Happy Holidays/ Visit from the Parents/Ryan Werner Redux

Yes dear children I know I've been neglect, and, accordingly in the posher suburbs of your States, I'd likely lose possession of you.  But much has transpired and much continues to and I gladly look forward to another island to reside in for the holiday where internet moves at a speed akin to us gaining reception of the keys to our new apartment (and thus entrance therein) (translation really fucking slow!)

Until the next one, feast your eyes on my holiday card, a Chris T. original...

And how could I forget the visit from my dear parents?  My mother, shouldering thru an elbow surgery, and my father, tasting the local alcohols.  And me,  Jack, and Tom, drinking girly drinks that could barely inebriate the likes of Ryan Werner.

Oh Colombia..!

Sundance/ANOTHER EARTH/Remembering Home

I'm feeling as removed from the US as I have since I lived in Havana.

That is not necessarily a bad thing--just that it's easy to forget that you have a life there.  Simple things.  The people who are, when the geographic is applicable, of importance--friends, fellow drinkers, ex-girlfriends and lovers, neighbors, annoying office mates, Mickey from the Ear and George from Pao and even that rat bastard crumbsucker Stefan.  And Nora--let's not get into that bungled procedural.  In a way I can't totally nail down, they remain as abstract memories  triggered from characters in films you see late in Santa Marta that bare only the slightest resemblances in appearance or demeanor. to the figures in the faded Iphotos.

But on films and memories, and straying from post-Xanex musings, a film that I worked on in the not too distant past and that is without a doubt more of a moving picture in my mind was just accepted to competition at Sundance.  To boot, it was written, co-written, and directed by two of my favorite people in the world--Mike Cahill and Brit Marling.

Mike and I have been conspiring and collaborating since our first days of University, and Brit, Mike and I for an almost equal amount of time.  We've traversed the Go-Go clubs of DC; the depths of Central Havana when Mike became convinced that he was allergic to his mattress in Vedado; and been asked to leave some of the posher bars and clubs in nyc for trying to swing from chandeliers.

It's been over ten years of working together and I'm proud more than anything to have an imprint, however small, on ANOTHER EARTH and to have helped in my own small way to shepherd it to the most prominent festival in the United States.

I'm exhausted.  But these pictures aren't.

Weirdly enough I can't find anymore of Cahill.  I suppose  would be lousy as an archivist.