The Remake

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

Hi,

I’m putting this anonymously on a reddit post. Just so the world knows. I don’t think anybody will recognise me but also, I think you will all know who I am. I’m super famous so true anonymity is hard. Plus who wants to be completely anonymous.

I’m making another mega famous movie hit. Its likely to be a cultural moment again. But there’s been a hitch. I just need to say this to somebody. I’ve left in the bits about the oatmilk, because I think it demonstrates a really toxic atmosphere and reinforces the unfairness of the whole situation. Plus I am a brand sponsor for them. Oops.

Here goes.

I thought nothing of it when there was a few extra press on set. I just assumed it was pre-release publicity. A few snaps of the stars, or the star (me). I was happy to oblige. You’ve probably seen them online and in the mags, although not as many as you would expect.

I was a little surprised at their lack of interest in me. I mean, I am the one carrying this project, but there focus seemed a little off. They seemed much more interested in the set and the plot. I mean there is a plot, but I don’t usually worry about the plot until the post production media tour. Plots are not my strongest point, usually I talk about my hair.

So this was unusual. I didn’t question it at the time though. I was too busy honing my craft, making sure my make up was perfect and the camera was getting my best angle. Also oatmilk! They had oatmilk, but not oatmilk from the producer I endorse, so that was making for some tension between me and the Director.

It was a least a week, before I heard anyone refer to the movie as ‘the original’. Again slightly odd, but movie people, we have a language all of our own. Then my agent called about release dates and availability for promotion. She didn’t say anything either.

It was a brief call, and really mostly focussed on the Oatmilk debacle, which was really affecting my performance. There were some shortages apparently, production pipelines, international events (who cares????) affecting things. Dear god, just pay someone to go there and squeeze some oat sheep or whatever. I remember saying that. She said something about oat sheep, that I didn’t catch as I hung up.

I was at an event two weeks after that, dressed by Dior but the wrong oatmilk makes me look bloated, if you look at the pictures you’ll see, so please don’t. I met ‘her’ there. The ‘actress’, up and coming, the new ‘me’. Again I didn’t think that much about it. We were about the same age, to be clear, I think she has had some work done. I clearly haven’t. I was born with a lesser number of ribs and as for my nose and teeth, I was blessed with a flexible nose structure that doesn’t settle until you are in you’re 20’s. It’s a rare gene, not many people have it. And my teeth are naturally white, oatmilk (at least the brand I use) is actually a natural cleaner of enamel, something to do with what the sheep eat, or maybe its bees, or the bees the sheep eat. Its not important. I’m not paid to promote sheep or bees.

The thing is we were in the same room together and naturally the talk turned to work. Actual work as opposed to work done, like I said I am sure she has had some done, I do think I mentioned that earlier. Its it impolite to ask these things and even more impolite to write about them so I will stop.  

Anyway she mentioned our upcoming ‘scenes’ together, which I did not know about????  I did not even know she was in the movie! I think it was in my contract about other actresses, about me getting a veto, about top billing and about the right oatmilk. I smiled sweetly and said I couldn’t wait. I do think her teeth are a little yellow, if you see the shots, let me know what you think?

Before I even got to the next party, I called my agent. 2am, she wasn’t awake. Honestly what is she doing at 2am that she is not out of bed. I remembered then she actually doesn’t do any drugs, so perhaps she was doing what other people who don’t do drugs do at 2am. Whatever the hell that is. I’m going to Google that, although as you will see I am doing my best to avoid Google at this point. She fobbed me off with a, ‘lets discuss in the morning’ and said she had good news about the oatmilk.

Firstly!  She did not have good news about the oatmilk, it was still at least a week away.

But it turns out that actress and I are doing a few scenes together next week. But it is not at all like you imagine.

I need to say upfront, that the ‘original’, the film I am in, has not been released yet, is not due for release until October. It will fit nicely into awards season.

But people, you will have read about it I know you will.

She is in the remake! She is playing my character IN THE REMAKE!

Now I know the time between the original and the remake is getting lesser, but this film is not even out yet. How is that going to work? I can see it on the street, a bus goes past advertising ‘me’ in the original and the bus coming right after it, has her in the ‘remake’.

There is talk about sequencing, is a fortnight long enough? IT IS NOT!

IT IS NOT! If I wasn’t beholden to a contract and being paid a substantial amount of money plus the freebies you get in awards season I would speak out about it. VERY LOUDLY. Instead I am doing it anonymously on Reddit.

As it is, the official line is, ‘its always wonderful when you’re success can be a catalyst for someone else to do well’.  And I have to say that!

What the hell is a catalyst, I hate cats! I wish that other actress a long and painful death and really bad oatmilk as she goes. I want her bloated like a bloat thing while she fades into oblivion on a diet of whatever less beautiful people eat.

And to make it worse I am doing a cameo in the remake, playing the mother of the character that I am in the original but she is in the remake. They are going to age me with either makeup or AI or something. As if it could ever be remotely believable that she is my daughter and I am her mother.

The press is full of, ‘This hasn’t been done before, the remake released two weeks after the original, with a cameo!’.

Critics questioning how long before the remake is released before the original? Does the word ‘original’ still even have meaning anymore?

This is the 21st century people. I don’t know how we got here. Its all over the news and yet nothing about the oatmilk crisis. I’m not political. I don’t have opinions. I am thin. Its always been enough!

The world is changing around me. I know I have to change with it and I am making an effort. I am resolved to get through this. I am strong, although not in the gym sense. Visible muscularity is not for me. I am empowered, although that is via flimsy clothing in photo shoots. I am confidant, although not entirely sure of the spelling of it. I am a team player, provided I am captain and people do what I ask.

