Mesocafé Blog http://mesocafe.com/blog In making a feature, you experience four films: On the page, on set, in the edit and on screen with an audience Sun, 21 Feb 2016 23:08:40 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.4 en hourly 1 February 21st 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/21/february-21st-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/21/february-21st-2016/#comments Sun, 21 Feb 2016 23:08:40 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1467 February 21st 2016
Peeling away the cover, he took his time admiring the title page.
Next to him, a couple of teenagers were twitching in sync with the sounds their phones were emitting as they were running their thumbs across the screen.
The introduction page whetted his appetite for the first chapter.
The boys were now giggling at the image on the face of their phones.
“Shall I send it?”
“Yeh!”
And the handset released a bell tone.
He was halfway through the chapter when another group of boys shuffled in.
“That photo was sick!” They said, laughing.
With all these kids, and his old technology device for the exchange of knowledge, he felt his age; he closed the book and walked into the freezing winter air.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
Peeling away the cover, he took his time admiring the title page.
Next to him, a couple of teenagers were twitching in sync with the sounds their phones were emitting as they were running their thumbs across the screen.
The introduction page whetted his appetite for the first chapter.
The boys were now giggling at the image on the face of their phones.
“Shall I send it?”
“Yeh!”
And the handset released a bell tone.
He was halfway through the chapter when another group of boys shuffled in.
“That photo was sick!” They said, laughing.
With all these kids, and his old technology device for the exchange of knowledge, he felt his age; he closed the book and walked into the freezing winter air.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
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February 14th 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/15/february-14th-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/15/february-14th-2016/#comments Mon, 15 Feb 2016 00:53:36 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1463 Determined to avoid the commercial face of Valentine’s Day, he was relieved to be invited to a friend’s for dinner.
Going past the florist, he couldn’t resist waiting for the gust of wind to run through its momentum, so the price tag of a bunch of roses stopped fluttering.
The digit was unsuprisingly eye-watering.
In the lift, he watched as the perfectly manicured index finger pressed the floor above his destination.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror being too obvious, he stole a glance at the polished aluminium edge of the door.
Her dark brown eyes caught him in the act; she smiled.
As he was about to leave, he held her gaze.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she wished him, as the doors closed.
Peace and love,
Ja’far

Determined ¬†to avoid the commercial face of Valentine’s Day, he was relieved to be invited to a friend’s for dinner.

Going past the florist, he couldn’t resist waiting for the gust of wind to run through its momentum, so the price tag of a bunch of roses stopped fluttering.

The digit was unsuprisingly eye-watering.

In the lift, he watched as the perfectly manicured index finger pressed the floor above his destination.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror being too obvious, he stole a glance at the polished aluminium edge of the door.

Her dark brown eyes caught him in the act; she smiled.

As he was about to leave, he held her gaze.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she wished him, as the doors closed.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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February 7th 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/08/february-7th-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/02/08/february-7th-2016/#comments Mon, 08 Feb 2016 22:42:34 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1460 Sorry, how to go to Oxford Street?” The polite and firm voice asked the middle-aged couple at the traffic light.
“Sorry, I don’t know,” explained the woman.
A chap carrying a clearly heavy camera, with a windshield-covered mic, stopped to help.
“Where are you trying to go to?”
“Yes, it’s a bit of a long walk… You need to head through Leicester Square, and then Regents Street.”
Looking at the map, the woman wasn’t phased by what appeared to be a great journey on foot.
“Where is Charing Cross Road?” She asked patiently.
“This is it,” he replied, in a moment of recognition.
“Where is Oxford Street?” She said, politely hiding her “aha” moment.
“Well, it’s just through to the end of this road,” he said, sheepishly.
“Thank you!”
Meanwhile, the person whom the filmmaker was meant to be interviewing, came back.
“I am so sorry!”
Peace and love,
Ja’far

“Sorry, how to go to Oxford Street?” The polite and firm voice asked the middle-aged couple at the traffic light.

“Sorry, I don’t know,” explained the woman.

A chap carrying a clearly heavy camera, with a windshield-covered mic, stopped to help.

“Where are you trying to go to?”

“Yes, it’s a bit of a long walk… You need to head through Leicester Square, and then Regents Street.”

Looking at the map, the woman wasn’t phased by what appeared to be a great journey on foot.

“Where is Charing Cross Road?” She asked patiently.

“This is it,” he replied, in a moment of recognition.

“Where is Oxford Street?” She said, politely hiding her “aha” moment.

“Well, it’s just through to the end of this road,” he said, sheepishly.

“Thank you!”

Meanwhile, the person whom the filmmaker was meant to be interviewing, came back.

“I am so sorry!”

