the analyst

a kitchen ..somewhat of a well ordered hovel ..a short spry young man fries tofu in a small pan on an ancient gas stove ..arranging the pieces into a quincunx after methodically turning them in exactly the same way ..a small television on a bench is silently showing cartoons ..the colour tint all wrong ..he is talking to himself ..as well as uttering directions into a full length mirror ..his suit is a little large for his small frame ..and a decade out of fashion ..he approaches the mirror peering disdainly over his wire frame glasses

” extreme close up ..whatcha got there honey! ..hhmmm ..did you write this? ..[aggressively] ..did you write this? ..huh ..huh! ..swishpan ..oh there’s a problem all right ..who do I think I am? ..huh ..well I do this for a living  ..fool  ..yeah  ..yeah  ..I did a ten week course sister ..cost me nine hundred bucks  ..yeah ..yeah ..do you know how much they pay me to do this shit?  ..huh ..seventy bucks a script ..shazam! ..and another one bites the dust! ..yeah baby ..from page to screen I can knock off three a day ..I am the gatekeeper kapiche ..matchcut ..from laptop to cowboyshot ..[quickdraws a yo-yo]   ..longshot”

[walking the dog as he moonwalks back to the stove] ..he carries the pan over to the table and loads the tofu next to the salad on his plate ..he spends quite some time arranging the food to his satisfaction ..then after taking his ADHD medication ..he commences to eat

[calmy] “..white space ..see ..white space ..you got too much goin’ on here ..look at this ..[holding up a napkin] ..there’s way too much text here ..look honey ..I got a short attention span ..all these words are makin me claustrophobic see  ..you’re defying the architechtonics of our template ..you’re pressin’ buttons I didn’t even know I had ..them studio execs ..they all got the same buttons as me ..get it ..thats how come I got this gig ..understand me ..and you understand them ..whats my gig? ..[evil laughter] ..whats my gig? ..martini shot!  ..contrazoom! ..[thousand yard stare] ..I’m a story analyst ..”

Holiday

Holiday

flying ..it only seems real when I’m sitting in the cockpit ..we’re in first class so I don’t really care ..getting it all down for posterity on my handycam ..oblivious to the cascade of conversations swirling around me
..our group has won a 10 day snowboarding holiday ..courtesy of some wacked out cable TV show ..I’m gettin’ used to the tripped out hand that life deals to people like me ever since I took over the Freak Outreach Center after ‘Louie the flame’ had his burnout ..I’m not a health professional or anything like that ..only have a diploma of applied paragnosis ..I do it for the laughs really -besides some patients are just too funny to cure ..our motto is ‘deviance is the new normal’ ..and to tell the truth I feel quite at home with these folks now ..we only use nicknames -given like a badge of honour if you somehow manage to fit in
..Golden ears is our resident ecouteurist -never been the same since that time he disguised himself as a tree to spy on some feral wiccans in the wild …some of them turned out to be dendrophiles ..on his left is Houdini ..yeah the one looking over his shoulder ..with a smile on his face ..can’t hold down a steady job or relationship ..just can’t commit ..-phygephilia ..that couple over there ..Heckle and Jeckle ..touchy and insensitive ..she’s often really crass and arrogant and sometimes he’s just a nasty bitch ..gender dysphoria ..over there is Cyrano ..he’s into erotographomania as well as erotomania ..the first thing he ever said to me was ‘don’t look at me ..I’m hideous’ ..the hottie by the window is Messalina ..one of a kind ..she’s into zelophilia as well as dacrophilia ..not to mention timophilia … on my left is Coochie Coo ..she has a thing for knismolagnia ..what can I say ..she’s lotsa fun and makes me laugh ..across the aisle over there is Manga ..yeah you guessed it ..oculophilia ..and beside him is the very mystical Madame Blavatsky ..she likes dreamin’ and …well …psycholagny actually ..on her left is Hollywood ..yeah -with the tinfoil beret ..the life of the party ..got a little thing goin’ on with castophrenia ..but we won’t hold that against him ..well thats it for now ..can’t really say too much on the fly like this ..besides one can’t afford to be too equivocal ’round these sorta folks ..

Glossary

castophrenia: belief that ones thoughts are being stolen

dacrophilia: arousal from crying

dendrophilia: arousal from trees or tree worship

ecouteurism: arousal from eavesdropping sexual activities

erotographomania: arousal from writing love letters or poems

erotomania: arousal from an uninterested person or stranger

gender dysphoria: behaviour matching the opposite sex

knismolagnia: sexual arousal or gratification from tickling or being tickled

oculophilia: arousal from eyes

paragnosis: skill in matters immune to scientific investigation

phygephilia: arousal from being a fugitive

psycholagny: ability to achieve orgasm without physical stimulus

timophilia: arousal from money or wealth

zelophilia: arousal from jealousy

©Gregory Andrews 2009

masked moon

In earlier posts I sported with my fondness for a simple quote from Shakespeare ..’no more..’ ..this line has such dramatic qualities of gravitas ..minimalism ..and if you like ..flippancy ..that it seems to me to be as old as theatre itself..Shakespeare used this line a lot ..in fact I once queried a Shakespeare database so as to ascertain how many times he used it ..to my surprise the search engine found 500 instances and wasn’t capable of compiling lists beyond that scale ..so as in some form of continuity I decided today to write yet another post on this timeless line ..

