Chateaux chez moi

Paris is extremely cold now. It reminds me of Minnesota, except that the
woman here continue to wear high heeled boots and little fur wraps, quite
dissimilar to the down parkas and moon-boots of my youth.

I am sitting on a train, returning from a night in "the chateaux" where a
family friend lives. Literally, the real deal, with endless rooms, entire
guest houses, big lion statues, electronic gates, and pink marble floors.
The evening was hilariously aristocratic, complete with much talk of the
problem of finding good workers. While it was ridiculously nice it also
immediately made me long for my 18 square meters in central Paris. I think
I'd always rather live in some tiny place with second hand furniture in the
heart of a city than a massive place in the country. Of course, the
chateaux made me think of all the movies that could be made there, about
little princesses and crusty rich hermits and dukes and duchesses falling in
love.

In movie news, I have finished a treatment for a feature I'd like to write
this year and finally translated my script into french and showed it around.
I plan to begin the casting search soon. Then it's location, crew, money,
money, money, equipment, etcetera. The thing that I've finally learned is
by the time you shoot the movie, as much as you've accomplished, you're not
even halfway done. Postproduction and distribution is the hardest part,
almost something you have the least control of.v

Visiting little monkeys:


Pretty metro or possible movie site: