Cutting

Patrick is still cutting about a sequence a day. I have to start skipping sequences. We’re supposed to finish with Ken by Friday, and there are 17 sequences left to cut.

Postcard

The Headhunters are really flash. They have nice cars. They have leather shoes. They are good with the ladies. Most people would say that they have it going. Do they? I investigate further. The work enslaves them with promises of one more big deal, a few more million yen. And the pressure and the monotony and the sheer boredom of making 50 to 100 phone calls a day trying to find the guy, trying to find the guy, trying to close the deal. They tell me it’s the bomb, but I see it drive them into the bars of Roppongi most every night. It drives them to drug and drink fueled conquests of girl after girl. The noise, the bars, the toys, the girls, the drink…This is not freedom, is it? But it is…it is their brand of freedom. And I have to remember that it’s not my definition of freedom I’m looking for. And there is no such thing as THE definition of freedom. There are as many as there are people.

Postcard

We took that long bus from Narita into central Tokyo…into Shinjuku. I haven’t been here in 2 years, but it feels like yesterday…like I’ve fallen back into a recurring dream. Every building, every electric wire calls to me: “You are home” they say. “Okaeri” they say. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure why I came back. Something about freedom, something about dreams, something about this place that’s like an illusion. I’ll figure it out. My plan is to start with the headhunters. They know everybody in this town…Japanese and Gaijin alike. They can tell me a thing or two.

Grand Narrative vs. mini-narrative

I’m thinking about “grand narrative”…something that Marc asked about. I’m interested in mini-narratives all centered around the themes of freedom, new frontier, escape...escape to the new frontier provides freedom from 1) cultural constructs…they are not bound by their own culture because it is so far away…they don’t have to play by the rules of their adopted culture. They are not expected to. 2) traditional modes of being…freedom from judgement by family, friends, society. You can pretty much do what you want within certain contraints, and even those are a bit flexible…don’t get caught, don’t involve the police, don’t make a public spectacle of yourself outside of Roppongi. There is a great deal of freedom there. But what makes Tokyo unique? Tolerant culture, ease at which you can live, reinvention.

Getting messy now. Need to think about his more and write my response to Marc.

Mom called. The wole of NOLA is being evacuated. Katrina is scheduled to hit tonorrow. The evacuation is mandetory. Mom is heading up to Alexandria with the old lady. My sister is going to Texarkana.

Watched the documentary on Bukawski on TV. The drive. And he was so prolific. He never thought he could make money off his writing. He never thought he’d be successful. But he just kept writing. He just kept sending his stuff out. That’s some kind of inspiration. Forget Van Gogh, I think he will be my new role model (sans the drinking as my little body just can’t handle that kind of abuse). But, he wrote about his life. He brought poetry back where it belonged…in the hands of the people. He said that he couldn't imagine a day without writing. It put fear into his heart. I know how he feels. I only write in the journals every day. A poem will pop out here and there. I guess it’s some kind of commitment.

What am I trying to say? Something about following your dreams. Something about sacrifice. Something about dreams and illusion and constructing your own reality. Still trying to scratch it out of my head. Tokyo is the post-modern urban frontier. A place to fulfill all of your dreams. The land of opportunity. A magical, mystical place that can solve all of your problems and give you things that you’ve only dreamed of. It can give you a different life. OK, they get there, they find this life…and maybe…no…so they’ve achieved their dreams for the most part…they are on their way. But, it’s all an illusion. Why? It’s the old “be careful what you wish for…” scenario.

Just get the story down, and everything else will follow.

I’m talking about fulfilling your dreams. What am I trying to say? I went on this journey to find a manifestation of personal freedom. I had this idea that these guys were free. I wanted to explore that. I wanted to feel the freedom…show it. So I had this idea that these guys, these headhunters were free. It was a journey to define freedom. OK, I went to Japan, I started shooting these guys whom I thought were free. Why? Because they were running rampant around the city. They were slinging cash, they were buying toys. But what did I discover? They weren’t free. They were slaves to their jobs, they were slaves to the money and the toys. But Ken…Ken…he gave it all up.

