly girly clothes, desk jobs |
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