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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January 24th 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/24/january-24th-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/24/january-24th-2016/#comments Sun, 24 Jan 2016 22:02:24 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1457 January 24th 2016
The screen lit up, and she swiped her index finger across it.
Her eyes smiled back to the message.
She typed something, and then called for the waiter.
“Could I have the breakfast smoothie, please,” she said with a Spanish accent.
Sipping his black coffee, he found himself unable to return to his tablet and the screenplay treatment; he wanted to know who the Spaniard was waiting for.
Half a smoothie later, the door opened, and a middle-aged chap rushed in.
He scanned the room, looking for someone; he went past her table once, before backtracking.
“Hello, I am really sorry to be late,” he said, as he took off his dark coat.
“It’s OK; I was just texting.”
Neither of them seemed to be focuses on what was being said; they both were studying one another. Perhaps, this was their first face to face meeting.
The arrival of the menus provided a welcome diversion from the intensity of the moment.
As the food arrived, and the young lady took a photo – “it’s for my mother, so she believes me when I tell her I don’t eat junk food!” – the man absentmindedly touched the dark coat.
Sensing his wandering mind, she toyed with her jet black hair.
From his table, he could feel the thoughts swirling randomly in the other man’s head.
“I think I am way too old for you,” was the only thing he could say.
Surprised, she attempted to defuse the situation. “I didn’t look at your age.”
“But we can be friends,” he added, as if reading from a prepared text.
She didn’t appear particularly hurt, or disappointed; she wished for the breakfast to end on good terms.
“If you have time, try the XYZ for coffee; I spend hours there, just reading and people-watching,” she said, almost consoling him for the end of something before it had even begun.
As they headed in opposite directions, he glanced towards their now empty table, and went back to the screenplay.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
January 24th 2016
The screen lit up, and she swiped her index finger across it.
Her eyes smiled back to the message.
She typed something, and then called for the waiter.
“Could I have the breakfast smoothie, please,” she said with a Spanish accent.
Sipping his black coffee, he found himself unable to return to his tablet and the screenplay treatment; he wanted to know who the Spaniard was waiting for.
Half a smoothie later, the door opened, and a middle-aged chap rushed in.
He scanned the room, looking for someone; he went past her table once, before backtracking.
“Hello, I am really sorry to be late,” he said, as he took off his dark coat.
“It’s OK; I was just texting.”
Neither of them seemed to be focuses on what was being said; they both were studying one another. Perhaps, this was their first face to face meeting.
The arrival of the menus provided a welcome diversion from the intensity of the moment.
As the food arrived, and the young lady took a photo – “it’s for my mother, so she believes me when I tell her I don’t eat junk food!” – the man absentmindedly touched the dark coat.
Sensing his wandering mind, she toyed with her jet black hair.
From his table, he could feel the thoughts swirling randomly in the other man’s head.
“I think I am way too old for you,” was the only thing he could say.
Surprised, she attempted to defuse the situation. “I didn’t look at your age.”
“But we can be friends,” he added, as if reading from a prepared text.
She didn’t appear particularly hurt, or disappointed; she wished for the breakfast to end on good terms.
“If you have time, try the XYZ for coffee; I spend hours there, just reading and people-watching,” she said, almost consoling him for the end of something before it had even begun.
As they headed in opposite directions, he glanced towards their now empty table, and went back to the screenplay.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
6

The screen lit up, and she swiped her index finger across it.

Her eyes smiled back to the message.

She typed something, and then called for the waiter.

“Could I have the breakfast smoothie, please,” she said with a Spanish accent.

Sipping his black coffee, he found himself unable to return to his tablet and the screenplay treatment; he wanted to know who the Spaniard was waiting for.

Half a smoothie later, the door opened, and a middle-aged chap rushed in.

He scanned the room, looking for someone; he went past her table once, before backtracking.

“Hello, I am really sorry to be late,” he said, as he took off his dark coat.

“It’s OK; I was just texting.”

Neither of them seemed to be focuses on what was being said; they both were studying one another. Perhaps, this was their first face to face meeting.

The arrival of the menus provided a welcome diversion from the intensity of the moment.

As the food arrived, and the young lady took a photo – “it’s for my mother, so she believes me when I tell her I don’t eat junk food!” – the man absentmindedly touched the dark coat.

Sensing his wandering mind, she toyed with her jet black hair.

From his table, he could feel the thoughts swirling randomly in the other man’s head.

“I think I am way too old for you,” was the only thing he could say.

Surprised, she attempted to defuse the situation. “I didn’t look at your age.”

“But we can be friends,” he added, as if reading from a prepared text.

She didn’t appear particularly hurt, or disappointed; she wished for the breakfast to end on good terms.