Did I go searching for the formula for personal freedom? But there is not one definition, hence the mini-narratives. I went to the post-modern urban frontier to look for freedom. What did I find? This is what I found. Many, many stories.

Information Overload

Got a good response from Marc. He asked all the right questions. More of my response once I get it down.

Trying to take a break from the transcriptions over the weekend. Doing those everyday is a bit like information overload. It’s good to take a step back and process them a bit. Transcribing is only the first step. Then there’s choosing what to capture, capturing then cutting them up. After that, I’ve got to figure out how to fit them into the whole thing. I guess I’m just assembling the puzzle pieces. That’s the first part of editing. I shouldn’t worry too much about the big picture just yet.

The Blank Pages in My Dictionary

Was walking through the forest with Patrick yesterday and we got on to the idea of letters/postcards for the voice over...the narrator voice over. We talked about post cards during the 2nd trip to Tokyo, and I've had it in the back of my mind, but I brought this idea to the forefront. I think I'm being influenced by "The Oxford Book of Letters," which is one of the books we have with us. It's funny how your subconscious will give you some big hints sometimes. Of all the books in Joe's library, I chose that one when we visited him for my birthday. I don't know why I chose it, it just called out to me.

Anyway...I haven't figured out the "voice" yet. Of course, it's the storyteller's voice, but I haven't figured out who that character is. Yes, it's me, but it's a fictionalized me...oh, you know what I mean.

Who is she writing to? (To whom is she writing?) In Sans Soleil, it's the receiver who is describing the letters. That's a bit different from actually reading the letters. But maybe this idea of writing to different people. And those are all the different voices. I was toying with the idea of using very different voices with different accents...male, female, young old. Maybe they are people who have left Japan...people the storyteller once knew in Japan. Of course, this is all fiction...a literary device. You didn't think this was a documentary, did you? But, I think that's it. They were people the storyteller knew in Japan. And this becomes clear with the postcard content. Yes, postcards instead of letters. Postcards are fragmented, dreamy, filled with fanciful thoughts. At least my post cards are.

"We just made it for the very end of cherry blossom season...Spring, rebirth...delicate pink blossoms lasting for only two weeks or so. And we sit under them and drink sake and celebrate the ephemeral nature of life. Then the winds come and blow them away stirring up such a storm of pink that you can hardly see. The Christians are also celebrating and Cloudy Bongwater was there with us in tow. We went to an old-fashioned Baptist revival in the Aoyama University Hall...7-hours long...hundreds of people singing, praying and testifying that he has risen. Even J-people witnessed. I thought it was surreal and a little bit sad. Why had they given up the pink storm for this artifice? And, to the Christians, what would Jesus do? I think he'd be down at the Bochi drinking sake with the J-people."

Can you believe that pages 21 and 24 are blank in my pocket dictionary? And Karin has brought 3 big bags of home made buns. How can I be expected to work under these effing circumstances?

Talking to Angels

Spoke to my mom last night. She listened to my editing blues and offered support. She was distracted, though. Hurricane Katrina is headed straight for New Orleans. She’s worried about getting out. She’s worried about getting my sister out, about getting the old lady out. The old lady is bed-ridden and she’s talking to angels.

I’m not confident that we’ll get to first cut before we leave Sweden. I must accept that it takes as long as it takes. Patrick is cutting one, maybe two sequences a day. That’s fast considering all of the material he has to wade through. I will have to start prioritizing.

Call for Help

Hey Marc,

Thanks for sending me your email address. We came out to Sweden about three weeks ago to get away from the distractions of London. It's working, but the film is with us all the time as we are living out in a cottage in a village of 300 residents.

I think I might have told you that Tokyo Cowboys does not have a strong narrative. I was more interested in themes and characters, and I know I made the right decision. But, I am really struggling with the structure that would normally be dictated by the narrative.

I remember you telling me that the first thing to do was to cut the character arcs each on their own time line (it's a multi-character piece). That is how we started off, and we are about half way through with the first characteróthe one of which we shot the most footage.