No More

wherewithal they should so wit the page
we dread their measures on our stage
sweetly read of cruellest honeys
sagely bread ..so spread and fed
owed on owned treasured moneys
sought and lost at fountainhead
found at cost by honours bed
so squandered all the flower said
unblossomed by errors of simple praxis
picked a part where the masked moon waxes

error message

…noooooo !

playhouse

Self portrait

where is the poet

where are his scripts

that man of ideas

of timeless quips

why won’t he join us

when we live for the word

to die for a story

we’ve never heard

grudge report

Is there anything funnier and more pathetic than those folk who bear grudges? For most of my life I was quite the slow learner with regards to this ubiquitous aspect of human nature..there was a time when I could not fathom what lay beneath a persons surface charm ..never sensing the animosity that bubbled therin like a truckload of sardines in the belly of a bitter or jealous whale ..as a writer I discovered this amongst a myriad of things that people can harbour or develop or be motivated by where they otherwise might find themselves without any sort of effective thrust ..I discovered that the high and the low ..the good and the bad ..the near and dear all have this facility ..and that a person may be able to fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat  ..whilst never being able to rid themselves of their cultivated hatreds ..historically this has proven to be a most useful aspect of human nature and is the key to understanding much of modern human affairs ..I wish I could say I am above it ..certainly once there was a time when I could ..a slow learner I may well have been ..not so now ..sure ..I could put this down to a writers need to personally experience every shallow depth of humanity ..tho’ I suspect there is more to it than that ..perhaps we have within ourselves a compulsion to balance extant needs with anything that lacks closure ..more than pride and honour go before this sort of fall ..so some Kantian loglines ‘n’stuff then

At the appointed time: Recto

Constantly trying to improve her own opinion of herself ..a humble woman learns to interact with a remnant of her next existence in order to become more competitive with the meaning of life ..she meets an angel who refuses material existence because he discovered he was created by God to create those things that God could not personally bear to

At the appointed time: Verso

Constantly trying to lower his own opinion of himself an arrogant man learns to interact with a remnant of his last existence in order to become more competitive with the senselessness of life ..he meets an angel who refuses material existence because he discovered he was created by God to destroy those things that God could not personally bear to

Invasion Day

After another mass stranding near Jellulabubnerarrabran ..angry reprasentatives of the Wirradweeb people call on state officials to take decisive action ..’they come here and take our fish ..now they think they own the beach’ ..tribal elders say they will now refer to the event as invasion day

Garuda

bless you Garuda
for you were ever my only true friend
no-else comes screaming after I go
no-one else knows what I know
thou art no desert lie
thou art no foreign sky
thou art feathered to rise above
the poison of these doves
and I loved nonsuch as I loved you
..so brutal …so true

never a tear

for those of us from here

hoodwinked

strung along a loophole
winking in the hood
unicorn at the hawser
dragon by the snout
humoured by gravity’s loft
drifting down the mountains
carved by lateral moraine
sliding through the valley
prancing past the clouds
a silverpoint of sky
drooling braided streams
…of meltwater moment
indulged by flowing dreams

the love pony

‘…what about that mystic… Elfincrest… why don’t we get him?’ ..’Elfinloft…maam …such as he styles himself’ ..the queen was viewing the latest intelligence reports ..a number of neighbouring states were covertly placing themselves on a war footing ..beyond that their wasn’t anything conclusive in the report ..’..I’m afraid we can no longer source his talents’ said the General..  ’why?’ ..asks the queen ..’..he disengaged over a year ago maam ..right after we rigged the election in the upper house’ ..’..can we win him over?’ she asks ..’..it’s unlikely maam ..he moved to the country ..a small city ..aspects of his reputation preceded him ..it is an insular community ..they are actually quite backward and well ..kind of vile’ ..’..inbreds eh?’ she offers ‘..most likely maam  ..though they seem religious ..it is in fact simply the basis for a petty and corrupt network of nepotism and cronyism that threads its weave all the way through to the press and parliament  ..whom he also refuses to counsel ..in short maam ..he counsels no-one and due to the nature of his current circumstances has never been further away from doing so’ ..there were other mystics  ..they just weren’t psychic as well ..there were other psychics but none that could see the future   ..Elfinloft was a recluse whom had been quietly studying numerous things for around 32 years  ..the queen has that ‘Ive got an idea’ look about her as she asks…
..’what if we got him a pony?…..’    

