“Why do we always have to watch these scary movies?” you ask. I can only answer that they soothe me.
Horror movies take real horrors and make them fathomable. Maybe that is what films do in general. They transform matters into signals of light. They throw the world onto a wall.
And if you move in front of the film projector and, just as if it were an accident, some images are thrown onto your skin, you can feel that they weigh nothing. The horrors may still haunt you, but they have been framed.
I know better, of course. But the screen does not.
This is where I learned to run.
And this is where I left.
But did I ever, really?
“Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”
(And I still haven’t named the imaginary cat, or unpacked those boxes.)
the people, the shadows, the lights, the shadows of people. thrown onto walls. walls to the floors to the ceilings to the floors. sofas, chairs, tables. every body pretty, young, skinny. someone somewhere is happening. smiling, laughing, leaving, clapping of hands. desires on a chart table. minimal house from above, twenty minute guitar solos inside, veins as strings, no strings attached, bodies decoupled. surprise me.
and i wonder who else here has got a broken record.
As I walk home, I take the phone out of my bag. I scroll through the contacts. You are five months dead. I still haven’t deleted your number. In situations like these, I used to call you. You were always home on Saturday night. You’d talk me through. Either without saying a lot or by telling me a story or by simply describing the tree in front of your living room window. And on most occasions a space opened up like a bodily sensation, like when you can’t breathe and you take a couple of hits from the inhaler and you finally get your lungs back.(more...)