ART THIS THING ON?
Nov. 26th, 2006 02:21 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: December 1, 2000
Setting: Tadfield Manor - Basement Room
Status: Public - Death, Pollution, Anyone else who wants to tag
Summary: Death is a student of life. He is making a documentary. You will be interviewed. No one is safe. He tries to set up a base of operations. Pollution helps. And horsepersons + technology = not so much. At least not these horsepersons.
Death was rethinking his plan to use technology in the making of his documentary. Possibly he was out of his depth here.
But that film student he'd escorted to the hereafter last Tuesday had been quite adamnant that one couldn't possibly hope to produce a work of any worth without the best that technology had to offer. Thus the grim reaper had questioned at length and traumatized many a salesman and eventually come up with a good assortment of equipment.
Cables and electronics lay scattered about the floor. Over there was a laptop, still in the box. Closer was a video camera or what might have been a video camera if it were not in pieces. A couple chairs and a couch were arranged in a tentative order.
Unsurprisingly the theme of the room was black, skulls, hourglasses, and maybe, if you were lucky, some select shades of grey.
Death gave the electronics a look that could be construed as disapproving, picked up part of the disassembled camcorder and then glanced at Pollution askingly.
PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE STUCK TO A CLIPBOARD AND PEN.
Setting: Tadfield Manor - Basement Room
Status: Public - Death, Pollution, Anyone else who wants to tag
Summary: Death is a student of life. He is making a documentary. You will be interviewed. No one is safe. He tries to set up a base of operations. Pollution helps. And horsepersons + technology = not so much. At least not these horsepersons.
Death was rethinking his plan to use technology in the making of his documentary. Possibly he was out of his depth here.
But that film student he'd escorted to the hereafter last Tuesday had been quite adamnant that one couldn't possibly hope to produce a work of any worth without the best that technology had to offer. Thus the grim reaper had questioned at length and traumatized many a salesman and eventually come up with a good assortment of equipment.
Cables and electronics lay scattered about the floor. Over there was a laptop, still in the box. Closer was a video camera or what might have been a video camera if it were not in pieces. A couple chairs and a couch were arranged in a tentative order.
Unsurprisingly the theme of the room was black, skulls, hourglasses, and maybe, if you were lucky, some select shades of grey.
Death gave the electronics a look that could be construed as disapproving, picked up part of the disassembled camcorder and then glanced at Pollution askingly.
PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE STUCK TO A CLIPBOARD AND PEN.
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