Nonetheless I am determined. I am going to change with the times. This week I am resolved. I am going to do something that is going to make a difference to the world.

I am going to wear the same pair of shoes twice in the one week.

I will show them, they cannot mess with me. This is what I am made of.

And then I Flew

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

The beginning

I cling to the tree. A spindly, sparsely leafed whip of a thing that is no taller than me. I’m not sure I should call it a tree. It’s a cluster of gnarled branches with the odd bit of greenery. Its central stem only slightly thicker than the rest of it.

Its roots can’t go that deep. The top of this cliff is sand and dust and beneath it is the stone that is this edifice. The tree is the nearest growth to the cliff edge, a brave little soldier that clings on to life, much as I cling on to it. Sometimes I pour the remains of my water bottle on it. I like to think I am keeping it alive and not vice versa, or at the very least our relationship is symbiotic.

When I let go of this tree, there is nothing between me and the edge. I come here often. And I cling to the tree. I feel its papery bark sticking into my fingers. Sometimes I get splinters, small grey bits of  tree that I take home. I dig them out with a needle. Little specs of blood and bark intermingle on a tissue on a table in my lounge.  

I am scared of heights. Or edges, maybe edges.

Some people are scared of heights because they are afraid of falling, others because they are afraid they will jump. That last one has a name, that fear of jumping,  High Places Phenomenon.  Apparently its your brain misfiring, misinterpreting the signals, that’s the science stuff. In literature when its described, its more about freedom, about the void, about flying, about wanting to know how it feels. A few seconds of absolute freedom, of falling.  Its hard to describe why its so attractive as an idea.

That’s why I am here again clutching the spindly tree. I am back from the edge. I am not thinking of the landing, just wondering about the sensation, the feeling of those first seconds, milliseconds. How will that feel?  To just go over the edge, to know that sensation. I cannot control it, that urge, desire.  Not easily. So I hold the tree. I let myself imagine. Close my eyes. See it. Guess at the feeling.  But not too much. After a long time I let go of the tree. I turn around and I go home.  

I do not think it is healthy for me to live near here much longer.

The middle

I moved away. Down along the coast. Somewhere flat.  The highest rock on the beach, about 2 feet, most I could do was jump onto sand and sprain an ankle. I swam in the ocean. I drank in cutesy coffee shops. I had long lunches with friends. I held a job, bought a house. Years passed and I thought it was gone. That feeling in my belly. That thing I was never quite in control of.

And then one day I was swimming in that ocean, and I felt it. The lump. I thought a lot of things, and I thought of that again, of that sensation, of free falling. Of not ever knowing it, well at least not in a physical sense. There was a visceral sense of falling but not a physical one. I went for tests, there was a treatment plan. A diagnosis. A prognosis. A life, a future, curtailed but there behind the meds. Hope. And I went back to the ocean, to its coldness, to its salty embrace, to prepare, to deal with it all, to get my brain in gear.

But I knew. I knew the end.

The end

The day before treatment started. I packed up the car. I drove. After 20 years the old town looked different. I went to that car park, which was now much closer to the edge. They moved it, but my beloved little tree was still there. Not much taller, still spindly, still clinging on. I booked into the only hotel in town. I slept. At 6am I got up. And then before daylight came I drove back to the car park.

It was empty. I got out of the car. I took off my boots and socks. This was a bare foot trip. The car park was gravel so the first few steps were not pretty. After that it gave way to dust and sand.  I went beyond the barrier to the tree. That wondrous, spindly, spiky creature that had held me steadfast for so long. I high fived the warning sign as I went.

Danger beyond this point. It should have said freedom.

I grabbed that little tree like I had so many times before. I spoke to it softly. Remember me. And I’m sorry.  And there’s a lump, they say I will get better but I don’t want that. I asked it for forgiveness, like it was a God. And just to bear witness. I felt its bark dig into my hand. It had not changed in 20 years and deep inside I hadn’t changed that much either.

Then I looked into the sun that was emerging on the horizon. I peeled each finger off the tree. I stood beside it briefly. I didn’t scream or yell. I just ran. Only a few steps. I felt my feet pound into the ground. The dust being kicked up.  And then there was no more ground. And one foot felt the air and then the other foot.

And then I flew.

Love is just a feeling

Posted on by tuesdaylatte

I have brought a box of chaos
And left it at your door
You might have thought you’d had enough
But I know you wanted more

If there is a holy grail
I have never seen it
And all those words I said
You know I didn’t mean it

When I played the song
I said it was just for you
But it’s the same song
I played for all the others too

There are dark, dark corners
In the glorious estate of the mind
Thoughts lurk beneath the surface
That no one else can find

Waves on a beach
Pebbles on shore
Lots of lovely ideas
Lots of wild metaphor

But hidden in the silent moment
In places dark and deep
There is evil in our memory
I watch you while you sleep

Will it be you or will it be me
Its always been a gamble
When thoughts reach our finger tips
Never forget we are animal

And so we walk a line
A tender loving stretch
As if tomorrow was our yesterday
And we were not a sketch

A vague outlined idea
Of what our lives should be
A house, a car, a dog,
Two kids and you and me

Wretched, wicked and worn
I toss it into the flame
The world will say I loved you
Because there is no other name

But love is just a feeling
It exists inside your head
It does not exist without you
It goes where you are led

So when you hear that song
Words you thought you’d never say
Remember love is a feeling
And like all feelings, it can go away.