#literally imagine the satisfaction and euphoria in having one place where you can purposely present yourself as gay

[clowndensation]

louis, lestat, and their single bed as a motif louis puts into his own story, but refuses to explore, is literally one of the sexiest parts of the show. it speaks volumes about a level of fulfillment and freedom that louis feels by being with lestat that he rarely explicitly comments on when he's relaying his story to daniel, which feels extremely relevant to his overall reluctance to examine the parts of his relationship with lestat that he really enjoyed.

because louis is a character who's hyper aware of how he presents himself. he's lived his entire life projecting a certain masculine, heteronormative image, and he's aware of how deviating from that presentation has implications that impact how people view him - from enjoying the opera, to the presentation of his nails. the fact that he moves in with lestat and neither of them ever put a second bed into any room in the house as a level of plausible deniability is so huge and oversight by so cautious a character, it can only be read as deliberate - especially when the conspicuous lack of a second bed is pointed out to them by both antoinette and a literal police officer. in an existence where you don't sleep in a bed, the bed becomes a symbolic object more so than a practical one. it's louis choosing to deliberately transgress against the societal expectations he lives out when he leaves his house, a bit of presentation that actually amplifies his truth as a gay man living with his partner, rather than masking or hiding himself, like he does for the outside world.

[mlluke-blog1]

I’ve got 359 problems but intention ain’t one.

     For the next twelve months, I will be using this platform as a veritable dumping ground for all things related to my progress through the Master’s Film Program. I will be posting work both directly and indirectly related to Film, but always related to me and my progress as a student, creator, and human entity. At the very core of who I am is a creature who needs to create. I need this release just as much as my muscles must release the lactic acid that builds up after a vigorous Sunday of cleaning house. If I cannot get my release, much like my muscles, I’ll be very cross and seek to punish whatever or whomever stood in my way in the most petty and needling way possible.      While I cannot say what I hope to learn other than in general how to make films, I leave the details of that to the Powers-That-Be, I can say that I hope to achieve whatever level I am meant to attain. Something I struggle with is knowing when to be aggressive and when to be consciously passive. I tend to be too controlling and domineering instead of paying attention to the natural rhythm and cycle. I am too wrapped up in what impact I want to inflict upon a situation instead of taking it all in first and I subsequently miss most of the information because I jump the gun. A very real test of my progress is going to be patience and respect of the process. I will know if I have passed or failed this test once I come out the other side of this year of tutelage and, when looking back at this very post, can sense the wisdom of the answers resonate within me.      A key part of this is going to be, in as realistic a way as possible, knowing where I stand at this present moment in April of 2017. To do this I am going to include my original Statement of Purpose/Letter of Intent submitted to Full Sail in February of 2017 and it is as follows.

My journey as a storyteller started as my journey as a person… well, more like as a miserable teenager, but all teenagers are filled with angst, bouts of depression and euphoria, and a general disdain for sunlight. Funny thing, I never really grew out of that. Rather, my issues became more pronounced and a single question lingered over my head as a raincloud, much like that of Joe Btfsplk in Li’l Abner, “Why am I so miserable?” So, I did what any self-respecting, willful creature does: I went to therapy. Since I am an all or nothing sort of creature to boot, therapy wasn't enough and I got a degree in psychology and social work.

A big part of who I am is somebody that isn't afraid to take risks, sacrifice the immediate for the future, and give my all under the labor of an idea, or ideal. I took myself as a person, from the fundamentals of my spiritual beliefs, to things as shallow as whether or not I actually like the color pink, and demolished myself. I razed the entire architectural structure that, up until that point, was Meredith Lindsey Luke, and cleared the ground, which I then tilled.

It was time to rebuild. Completely.