“If you have time, try the XYZ for coffee; I spend hours there, just reading and people-watching,” she said, almost consoling him for the end of something before it had even begun.

As they headed in opposite directions, he glanced towards their now empty table, and went back to the screenplay.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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January 17th 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/18/january-17th-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/18/january-17th-2016/#comments Mon, 18 Jan 2016 12:59:38 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1454 “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for the delay; we are waiting for the platform ahead to clear.”

The lady with the “Baby on board” pin scrolled through a page on her Electronic Book.

“Control tell me, the train in front of us is having some problems; the driver is trying to move it.”

The chap with the brown wool overcoat, took off his black leather gloves and tapped the screen of his phone.

Opposite the mother-to-be, two young women let out a sigh, almost in unison.

One of them opened her dark brown designer handbag and took out a small makeup pouch.

As if feeling left behind, the other woman presented her own set of small bottles and a tiny completely imploded brown tube.

The train let out a series of break release puffs cascading through its undercarriages.

With the foundation applied, one of the two ladies took an interest in one of her eyebrows. A light application of the final tiny dollop of cream from the tube, but the result wasn’t quite right.

A couple of fellow women passengers raised a brow when a pair of tweezers emerged out of the bag.

He thought to himself, how long will it be before the boys join in these public transport makeup sessions; “the bags under my eyes would certainly benefit from some of the artistry of these ladies!”

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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January 10th 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/10/january-10th-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/10/january-10th-2016/#comments Sun, 10 Jan 2016 22:07:41 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1450 At the top of the escalators, he sidestepped rushing shoppers, carrying their crop of bargains from the January sale.

Taking in the building site that is Tottenham Court Road, he wondered how much of the old quarter will still be intact, once the big trucks and men in yellow hard hats are done with the place.

“Will the little side street of music instrument shops survive?”

The answer seemed to present itself in the row of shops between the large supermarket and the cinema. Gone were the old electronics shops where many a time he had admired the gleaming new camera introduced by one manufacturer or another. In their place, were brand new restaurants and furniture stores.

“At least the place where I bought that bit of my professional kit is still there,” he thought in solace.

On the way back to the station, he noticed the value clothing store that was now in place of the huge music and videos shop that straddled both Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street.

He knew that no matter how much budget clothing he buys over the years, he would never spend as much time at this place as he used to spend at the same space when it was a temple for audiovisual enthusiasts.

Perhaps it wasn’t the change in the city that he was feeling, but the passing of the years in his own life.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

At the top of the escalators, he sidestepped rushing shoppers, carrying their crop of bargains from the January sale.
Taking in the building site that is Tottenham Court Road, he wondered how much of the old quarter will still be intact, once the big trucks and men in yellow hard hats are done with the place.
“Will the little side street of music instrument shops survive?”
The answer seemed to present itself in the row of shops between the large supermarket and the cinema. Gone were the old electronics shops where many a time he had admired the gleaming new camera introduced by one manufacturer or another. In their place, were brand new restaurants and furniture stores.
“At least the place where I bought that bit of my professional kit is still there,” he thought in solace.
On the way back to the station, he noticed the value clothing store that was now in place of the huge music and videos shop that straddled both Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street.
He knew that no matter how much budget clothing he buys over the years, he would never spend as much time at this place as he used to spend at the same space when it was a temple for audiovisual enthusiasts.
Perhaps it wasn’t the change in the city that he was feeling, but the passing of the years in his own life.
Peace and love,
Ja’farAt the top of the escalators, he sidestepped rushing shoppers, carrying their crop of bargains from the January sale.
Taking in the building site that is Tottenham Court Road, he wondered how much of the old quarter will still be intact, once the big trucks and men in yellow hard hats are done with the place.
“Will the little side street of music instrument shops survive?”
The answer seemed to present itself in the row of shops between the large supermarket and the cinema. Gone were the old electronics shops where many a time he had admired the gleaming new camera introduced by one manufacturer or another. In their place, were brand new restaurants and furniture stores.
“At least the place where I bought that bit of my professional kit is still there,” he thought in solace.
On the way back to the station, he noticed the value clothing store that was now in place of the huge music and videos shop that straddled both Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street.
He knew that no matter how much budget clothing he buys over the years, he would never spend as much time at this place as he used to spend at the same space when it was a temple for audiovisual enthusiasts.
Perhaps it wasn’t the change in the city that he was feeling, but the passing of the years in his own life.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
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January 3rd 2016 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/03/january-3rd-2016/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2016/01/03/january-3rd-2016/#comments Sun, 03 Jan 2016 23:46:44 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1445 After a whole year of short stories, inspired by my daily ecounters, I am momentarily back for a quick update.

