same shit — a short film made in the suburbs by thomas wilson
this is purposefully an ode to childhood, but also a nod towards my mother and i’s recent antics. its a shame how she seems to wiggle her way into every facet of my life. i can’t wait to move out.
going back to the formation of this film, me and sawyer met at the university of washington bookstore in mill creek (it doesn’t exist anymore due to high rent prices). during the creation of the storyboard, i channeled my personal story of the suburbs.
no one liked me. i was popular but “weird.” always never able to figure it out, but feeling like i was just being myself.
we imagined the big “character arc” of the suburbs was this. we used to ride our bikes around the golf course, feeling like we were stuck in our neighborhood, and then when we turned sixteen we finally got cars, and we were able to drive to seattle and explore places we had never stepped foot on. that was huge. and then, somewhere along the way, we decided to stop doing that, and to just get high and eat pizzas in the fred meyers parking lot. funny.
so, i used this character arc and made it a symbol: the bike was my creativity & that childhood i was holding onto. the car was the lack of creativity & the drugs.
fast forward to a few months later, the film’s finished, and i’m in paris.
it was one hundred degrees in july, the hottest paris had ever been. you had to drink like 5-6 hydroflasks full of water to not get brown piss and a dry mouth. in our broken french and menu-pointing, we had stopped by a little cafe to get some drinks and espresso.
colby asked me why i hadn’t released it yet. i said i was only holding onto it because of the bad energy i thought it possessed. i thought it wasn’t inherently entertaining.
i ended up holding onto it for a few more months after our conversation, and i finally realized i could market it instead as a “encapsulation of a feeling”, so i didn’t have to call it a “film.” films are usually entertaining and have emotional relief. there’s none of that here. it’s just 4 minutes of you holding your breath and never getting that relief.
i really appreciate everyone who supported my decision to do that.
i’m super anti-consumerism. i fucking hate how we have six different brands of jam and twelve different types of paper forks you can choose when you go to the grocery store. it’s the same for creative works. if my work doesn’t stand out and offer something new, i believe it has no validity and no purpose to exist in this world.
back in paris, we got up, left the cafe, and we found shade underneath a tree.
we sat in the grass, speaking about the romanticization of the suburbs.
we gave it all to kevin abstract and his album “american boyfriend: a suburban love story”
i mean, he’s talking about his story of being gay in suburban texas. there’s nothing to romanticize about that.
and during concepting / production of the film i called myself “the next kevin abstract.” i wanted to tell my story, and i did so. i guess i am a continuation of kevin abstract.
i was in my bedroom re-recording the audio and my mom started sawing into the walls with her twelve inch electric saw blade.
i airdropped the film to my phone, put on my shoes, and left the house.
i screamed and cried in my car, and i released the film on vimeo, then i went on a long ass tirade on instagram stories, shut my phone off, hung out with my girlfriend and got teriyaki.
i released it with the audio unfinished. i think of it as a digital scar that she gave me.
if you take a step backwards, the suburbs doesn’t really deserve any praise. its just a bunch of stucco-wall rich white people. you get shoved into this privilege machine that spits out college-degree having people ready for the workforce. all while you’re drifting in the water, half drowning, drifting towards somewhere, maybe.
that’s what this commercial’s about:
i hope all work every creative does is worth it someday. i hope we don’t have to settle into some shitty 9-5 and continue this cycle of suburbia.
i talk all this shit about “fuck college” and i make this whole fucking film about it yet still I’m going into college and half doing what i want to do and half not. i think from everything i have realized that the worst thing to do is stand on the side and half do anything. you need to pick something and stick with it.
cut your hair.
shave it all off, you pussy. do something exhilarating. go to portland at 2am.
i feel like i’m a loser because i don’t do those things. i just do what everyone else expects of me.
i hope my manifestations become reality.
i hope labor party and bernie sanders wins.