While Patrick's cutting these arcs, I'm going through the interviews trying to pick out what I call "the cowboy poetry." I strongly believe that poetry is inherent in all language, and I hope that, having been a working poet these last 18 years, I can pull it out. So, I put it on a time-line and cut it up. Then I place that cowboy poetry over visuals of Tokyo. These visuals are not the standard Tokyo fare, but some strange little specific thing we shot

the statues of children with red beanie hats at shrines that evoke the memory of aborted fetuses

a homeless man trying to sweep up cigarette butts in the crowded youth districtóa million feet smack his broom, but he keeps on sweeping

sake barrels with kanji advertising on themóto the western eye, they are quite beautiful and exotic, but to a Japanese eye, they are just as mundane as a text only classified ad in the back of a magazine

I'm interested in making a mosaic...a collage...a multi-layered piece. But it seems really schizophrenic at the moment, and I'm beginning to doubt myself. Is this going to be some stupid experimental documentary that nobody but me will understand? That is not what I want to do. I do want to infuse it with the linguistic and visual poetry that I know is evident in what we shot. But, I want the film to appeal to a wide audience. Specifically, I want it to appeal to three major segments. 1) Those people who have some experience with Japan (either having lived there or some other connection), 2) Japanese people and 3) people who don't have any experience with Japan, but who would be attracted to the themes of freedom, the new frontier, constructing ones own reality, etc.

Having been formerly trained as a postmodernist in graduate school, there is a very strong post-modern element to the film as well. I'm not so interested in objective storytelling. Actually, I think there is no such thing as that. The story is always imprinted by the storyteller and her experience. It is filtered through that experience. I'm taking it a step further by consciously and openly constructing the story...perhaps even blurring some boundaries between fiction and "reality."

I'm also interested in the episodic, the fragmented and the small personal truths espoused by the cowboys. But, this is all theory, and I don't want to get too much talking about that lest I lose site of the film and just do some philosophical essay.

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to describe my headspace at the moment. I wanted to also ask you about the process that you went through. You see, right now, I feel like I can't see the whole. I can only see pieces. And I'm not sure how or if those pieces fit together. It really cuts into my self-confidence. But, if I know that's part of the process, then I can relax a bit.

I hope your projects are going well. If you feel so inclined, I'd like to hear how things are going for you as well...how things are progressing.

Talk to you soon,

Daneeta

Finding the Right Words

August 24

I'm getting frustrated over how slow things are going. I know they are not really going slowly, but that's how it feels. We're cutting about a sequence a day. That's pretty good. But still, we're only half way through Ken, and he's only the first Cowboy to cut. Maybe it's just because I really can't see the big picture yet. I have to remind myself that this is all part of the process. I have to go through this to get to the other side.

I can't see it yet. I can't see the finished film. I have these vague notions of what it is...poetic, collage, mosaic, layered, epistolary...
but those words give me nothing really. There's the basic character arc, the "cowboy poetry," the voice over, the Japanese bit, music, visual poetry, narrative. I just have to patient. I'm sure it will come to me.

We've set a rough schedule. I thought we were going to get to some kind of first cut during our time in Sweden, but it looks like it will just be an assembly of the character arcs and maybe intercut with some of the "cowboy poetry."

I went on with some bulls#%t to Fred's girlfriend the other drunken night about bringing the poetry back to the masses...me...as if I could "justify the ways of God to man" in some kind of visual epic poem called "The True Stories of the Tokyo Cowboys." Epic poem: "of or resembling a long poem in which great achievements of a hero are narrated in elevated style." That's not quite it. I told Patrick I was worried because nothing really happens in my film. I guess "Lost in Translation" was sort of like that. "It's thematic," he said...European, maybe. But, look, is this gonna fly? Will people want to watch a film where nothing really happens? Must be mindful about the audience. The thing to do is keep pushing forward. That's the only thing to do.

I'm just going to write this weekend...look through some footage and write...leave off the transcriptions for the weekend.