I investigated everything. I dove down the most absurd rabbit holes in the vein of actually figuring out who I am as a person. No matter the thought, stance, opinion, or perspective, I trashed everything and asked myself honestly, "What do I actually think or feel about this?" I found out numerous things about myself I never would have known otherwise. I actually DO like the color pink, but grey is my favorite. I am in love with sushi and most Asian food, and Asian culture in general is fascinating. Horror is my favorite genre. I love a tantalizing social mind game. I'm super glad I didn't get my ears pierced. And I absolutely love to curse as often and as colorfully as possible. Well, this is all just fabulous. I'm sure the universe is very happy for me. But what does this have to do with being a storyteller? It's simple, really. Once I finally figured out who Meredith actually was, I could create anything beyond her. It's like sorting through a house filled with stuff; you don't know until you go through it all that there are actually some super interesting pieces amongst the rubble and rubbish. After getting rid of the noise of fear, doubt, and insecurity, and replacing it with peace, confidence, and perspective, the floor opened up and a stage manifested. I could hear and see the creative part of me that was getting smothered by all the other junk. Now, I finally have free reign to go anywhere my creative beast wants to drag me.

I wasn't afraid of the cold honest truth. I asked myself the hard questions and made myself go through the pain, awkwardness, and fear of being critical of every position I could take. I do not fear failure. I learn from every mistake. Doing so has given me the platform on which to stand and be ready to take on the same risks as a creator. Criticism is my greatest ally, whether it comes from within or without.

This is just the bee’s knees and all, but what does this gobbledygook have to do with being a storyteller? Well, see, one of the most interesting bits about having done all that work on myself, clearing out the cobwebs and such, is that a funny little change came over me. It is said most people think in either words or pictures. Others think in terms of colors, music, or board games (though the latter sort are the types you do NOT want to play monopoly with, just a word of warning). I, however, fundamentally think in cinematic. Now what in odd bodkins does that mean? Basically, when I write a story, poem, or other tiddly-bit, I do so in a way of a visual story. I watch it all play out in my mind’s eye, and I think of it in every aspect of a moving picture, including composition, lighting, color, mood, speed, action, and you get what I’m on about. Of course, I don’t literally have every single detail on that mental film; I do both consciously and subconsciously try to leave some wiggle room for tweaking after the fact, but for the most part, everything has been visually decided.

This new quirk, as unconventional as it may be, has come into service for another special something that I have discovered about myself. Now that I am no longer acting like an angry teenager stuck in the Fidelity phase according to Erikson, creating has become an integral part of my life. I liken it to breathing; I can get away without it for a little while if I must, but after a certain point of continuing not to do so, it becomes fatal. Obviously I won’t keel over from my comfy chair and physically die from being unable to be creative, but a certain part of me definitely begins to shrivel and threatens to let out a death rattle. Avoiding that ergle-gurgle at all possible costs I have found an infinite, well not actually infinite but a stonking great many, number of ways to keep the creative creature within me happy and productive. Whether it be writing something old, new, odd, or amusing, tinkering on my computer, watching classic movies or shows (I have a well-documented soft spot for anything Hitchcock or classic horror), or helping someone else with any sort of dilemma (self-created or otherwise), I feel happy, fulfilled, and energized. In the next great creative mystery or problem that comes my way, be it one of my own creation or someone else’s foible, I am happily along for the journey. Not everyone will share my penchant for narrative, but everyone wants to be their best at something. Life doesn’t always, or usually, make pursuit of that ideal easy. There are countless cracks, crashes, and herds of unconscious cattle chewing the cud inconveniently placed on the path to self-improvement. Everyone needs help sometimes. The help I received during my fledgling pursuit and am still graced with in the most unconventional ways even now, forever helped shape me into the person I am today and the person I shall be tomorrow. I want to be the lighthouse for someone trapped in the darkness on the roughest seas and then show them how to be their own beacon of light. I want to fulfill whatever void within the process they require regardless of how unglamorous, tedious, or unfun it may be. Every position is important and purposeful. Everything is possible with patience, perspective, work, and a little bit of imagination and a lot of pluck.

