Finn Judd's First Screenplay

Finn wanted to know if there was a Devil Duck cartoon movie. I said, “I don’t think so – why don’t we make one someday with the video camera? We’ll have to make up a story for it.” And he dictated the following story.


Finn Judd’s first Screenplay, as told to his Mom.

Title: Devil Duck Land

Once upon a time, a purple Devil Duck came, and she said, 'I love Devil Duck land!'

Then, a big mean Green Duck came and they were fightin'. Then, they said, 'I don't want to fight at each other!'

A big Mean Orange Duck came and he tried to kill Green Duck and Purple Duck. Then Orange Duck said, 'I Don't want to try and kill you!'

Then the big mean Red Duck came and he cried, 'I'm trying to kill you out of control!' Then he said, 'I Don't want to kill you out of control!'

Then a big big big spotted Devil Duck came and he tried to put Red Duck, Orange Duck, Purple Duck and Green Duck in jail. Then, the spotted Duck said, 'I Don't want to put you in jail!'

Then, the great big big Fire Duck came right over to Devil Duck land and he said, 'I want to put you in my mouth!' Then he said, 'I Don't want to put you in my mouth!'

Then a big big Pink Duck came running over to Devil Duck land and she said, 'I want to poke you on my horns!' Then she said, ‘I don’t want to poke you on my horns!’

Then a big big mean Clear Duck came running over to Devil Duck land and he said, ‘I want to put them in my squeaky!’

Then a great big mean Hapu (camouflage) Duck came running over to Devil Duck land and he said, ‘I want to put you in my beak!’ Then he said, ‘I Don’t want to put you in my beak.’

Then, a big big big Pirate Duck came running over the Devil Duck land. He said, ’I want to put you in my pirate’s treasure!’ Then, he said, ‘I Don’t want to put you inside my pirate’s treasure!’

(Cut to Mom writing: “Why are they changing their minds, do you think?” Finn: “‘cause that’s the movie I want to make up for them!”)

Then a Great Big Big Big Ginormous Green Devil Duck came running over to Devil Duck land and he said, ‘I want to poke you on my horns!’ and then he said, ‘I Don’t want to poke you on my horns!’

Then no Devil Ducks came running over to Devil Duck land.



The End.


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Acting, Emily - it's all about the Hair

Finn: what's that mask?

Me: What mask?

Finn: that thing, on your head!

Me: the braid? Finn: yeah.

Me: that's a braid I wear, to make my hair look long.

Finn: and that makes you turn into Emily Dickinson!

Me: Yes. Yes it does.

And therein, friends, lies the secret of all acting. It's all about the hair. Trust me. It is.

thanks to Emily Kight for putting it on my head every night, and to Mohini (aka MangoPowerGirl) for making me look so lovely in these pics.


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pretty, new, old summer sky magic

Do you like my new design?

I do. I love sky. The top photo is one I took, from the deck of Water's Edge, a great little double-wide we rented on the bay in Sequim. If I squinted, I could see the Dungeness Lighthouse off to the left.

The background is, alas, not my photo. But I have seen such skies.

And I want to see more.

I didn't even know I had a summer wish - and suddenly, there it is. Sometimes, writing is magic. It leads me to things that were lurking under the surface of the buzzy, to-do, "is everything gonna be okay" filled mind I usually scurry around with.

This thing - this until-now undiscovered summer wish:

I want to look at the sky.

I want to lay on the ground and just -

Look.
Up.
Quietly.

I think that is the medicine I need.

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did I just meditate?

I had a very intense moment yesterday morning, standing at the bathroom counter. I was feeling so burdened and stressed and weary and frustrated and angry...

So I took a deep breath to send off a prayer - and before I could articulate my desire, the stress was gone. I was light as a happy cloud. I could feel pink, warm, comfy compassion swirling around me. It was kind of unnerving - mostly because I hadn't even "said" my prayer yet - so all the burden came back. I felt it physically settle back down onto me.

All of this, above, happened in what was probably 20 to 30 seconds, max, in "real" time - but it seemed to take much longer.

I tried again - I remembered that I'd just taken a deep breath when the freedom came - so I did that again. And it happened again. Then I tried to articulate some words in my mind, and the stress came back. So I just breathed again - freedom.

It was heavenly. It lasted for maybe 2 beautiful, happy, floating minutes. Then I had to come out of the bathroom and be with other people, and life of course came back.

But man. That 2 minutes was amazing.

Is this what you all aspire to, meditators? Someone tell me more, please.

'Cause I need a little piece .... whoa. I meant to write "peace" but the other word came out - wonder what that means? I need a piece of change? piece of heaven? a little corner of the sky?

I have a disabled husband. An amazing son who may need special ed services of some kind. I have so little money.

My shoulders are tired.

Maybe I'll get another 2 minutes of peace today.




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American stories...

I got to vocal coach at Jack Straw this morning. Students from Foster HS in Tukwila - all recent immigrants, all extraordinary poets.

Poems about their lives. About a father being killed in what used to be the green garden of Afghanistan, where the streets now run red with blood.

About being a witness to a woman being raped in Somalia and now unable to walk.

About missing the clean clear cold waters of home, and a grandmother left in Nepal.

And they are teenagers... relating these unbelievably heart-rending stories, and then getting excited to edit them on the Mac.

My life, as a middle-class white American = CAKE.

These are stories we ALL need to hear - they are our future, these young people. They have lived through things we wince at when we see them in movies.

I am humbled, grateful. Trying to pay attention.


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dinner conversations with a five, going on six, year old...

Son: When I'm big, I'm not going to high school.

Me: Where are you going to go?

Son: Kindergarten! When I'm little!

Me: What about when you're big?

Son: I'm not going to high school.

Me: What are you going to do?

Son: Stay home! Every day!

Me: What are you going to do at home?

Son: Play games, on pbskids.org, and read my books, and play with my toys, and look at pictures, and look at flowers, and eat pizza.



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Eloquent editorial -

I have been surprised and happy at all the comments from Facebook friends about my last posting (my posts here show up there as notes).

In a rare instance last week, I wrote that post in a moment of real outrage and passion. I usually tend to wait until I'm thoughtful and less emotional to post. Interesting, that.

Below is a link to a smart, well-written, opinion from Frank Rich about the events of the past week. I really liked it, and wanted to share.

For me, I keep thinking that it's good to be a part of history. I keep telling myself to pay attention. As some of you know, I've been fantasizing for some time about moving to Vashon Island. It seems a safe harbor, a quiet green refuge in the midst of turbulent times. And then I read Mr. Rich, and wonder if that's a cop-out somehow - if I should instead stay where I am, in hyper-diverse south Seattle, and dig in for the long haul.

More will be revealed.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/28/opinion/28rich.html





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