Episodic...epistolary...I keep trying to describe it with words, but maybe it's time to let the words go. It is what it is, and that's it. Collage: "a work of art made by pasting various materials on a surface." Tokyo is the surface...and the various materials? Cowboy poetry, cowboys narrative, music, storytelling voice over...mosaic: "a picture or decoration made of small usually colored inlaid pieces as of stone or glass."

These are all of the words that are getting close to describing what I want to do with this thing. Throw in a bit of post-modern theory, and we're well on our way...a little bit crazy. I need to start recognizing and celebrating the tiny Eureka's. They are there...I just need to recognize them.

Yesterday I experimented a bit with the cowboy poetry. I cut up an interview with Ken. He was talking about his 10-year plan...freedom, does money buy freedom, etc.? Then I laid it over this really bizarre footage we shot outside of Shinjuku station of a fortune-teller. Japanese viewers might find this a bit literal. Foreigners in Japan might have an "aha" moment. But I wonder about the rest. I'm speaking to essentially three groups. The response will be different depending on the cultural references.

Some Kind of Monster

I was thinking about Metallica: Some Kind of Monster. I was thinking that when I saw that film, I knew Metallica was big, but I had no idea that they had sold 90 million albums and that they played stadiums. So, it was interesting to be ignorant of that. I could see the characters in a different light. There is something that is nagging me about this and Tokyo Cowboys. I watched the footage we shot from the first trip where I interviewed Mark, Brendan and Todd about how they started up their company. These are the businessmen. And I know they are serious owners of a very successful company in Japan. But, I know them as something else. I know them on a more personal level. And that is what is interesting to me. Something is nagging me, but I can't quite get it yet.

Another thing that is pulling at me, and maybe it is the same thing. I was transcribing an interview during the first trip with Bryan Gould. He talks about getting effed over by his step brother. He talks about how there is a code of silence in his family about it and that he was expected not to break the code of silence. There is a lot of hurt and bitterness there against his family. Here is this strong loner type guy, yet he can hurt as well.

These are all bits and pieces of the puzzle. But I can't really figure out how to put them together yet. I'll just spread them out on the table and look at them. Right now, though, the most important thing is elimination and inclusion. What can I definitely eliminateÖwhat footage will never make the cut, what footage will maybe make the cut and what will definitely make the cut. That's what I'm trying to focus on at the moment.

Tokyo Cowboys August Update

Greetings from Rockhammer, Sweden. Population: 302 (your Tokyo Cowboys team being the 2). After using every mode of transportation (taxi, train, foot, bus, boat, car) and being on the road for 4 days in an attempt to keep traveling costs as low as possible, the equipment and the team arrived safely*. And, thank goodness, the computer and hard drives started up with no protest. Firstly, let me apologize that we can access email only sparingly as we have to dial up long-distance. So if you write to us (thanks to all of those who have already), it might take a few days to get back to you. Here's the news this month:

JUSFC Grant Status:

As mentioned in the last update, we have applied for the Japan US Friendship Commission Grant (www.jusfc.gov) with the help of our fiscal sponsor Projectile Arts (www.projectilearts.org). Thanks to all of you who helped us by writing recommendations and giving us advice on the proposal. The Commission has received our application and will make their decision on the 16th of September. We will hear from them shortly thereafter. If awarded, the grant it would afford us the opportunity to significantly supplement the postproduction and marketing budgets.

Sweden:

After the generous offer of accommodation from one of our long-standing Tokyo Cowboys patrons, we decided to come to Sweden in order to dedicate 100% of our attention and energy to editing Tokyo Cowboys. Thanks again KJ. The work so far has been fruitful. Patrick has cut 5 sequences from Ken's story and put together several fragments. As for me, I'm searching for the poetry in the language. Meticulously and obsessively reviewing the tapes, I'm piecing together the voice over track that will run throughout the film. Our plan is to get as far beyond a first cut as possible by the time we head back to London in late October.

