I walked through the door and sat on the closest available seat. The carriage was relatively busy. I looked around, as I usually do, to see if any interesting/dangerous characters are on board. On the block of 4 seats directly across from mine sat a woman, early 20’s. She had an allure I was instantly drawn towards. She was wearing corduroy; I like corduroy.

She must have noticed me staring at her, because she looked at me. We stared at each other for about 2 seconds, but it felt a lot longer. She smiled at me. I titled my head with a “sup” type thing, I don’t know why. A few seconds later she moved from the outer seat to the window seat. Was this an invitation? I don’t know, but as per usual, I didn’t act upon it.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at Richmond Station; my stop. I stood up, hoping that she would also be getting off. She didn’t. As I walked out the door, I looked at her through the window, knowing that the barrier was some kind of protection. She smiled at me. The train left.

Why the hell didn’t I talk to her?

Before I knew it, it was 11PM and my shift was over. I had spent the last 30 minutes thinking about how I would say goodbye. We had only worked together for 6 months, we weren’t friends and we had nothing in common. Our relationship was simple and consisted of small-talk. But we enjoyed each others company.

We both walked up to one another, knowing we would never see each other again. We exchanged hands and wishes for the best. He told me to “drive carefully”.

The drive home was quite sad. I thought about the last 6 months. He didn’t mean much to me, but I still liked him. It’s very rare that you get to say goodbye to someone. One less nice person in my life.

I hate the beach. It ranks number one on my list of least favourite places, ahead of clubs and the racecourse. It has everything I hate amalgamated into one. Firstly, water. I hate being wet, and I hate swimming. There is nothing enjoyable about water. It’s just there, all filthy with its salt. Secondly, sand. Sand is my least favourite substance. “It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere”. Thirdly, people. People are horrible. And people who go to the beach are usually the most obnoxious. Lying there, sun-baking with their coconut oil, carefully choosing the right angle for their next Instagram post. Having fun, with their UDL’s and friends. I hate the beach.

I treated my Individual Interview as more of an experiment than an assessment. This is because I opted to control the camera handheld rather than with a tripod. I decided this for two reasons; one, because I have little to no experience/skill operating a camera this way and two, because most of the content I naturally gravitate towards today is filmed handheld.

At first, I had a lot of problems. The camera (probably) weighs more than me, I wasn’t comfortable with my choice of functions and had to constantly change them, and I had to improvise quite a lot. But as the filming went on, I became more adept.

The content itself isn’t particularly interesting. I knew that it wasn’t of primary importance, so I asked my friend to (try) and replicate a rant he previously performed to me about his ex-girlfriend, her family, and how they relate to the Seven Deadly Sins. It couldn’t be recreated as we quickly learned it was an in-the-moment type rant. A lot of the footage is of him complaining about how difficult the interview is, so I thought I’d edit that into the final cut because it’s more honest and less contrived. I decided to film him close-up, and use the shadow of his hat over his eyes to create a mood.

The result as a whole was a pleasant surprise, as in the past I couldn’t really predict during the filming stage if the product would come out how I expected. I feel the focus was pretty good for a majority of the interview, the only thing I wasn’t *that* happy with was the exposure. It was okay, but there were some moments where the subject and background were over-exposed.

Reflecting on experiencing Observation #7

Robin’s suggestion of walking for half-an-hour served its purpose of temporarily clearing the mind of any distraction, and being able to focus on observing the surroundings. Usually when I’m walking I am accompanied by my set of earphones, listening to a political or film-related podcast. Therefore my mind is somewhat occupied. I decided to walk without earphones to enhance my experience; it was initially unusual but ultimately worthwhile.

My previous observation details how difficult it is to truly have a clear state of mind when walking as you are always walking towards something. My conclusion is essentially that one can become free from distractions, and be able to truly observe, but only on a temporary basis.

It’s rare that people, or one, just ‘walk’ without an idea of where they’re going. Most people walk towards something. On more rare occasions, people walk away from something, but even then, a decision must eventually be made about their destination. Is it truly possible to walk aimlessly? Obviously it’s a temporary state, but can the inevitable thought of “where am I going” be delayed for a prolonged period? Can one just walk and focus on and observe their surroundings?

I’ve had some time to think about my Individual Exercise 1. I mentioned in my last reflective post the technical problems I had, but not the actual work itself.

On a surface level, my two shots are of my friend Melissa reading in the garden. Recently, I’ve been watching a lot of films by De Palma and Hitchcock, and thought I’d try and replicate their use of voyeurism by using the camera as a character. The camera in first shot is positioned inside, looking outside onto Melissa through blinds. Some would probably consider it a work of male gaze. While I was conscious of that choice when filming, I feel the outcome is ultimately neutral. The second shot is less explicit; filmed outside with nothing restricting the subject. But the angle does represent some kind of secretive observation. Overall, I’m quite pleased with my thematic choices, rather than the technique of the shot.

There’s nothing quite like driving in the dead of night. I’m fully in control, not just through the practice of driving, but rather my ability to choose. I don’t have an obligation to drive anywhere. I can choose my destination, and I can choose my route to that destination. I don’t have to think ahead, but I do have the choice to reflect on the past. I can decide if I want to be accompanied by sound, and I can decide what that sound is. The dead of night is dark, peaceful and lonely, and it provides me with great fulfilment.

My friend also drives at night, and for the exact same reasons. He calls it ‘Freedom Riding’.

I’m poor. Fiscally, socially, sexually, but mostly fiscally. I spend whatever little money I make on films and food; an expensive but glorious combination. On my to the cinema, I thought I’d purchase a bag of chips for the screening in a pathetic attempt to make myself feel better. After carefully assessing the various brands and flavours, I opted for Red Rock Deli’s ‘Honey Soy Chicken’; only the finest, for a fine man like myself. Sure, it’s the most expensive, but I didn’t have a lot to work with; Smiths are vastly overrated, Kettle are too salty for my liking and Home Brand is Home Brand; it’s cheap for a reason. And don’t get me started on the cheese-riddled filth that is Doritos.

I arrived at the cinema 45 minutes early to secure the seat I always must have; middle of the middle. The wait in line was long and arduous, but I knew it would be worth it; the right setting is essential for the chips to be fully appreciated.

We were finally let in, and I was able to acquire the seat I wanted. The previews begun, but as always, I chose to hold out on my cravings until the beginning of the film, where then, and only then, would I submit to the dominatrix of the chips. During the previews, I looked around to see many of the audience eating their respective snacks. I don’t get this at all. Unless you’re eating an ice-cream, why wouldn’t you wait until the start of the film and maximise your experience?

The 10 minutes were nearly up. I was salivating; oh how I desired that sweet, sensual taste. I was tapping my fingers against the arm rest and noticed the two 30-somethings sitting next to me. I had nothing to do, so I thought I’d eavesdrop on their conversation. Work, relationships, pretty mundane stuff, when suddenly the one directly next to me says “I was at this movie last night, really good, except the guy next to me was eating this bag of chips and it was so fucking loud. Like it was crazy. I was trying to enjoy this beautiful ambience but all I could focus on was his fucking chips.” Oh no. This was not good. What the hell could I do? Should I eat the chips anyway in a brave act of defiance? Do I have it in me? I think I do. I think I do! Fuck him! Then he says “I actually had to tell him to shut up“. Okay. So I don’t have it in me. That’s fine. Hey, no worries. Except I’m pissed off. I would totally do it in an action film, where the gunshots and explosions would drown out the chomps of the chips. But this was a French art film. They use silence as a fucking convention. I couldn’t do it, I didn’t do it. The movie sucked, and I ate the chips on the train ride home as a means of comfort.