Cartoons
Sometimes I doodle. It makes me happy.
Short Film
I always thought it’d be fun to drop a depressed clown into Dubai's absurd landscape. What started as a joke with a few friends over Shisha one night, turned into an ode to a city I came to love — not for the masks, brands and awkward egos – but for the family I found there. It’s story about connection, vulnerability and rebirth, and finding that feeling of “home” in each other.
Shot over a couple weekends in May, racing the heat with a tremendous student crew from S.A.E. Institute.
PRODUCTION: Keyframe Films
DIRECTOR/DP: Stefan Randjelovic
CD/AD: Breda Plavec
WRITER: Cindy Hammel
CAST: Deger Ozkan Cotelioglu, Mylène Gomera
Wanderlust - narrative excerpts
I travel between jobs to recover and stay fresh. Here’s some stream of consciousness tidbits from Instagram, and proof that flow (or possession) exists, and burnout can heal. I’m evolving this into a larger collection for a book of some sort.
Real question though - What is this stuff? Poetry? Short stories? Humor? Would love your take. DMs are open.
Humor
The family had gotten used to the ceilingquakes. Books had been tumbling off the shelves just about every day now. The light hanging over the kitchen table would sway violently. On Wednesday the living room ceiling collapsed completely and the family had to eat their way out from under the debris. For lack of any other explanation, they blamed their son’s bad behavior. It was God, punishing the family for raising him carelessly. After each quake he’d bravely endure their abuse and take the blame. The Earthworms would send him to bed without any dinner, never realizing it was just another soccer cleat.
CEILINGQUAKES
THE RASH
At first Anna thought it was a rash. It itched. It was red. She got a special pillow to sit on at work and insisted on eating in the kitchen standing up, which annoyed her husband Beau tremendously.
“You’re not that busy,” he said.
“Yes I am.”
“Will you just sit down and relax?”
“I don’t feel like sitting down. I’m restless.“
Beau thought she was avoiding him. He asked his friends for advice.
“She’s feeling neglected,” they said.
“Tell her she’s beautiful. Bring her flowers. Do the dishes.”
“You need to switch up the cologne,” they said.
“Yeah, that shit you wear smells like Grandpa.”
“Make like you’re dating again. Women love the romantic stuff. Make an effort. She’ll come around.”
He followed their advice, and it all went marginally well. She liked flowers. She did hate his cologne. It did in fact smelled like her Grandpa. But at the end of the day, she’d still hide in the walk-in closet, change into her flannel pajamas and refused to explain why.
The Aloe Vera, the Hydrocortisone cream, the Shea Butter, salt scrubs, mud treatments, oil baths, baking soda baths, clay masks and herbal salves were all fabulous, except they didn’t work. She went to the doctor.
The doctor rubbed his chin, and stared at Anna’s backside. He told her it was razor burn. But that was impossible. She never shaved her rump-cheeks. Who does that? He thought it might be an allergic reaction. He gave her some ointment and sent her on her way. He’d never seen anything like it.
The red itchiness went away as soon as the feathers appeared. On Friday afternoon Anna got home early and had the flat to herself. Beau arrived not long after. He caught her by the front door in front of the full-length mirror with her pants down, staring at her rump… bursting with new plumage. Anna stared at him wide eyed. She was afraid her husband would be repulsed, horrified. She certainly was. But instead he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
“What’s up, Chicken Butt?”
For the first time in his life, that dumbass question finally applied.
LOST MAIL
Lara had trouble receiving kisses. She could mail them out all right, but whenever someone tried to send her a kiss, it would get lost in the post. One smooch ended up right back on the sender’s lips marked, Package Undeliverable. At other times, depending on how much tongue had been included in the shipping, the sender himself could get lost in transit.
Lara couldn’t figure out why the kisses weren’t making it to her lips. Stumped, and a little bit sad, she went to the dentist to see if her mouth was miss-marked or if there was some glitch with her dental code.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “This one time, the bloke who sent the kiss, he completely vanished too.”
“That’s terrible,” said the dentist.
And it was. Lara couldn’t just fly through good kissers like that. They were hard enough to come by. The dentist dumped his toolbox into her mouth and had a look around.
“Oh my. I see. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you,” he said. “You’ll need to see a specialist. Or if you can live with it, just warn people there’s some risk involved if they try to send you kisses direct.”
“What do you mean, risks?”
“Well you see…”
“I mean, I can understand kisses getting misplaced, or put on hold, detained even! But to just up and vanish? That’s ridiculous. Kissing isn’t supposed to be dangerous.”
“Lara my dear, they fall in.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s quite simple. Before a bloke sends you a kiss, kindly remind him to Mind the Gap.”