After such disenchantment on account of the PB2 presentation process, my idea has taken yet another turn, or, a reversion to be more accurate.
I was under no illusion that my PB2 project wasn’t up to scratch, technically and conceptually, but I guess what stood out for me most was the lack of inspiration. Watching my piece back on the big screen, I kept thinking to my self, what’s the premise, who’ll be involved and who the hell cares?
And therefore, I’ve return to thinking about the blues man living it rough on the streets of Melbourne.
After class today, I stormed down to Windsor Station to where he busks but alas, the cafe premises, where he frequents, has seemingly closed!
I couldn’t help but wonder, if the proprietors had closed their doors was on account of the motley crew that he attracted, or if something dreadful had happened and perhaps I’d need to break the news to his daughter, or… maybe they’ve all packed up and left town. But Occam’s razor would tell me that I’m playing out the archetypal worried parent (that I have become!) and I should calm my cotton socks and “wait until tomorrow”.
They’ll be back.
