Dylan Phipps

Walking down hill, there was a glacier here.  Planting things, trees.

Will we survive to live, will we live to sit in the shade.

Do you believe you can outrun a bull.  Are you faster in the mud.

Need to leave and unplug for a week, I am considering staying with family in Tennessee for a while.
The issue is with the pandemic and trying to explain why I am there. Ma and Pa through back window, one sitting
one standing, curtains around them, camera in reflection of window, me in edge of frame with mask out of focus.
Predisposition to magical thinking: if I keep thinking about something it will happen,
counteracting the bad thoughts with a repeated prayer. You just have to wait. All of this waiting.
I think they might throw me in jail for speeding. Storytelling on camera, I can’t stomach anything too dramatic these days.
A source of guilt. I go around making, just for the sake of it, because one time someone told me I was good at it.
Ask Ma to tell a story about her mom or dad, ask Pa to tell a story about his mom or dad. Tell of your most vivid.
Do research on Biblical symbolism, enact the plagues somehow.  Talk about the progress we’ve made this semester,
about the idea of making a film down South, either the video of Mike talking about Eddie to go along with the billboard or something else. 
Appearance of wealth. I cannot change the space between two houses. Write a poem where every bad thing that has ever happened
to you happens in the same day.  Things get worse, I love my grandpa but I don’t know how to say it.