Ever since my return from Cannes 2015, I have been working on a couple of new documentary projects.

The first of these has been in intermittent production since 2007. Over last summer, I began to work on the edit; there certainly is a story there. Hopefully, I will have a rough cut by the autumn.

The second factual project is one that I have been developing on paper for a few years. This past November, I began what I imagine to be a narrative that will unfold at a majstic pace; I am in no rush.

There are also a couple of screenplays that I am developing – who isn’t!

For the remainder of this new year, I will don my short-storytelling hat, letting the breeze touch my hair every now and then.

Wishing our world a peaceful and kindly year.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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December 13th 2015 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/23/december-13th-2015/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/23/december-13th-2015/#comments Wed, 23 Dec 2015 00:43:17 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1442 “This is my 17th week,” he confides to the steering wheel, as he taps a button on a smart phone hanging from the dashboard.

His kindly features betray a wish to be home at this late hour, rather than ferry a Middle Eastern looking chap across the Thames.

“I try to get home in time for dinner with the kids, but I can’t do it all the time,” now talking to the windshield covered with small droplets, almost trying to convince them.

“If I make XYZ in fares by 11AM, then the day will be good; ‘I’ll be home for dinner, tonight!’” He smiles to himself at the goals he sets himself to get through the day.

“When I return, my little son won’t let me even take my jacket off; ‘father, how do I get my playstation to do this?’, and I start laughing as if I have never laughed before.”

The lights turned green.

“My wife asks, ‘what are you laughing about?’, and I tell her, ‘it’s this boy; how quickly he’s grown.’”

When the car comes to a halt, and the man taps the phone again, the passenger feels sad; he can’t continue to listen to the genteel soul in the front.

Peace and love,

Ja’far

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December 6th 2015 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/06/december-6th-2015/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/06/december-6th-2015/#comments Sun, 06 Dec 2015 14:46:17 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1438 Despite an abundance of space in the meeting rooms, the canteen, the corridors, the most private place he could find in his lunch hour was on a street corner.
Office workers went past towards the nearby supermarket, as he hooked his hands-free mic to the mobile.
“Would the camera interact fully with the lens, if we use an adapter?” he found his hand drawing a line between a phantom camera and glass.
“Not sure if I need a shoulder harness; I feel it cumbersome,” he declared, as men and women in formal attire walked past, carrying in their arms, and against their chests, ready-made meals and sandwiches.
“The new plastic bag charge seems to be working,” he thought to himself.
“Yes, please; let’s pencil in those dates.”
He was buoyed with feelings of excitement and anxiety as he pressed the lift button to his floor.
“With the rent and insurance covered, how much more do I need for transport and catering?” he typed into his notebook.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
Despite an abundance of space in the meeting rooms, the canteen, the corridors, the most private place he could find in his lunch hour was on a street corner.
Office workers went past towards the nearby supermarket, as he hooked his hands-free mic to the mobile.
“Would the camera interact fully with the lens, if we use an adapter?” he found his hand drawing a line between a phantom camera and glass.
“Not sure if I need a shoulder harness; I feel it cumbersome,” he declared, as men and women in formal attire walked past, carrying in their arms, and against their chests, ready-made meals and sandwiches.
“The new plastic bag charge seems to be working,” he thought to himself.
“Yes, please; let’s pencil in those dates.”
He was buoyed with feelings of excitement and anxiety as he pressed the lift button to his floor.
“With the rent and insurance covered, how much more do I need for transport and catering?” he typed into his notebook.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
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November 29th 2015 http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/06/november-29th-2015/ http://mesocafe.com/blog/2015/12/06/november-29th-2015/#comments Sun, 06 Dec 2015 13:56:05 +0000 Administrator http://mesocafe.com/blog/?p=1435 November 29th 2015
“The next station is xyz,” the automated PA said in monotones.
The middle-aged lady picked her reusable supermarket plastic bag and moved uncertainly towards the door.
After inspecting the line map over the window frame, she appeared less hesitant.
As the train began to pull into the station, her uncertainty returned.
“Sorry, which is the way out?” she asked the young woman carrying a toddler with a pink hat.
“Over there,” she pointed to the door.
The lady smiled, and waved to the child, as she stepped off the train.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
“The next station is xyz,” the automated PA said in monotones.
The middle-aged lady picked her reusable supermarket plastic bag and moved uncertainly towards the door.
After inspecting the line map over the window frame, she appeared less hesitant.
As the train began to pull into the station, her uncertainty returned.
“Sorry, which is the way out?” she asked the young woman carrying a toddler with a pink hat.
“Over there,” she pointed to the door.
The lady smiled, and waved to the child, as she stepped off the train.
Peace and love,
Ja’far
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