Tokyo Cowboys Shares:

There are only 15 Tokyo Cowboys shares still available at £500 each. If you are interested in finding out more about the investment, please email me.

Again, thanks so much for your support. If you'd like to follow our progress more closely, I direct you to our blog at www.tokyocowboys.blogspot.com. You can also visit our website at www.tokyocowboys.com for more information about the project. And, you can always get in touch with me at daneeta@tokyocowboys.com. Send us good wishes, and if you are in Rockhammer, please drop by. We are the red house across from the little damn on the pond.

As always,

Hugs,

Daneeta and Patrick

*except for Daneeta's foot, which was injured in what will now be know as the "Tuna mayo incident of 2005"

Snapps and Crayfish

17 August

Drank snapps and ate crayfish with Adam, Fredrik and Anna last night. It's a summer tradition here. This morning I slid into the ice-cold lake to have at least one swim before the end of the summer. Actually, the summer is over here. I'm wearing jumpers and sweats. But the Swedes are still swimming in the lakes and in the little pool up the street from here. Why would Rockhammer have a pool? We are only 302 people. But it seems that half of them were at the pool today as I limped my way up to the recycle bins. That has become my daily exercise. It's as much as I can do before the foot starts to ache and won't let up. I haven't been able to sleep these past few nights because of it. Damn you tuna mayo, damn you!

We've been pouring over the pages of last week's Guardian that Karin brought back from her trip to England. That's the only news we have. It feels a bit weird...not being in touch with the world. I sort of felt that way when I first got to Japan. I was in the countryside. It was before the Internet (yes, there was such a time); it was before CNN had reached foreign shores. And, although there was the English-language Japan Times, it would arrive a day late to our little neck of the woods. If you have any old newspapers, send them along. Send us letters, post cards from the real world, care packages (sunflower seeds salted in the shell please, and brown Rotring ink cartridges as they are what I use for my daily journal, and magazines and whatever else you can think of). You can write to us care of Karin

Daneeta Loretta Saft/Patrick Jackson
c/o Karin Jackson
Rickardsbergs Gatan #10
S-70369
Orebro, Sweden

But, I digress. Nothing is taking shape yet. Keep cutting, but nothing is taking shape. I just have to patient...assemble the pieces. After that, we can concentrate on the whole. God help us.

Visual and Linguistic Poetry

Tape after tape after tape after tape. It's really a weird sensation. My head is confused. I'm watching hours and hours of footage from TC. Then I go outside and look at the forest (I can't walk in it yet because the foot is still effed up). I'm half in Sweden and half in Tokyo. My dreams don''t know where to go. I'm thinking about something Jason said yesterday, but it wasn't yesterday, it was 3 years ago. I just watched the tape yesterday. This is really trippy. It makes me think about time and memory and how they can get confused and how memory can allow you to time travel.

It's easy to lose track of the days here...easy to lose track of the time. Sometimes I don't notice the sun going down. Then I look up and it's midnight. Time travel again. I'm trying to piece together the Voice Over track. I'm searching for the poetry in their words. It's there...it's there in the words of everyone. You just have to find it. And then the audience will come to know the characters through the poetry of their language...the inherent poetry of their language...their dialogue...their internal monologue. Then there are the visuals...that has a certain poetry as well. I'm not talking about grammar, I'm talking about poetry. This kind of poetry, I'm much less familiar with. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I should listen to my intuition...my muse. I think Patrick is better at finding the visual poetry. And that's why I asked him to edit. He is a visual poet, I am a linguistic one.

We talked about mosaic today and how this film will be like a mosaic. I'm not exactly sure how that is going to look and sound when I am finished. We are laying all of the pieces out on the table and we are arranging them and re-arranging them. It's a painstaking process, and sometimes it is a bit maddening. But, it's the right thing to do. Layering as well...we are placing layer upon layer...the visuals, the voice over, the story, the overwhelming sound, the music...layering...endlessly.