Though this pursuit of passion takes the form of my raison d'être, I understand that great dedication and sacrifice, manifesting in the form of time away from other pleasures, such as family, friends, hobbies, leisure and so on, will absolutely be at the forefront of my consciousness. This pursuit of excellence comes at an immense cost, the currency of which is time, focus, and effort. The days shall be long, the work intense, the frustration palpable, and the longing for a break absolutely soul-crushing. But the reward for these immense sacrifices and dedication will come in the form of a project completed and sent out into the nether to fulfill its purpose. The reward is seeing all the time, energy, effort, and sacrifice come to fruition, be it one’s own baby, or someone else’s opus. I imagine it is like casting a child out into the world to fulfill their destiny, letting go and allowing them to follow their own path, and watching with pride, satisfaction, and serenity knowing that you have played your part. While merely a cog within the machine, it takes every mechanism in complete subservience to the greater picture to produce the magic of film. (Luke, 2017)

Luke, Meredith L., (February, 2017). Letter of Intent. Retrieved from author’s archives.

[thkmadame]

Seriously love this!

louis, lestat, and their single bed as a motif louis puts into his own story, but refuses to explore, is literally one of the sexiest parts of the show. it speaks volumes about a level of fulfillment and freedom that louis feels by being with lestat that he rarely explicitly comments on when he's relaying his story to daniel, which feels extremely relevant to his overall reluctance to examine the parts of his relationship with lestat that he really enjoyed.

because louis is a character who's hyper aware of how he presents himself. he's lived his entire life projecting a certain masculine, heteronormative image, and he's aware of how deviating from that presentation has implications that impact how people view him - from enjoying the opera, to the presentation of his nails. the fact that he moves in with lestat and neither of them ever put a second bed into any room in the house as a level of plausible deniability is so huge and oversight by so cautious a character, it can only be read as deliberate - especially when the conspicuous lack of a second bed is pointed out to them by both antoinette and a literal police officer. in an existence where you don't sleep in a bed, the bed becomes a symbolic object more so than a practical one. it's louis choosing to deliberately transgress against the societal expectations he lives out when he leaves his house, a bit of presentation that actually amplifies his truth as a gay man living with his partner, rather than masking or hiding himself, like he does for the outside world.

[valarinde]

#literally imagine the satisfaction and euphoria in having one place where you can purposely present yourself as gay#where you can look at your own personal space and go 'it looks like a gay man lives here' and feel safe and accepted in that#i feel similarly about the way lestat touches louis tbh#especially as viewed through claudia's diaries#there's an openness to the way louis and lestat behave around each other that their status (of being rich and being vampires)#grants them that louis hasn't really gotten the chance to explore before#and they still can't be blatant about their queerness obviously#but they get away with significantly more than louis has ever allowed himself in his human life#there is an incredible amount of relief and joy in having a partner who isn't ashamed to touch you#and you can see louis feel that#it's one of my favorite pieces of the narrative threaded through the entire story#rarely commented on but still blatant for how encompassing queer love can be (@louisdelac​)

louis, lestat, and their single bed as a motif louis puts into his own story, but refuses to explore, is literally one of the sexiest parts of the show. it speaks volumes about a level of fulfillment and freedom that louis feels by being with lestat that he rarely explicitly comments on when he's relaying his story to daniel, which feels extremely relevant to his overall reluctance to examine the parts of his relationship with lestat that he really enjoyed.

because louis is a character who's hyper aware of how he presents himself. he's lived his entire life projecting a certain masculine, heteronormative image, and he's aware of how deviating from that presentation has implications that impact how people view him - from enjoying the opera, to the presentation of his nails. the fact that he moves in with lestat and neither of them ever put a second bed into any room in the house as a level of plausible deniability is so huge and oversight by so cautious a character, it can only be read as deliberate - especially when the conspicuous lack of a second bed is pointed out to them by both antoinette and a literal police officer. in an existence where you don't sleep in a bed, the bed becomes a symbolic object more so than a practical one. it's louis choosing to deliberately transgress against the societal expectations he lives out when he leaves his house, a bit of presentation that actually amplifies his truth as a gay man living with his partner, rather than masking or hiding himself, like he does for the outside world.