http://www.timboucher.com/journal/2008/05/09/hobo-film-festival-baltimore/ public domain playground. friendly entities welcome. Sun, 22 Nov 2009 07:17:43 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.7 hourly 1 http://www.timboucher.com/journal/2008/05/09/hobo-film-festival-baltimore/comment-page-1/#comment-105737 Le Bonnet Rouge - [tmbchr]â„¢ Mon, 12 May 2008 17:36:03 +0000 http://www.timboucher.com/journal/2008/05/09/hobo-film-festival-baltimore/#comment-105737 [...] After that, I was in the kitchen/table area still and a strange man with a funny red hat started talking to me. I was basically asking him what I should do next (the dream sequence having been prompted somehow by my debut performance in the park getting cancelled that morning due to rain), and then he made a weird gesture, putting his arms up, crossed in front of his face. His cuffs were bright red like his hat and only his eyes were visible in the gap, sparkling out. Suddenly, I recognized him: “I saw you at the gas station,” I said to him. He smiled and said that the only thing I could do was to practice non-attachment. Oh, he also mentioned having learned a song or story or something from a hobo on a train (I had just been to the Hobo Film Festival a couple nights before at an oddly immaculate punk house - cute young girls sipped malt liquor to sad videos of old drunk men with lost souls riding the rails deeper into oblivion). [...] [...] After that, I was in the kitchen/table area still and a strange man with a funny red hat started talking to me. I was basically asking him what I should do next (the dream sequence having been prompted somehow by my debut performance in the park getting cancelled that morning due to rain), and then he made a weird gesture, putting his arms up, crossed in front of his face. His cuffs were bright red like his hat and only his eyes were visible in the gap, sparkling out. Suddenly, I recognized him: “I saw you at the gas station,” I said to him. He smiled and said that the only thing I could do was to practice non-attachment. Oh, he also mentioned having learned a song or story or something from a hobo on a train (I had just been to the Hobo Film Festival a couple nights before at an oddly immaculate punk house - cute young girls sipped malt liquor to sad videos of old drunk men with lost souls riding the rails deeper into oblivion). [...]

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