The mosaic will create an experience, but what about the story? I have always struggled with the narrative...looking for the story behind the visual and linguistic poetry. I try to think in archetypes. Robert McKee says "the archetypal story unearths a universally human experience, then wraps itself inside a unique, cultural ñspecific expression.î And I know TC is filled with archetypal experience. I just have to figure it out.

The drama, the drama.

14 August

I forgot to mention that yesterday was a bit emotional. I went through the whole "I haven't accomplished anything in these 40 years" drama. I cried. I looked at my face, searching for new wrinkles...searching for age...or else, searching for that 16-year old girl who was filled with hope knowing that she would just get out of this place if it was the last thing she ever did. I was just feeling sorry for myself and had to slap myself around a bit and remind myself of a few things.

It's the money I think. I'm 40 and I have no money. I guess I have no debt either, which sort of makes me a non person...no money, no debt, no record of me anywhere. It's a bit weird. My family think I'm a hippy. Not so sure about that. I don't like the term struggling artist...free agent maybe...freedom's just another word for...

I reckon if we can get the JUSFC grant, Robert's gig in Thailand, our deposit back from the flat and a bit of promised cash from one of our patrons, we might just be able to finish this film and make it through half of next year. Now that would be a string of miracles indeed.

It's My Birthday

13 August

This is the 4th birthday I'm spending with Tokyo Cowboys. I am 40 today. I'm not really sure how to feel. I guess I feel like just only Daneeta. TC will be my first feature film, and I will finish it in my 40th year. You don't hear about filmmakers like me. You only hear about filmmakers who pick up a super 8 camera at aged 4, make their first feature at 6, then go to Hollywood to make it big and end up in rehab by 10. But surely, there must be filmmakers who started later...where are all of the late bloomers?

I feel filled with stories...fat with them...dare I saw pregnant with them. There are so many of them that I want to get out before I die. That's how I know that I will live well into my 90s. There are just too many stories.

It's good here. Rockhammer is good. No London distractions of trying to figure out how we're gonna pay this bill or the rent. No guilt over not being able to spend enough time on TC because we're working double shifts. The double shifts are spent on TC now. And that is good.

The Trip so Far

Start packing on Tuesday. Load up the van then go for a sandwich. So stressed about the move, etc. that I grab the wrong sandwich--tuna mayo. I hate mayo. Kick the wall, severely bruise my foot and can't walk. Patrick is livid. Call Robert and cry on the phone. He arrives in 30 minutes with frappichinos. Finish packing, but can't use the foot so crawl around on the floor to pack things up. Knees get bruised up. Go to the hospital for X-Rays. Foot isn't broken, but have to walk on crutches for about two weeks.

Clean the flat, do all of the last minute things, and stuff everything else into 9 bags. Spend the last night in the flat. Taxi to Kings Cross station, 3 hour train to Newcastle, 30 minute bus ride to the port of New Castle. Four big, heavy bags in toe including desktop computer, three heavy hard drives, 500 mini-DV tapes and what we need to live for the next three months.



24 hours on the boat to Gothenberg where we meet Patrick's mom to hand off most of the luggage. 5 hour train ride to Copenhagen to meet Patrick's sister (Ingrid) and her boyfriend, Rune. We take a Taxi, they take the bikes. Taxi driver drops us off at the wrong address. No credit on the phone to call Ingrid, so walk/limp 10 minutes to a pay phone. Don't have Ingrid's number, so try to call Patrick's mom in Sweden. Can't make international collect calls on the pay phone.

Walk/limp another 20 minutes to a hotel where I beg the concierge to let us call Sweden on his house phone. He lets us. Patrick's mom doesn't pick up. Try to call information to get Ingrid's number. Nothing. The concierge is astounded that we have neither Ingrid's number nor her address. "And, she's your sister?" he asks incredulously. We decide to go back to the station. Walk another 10 minutes to the station. 10 minutes later Rune finds us. We finally make it back to the flat where Patrick's sister has been hysterical over what could have happened to us.

I just want to start editing. But, we've got another few days before we can get set up. My foot hurts, it's purple and swollen. I want to make sure the computer is OK, that the hard drives are OK. I want to dig in.