For a single semester, I was a film major at the U. We got to rent free VHS from the small but nicely-and-obscurely-stocked little gated movie stall. Somewhere, there's a woman named Francine-a woman who loaded the film for the 'pets or meat' scene in Michael Moore's Roger & Me--a woman who served me homemade peach moonshine 16 years ago in her messy apartment--the same apartment building in fact, that last week, a sex offender shot and killed himself in a police standoff--somewhere this woman Francine probably still has all her student films, one of which I star in, I am a character named Jade, and I sit in this little gated movie thing and swig Nyquil.
I am a terrible actress; in fact, I am no actress at all--as everyone, especially this very frustrated film student golden child who was directing Francine's graduate student film, named 'Basil' found out that night with the Nyquil. I had no idea I couldn't act until then; I otherwise never would have committed to it.
Anyway, once I checked out some film fest short film VHS, and there was one on there called Walls in the Woods, which I watched over and over. I loved it. Just reading the description of it here, I'm sure you'll see why:
...we see eggbeaters flying in space, furniture creaking through the woods like a flying ship, and tools enlarged in his bedroom next to the donut shop which he dreads...
Although I can't find it online, I found out the filmmaker's name (Sal Giammona) and this is another of his. It aptly embodies and expresses the Platonic Form of Roadslapped.