Two independent ideas are keeping me awake. It is 0200 and I have to rise at 0430 to prep for our Wednesday morning Super Eight ritual at the club. I should be having a deeply erotic dream or, failing that, relax every sore muscle in my poor beat up bag of bones. But I am on the stationary bike of creative thought and the wheels are turning fast.
The first idea, concept, challenge is trying to remember the name of the counterpart movie, thematically, to Braking Away, the one with Kevin Costner. I roll through the process of free association trying to latch onto a clue, I just need one word….gears, wheels, peloton, speed, race…but nothing is functioning as required. In response I shift gears to idea, concept, challenge number two. This is the fun one as it is actually creating something out of nothing, meaning I cannot lose. What will be the end result of this nocturnal due diligence will become the product, and since it is a poster to advertise the movie, it needs as much up front creative mojo as I can manage, regardless of the time of day.
I see Rod Serling the narrator staring straight-faced, Dutch right, in the poster. I see the starry, starry sky behind him and the door, shamelessly ripped from Aldus Huxley, in unmistakable significance to entering another dimension. You remember the opening.
“You are entering a dimension of time and space. But also a dimension of imagination….’ You know the one.
I sort through the possibilities, color, font, copy, media and message. Like a scene opening with a radically out of focus shot and moving into crisp focus, the idea, in its entirety, its completed, its stunning final form slowly sharpens in my mind. I see it!
I think I see it.
I wonder if I should use the note pad and mechanical pencil I keep at bedside to jot the rough sketch out so I don’t lose the vision but decide instead that I have it upstairs and sleep is what is needed now more than a graphic redundancy of concept. I got it.
Sleep not deep, I use the total relaxation technique and begin to feel that delightful sensation of calm. Like floating on a cloud. My tired calves, quads and hamstrings are tighter than cello strings and given the opportunity I would call room service for a massage regardless of the price. But the technique never fails and this is no exception. I feel good.
As the alarm sounds.
Class, the Super Eights, are always a test of will. Hard, serious efforts, maximum output, too little recovery time. Immediately afterwards I am off to lift with Junior. We do 30 minutes of core, 30 pound bells and finish with 40 reps on the bench. Down, dirty, in and out. I am amazed at his consistent dedication and work ethic especially as we do this before he gets on the bus to go to school.
Back home I scan the on-line news for immediate reactions to yesterday’s big wins for the good guys in blue hats and settle into the routine. I am anxious to get started on the poster and push the video. Despite the dearth of deep REM and the two quality high-intensity sessions, I feel rejuvenated, ready to go.
American Flyers.
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