in the merry month of …meh

…cruelly infiltrated
surreptitiously slipped silken..
positioned precisely
..one alone
waiting
inscrutable master of a soft tower
50  futons high
apple of a ninja’s eye
eh heh heh heh
in the merry month of …meh
even in her dreams
scheming with whispers of night
sleeping smugly
…snugly
in deep cover of quiet
embedded in burdens soft increase
no stranger to her dreams of sweeter peas

after show party

soooeee …what a hoot …got my name on the door at Plenty’s …funked out after show party for some artist named Perninni ..oh ..and some old tosser who seemed to rig up a polaroid to a holo-projector ..what a woos   ..Perninni’s works were these hoopy figurines called strangels complete with kick-ass packaging ..totally rawked …there was a lotta tension which turned out to be hilarious ..first when Perninni and the masters daughter totally moshed out to ‘theme de yoyo’ by that band ..talk about dirty dancing ..Hetronicle was there -programmed to give his shadow a dancin’ lesson …I hear he went home with some geeker chicks ..then as it was all finishing up and getting a bit more intimate Pernnini springs a surprise on his master ..presenting him with a whole other strangel not included in the show ..so its all quiet and Perninni says to him ‘..this is for you ..honorable teacher ..this is Saloah  ..the eleventh strangel …or was he the first .. he is the strangel of strangels ..the anathema of control..his fetish is blindfolds ..see how his armor nicely peeps out here and there from his cloak and cowl  ..holding a thunderbolt ..I initially wanted him holding a small galaxy ..but I can only do globular clusters ..sooo …oh ..and wings of liquid crystal ..its his way of showing that he knows what people are thinking” ..the old guy was quite touched and left in happy mood ..then the party pumped until 4.00 am ..heh .. I woke up in a float tank with a coupla limbo ladies

young Perninni steals the show

Meet the Strangels

“all your figures are so beautiful.. innocent.. child-like.. you are a fine sculptor.. quite prodigious.. I hope I live till you are older..I want to see you finish some less divine examples of humanity.. someting with a bit more ooomph..rather faces that tell stories than fairy tails that tell faces”
the lad seemed to take it so well..inside he was furious… after begging leave of his master and patron.. he consoled himself in the arms of his sweetheart..
“everything I do.. I do old school ..that old prick uses the latest Holo-paint programs..with the kind of composite analysis wizards that tell you when the ears are too low.. or the elbows too long.. I’m gonna make my next ones outta real stuff.. using my bare fucking hands.. and little pointy sticks n’shit noamsayin?… when we have our next exhibition he’s gonna look like a fucking relic…”
and so it came to pass..some months later..the exhibition opened to uncertain acclaim and certain controversy ..the old masters holograms were always recieved with sentimental attention.. and this time he’d outdone himself with the sorriest collection of knaves and felons a millionare had ever studied.. and yet the public swarmed about the boys work.. ten small figurines.. made to look like dolls.. highlighted with groovy packaging and everything.. when the master found him he persuaded the boy to guide him through the works..
“I call them Strangels..this first one here is Equonon.. he’s the strangel of karmic disparity.. otherwise known as the anathema of philosophy.. with wings of stained glass.. an ’80’s style jet pilots helmet.. skate shorts.. black tee ..sandals and knee high white socks.. his fetish is infidelity ..ever wondered if anything goes on in there beyond the strange telemetry of skepticism?”
“this little lady is named Ashkura.. her fetish is pathomimesis.. loves to pretend she’s drowning in the pool.. very sexy ..she’s the strangel of dysfunctional innocence.. or rather -the anathema of psychology ..she has wings of velvet plushie ..translucent lingerie.. cats ears in her hair.. golf shoes..”
“here we have Faerasus..the strangel of critical misperception.. and the anathema of real politik ..his fetish is uncertainty .. or is it certainty.. wings of elastic.. camo fatigue pants..leather jacket.. moccasins..goatee..orange goggles.. an actual beret ..and look ..he’s carrying a kitten”
“cute as a button is Sothearus -strangel of gestalt exploitation or .. taran tara ..the anathema of sociology.. wings of Teflon.. oversize head.. large outsize eyes.. looks like a small child..but she’s ageless you know ..grey smear of a badly drawn smile.. reminiscent of the crow or the joker ..more of a seagull really.. carries a scarecrow plushie.. she’s hot for idiots “
“Esotaluna.. the strangel of wandering fixation ..the anathema of the dance -carousels get this one going .. wings of moodstone.. gold lycra micro-shorts ..topless apart from a pair of x’s taped over her nipples.. 8 inch heels when not wearing tap shoes.. elbow length black silk gloves ..carrying a water pistol of some kind ..perhaps a super soaker”
“Primapriori ..the inimitable strangel of divine inelegance ..anathema of consciousness.. she’s into massage ..wings of lava lamps ..neat huh.. hiking shoes.. psychadelic stripped leggings.. oversize turtleneck sweater.. dreadlocks.. carrying a butterfly net ..naturally”
“Next is sweet Neoteneo.. modelled on my girlfriend ..she’s into sundials ..not my girlfriend .. I mean.. wings of sharkskin..pink vinyl lederhosen ..would that be vinylhosen ..umm..white stockings.. pirate shirt.. snowboots.. greek fishermans hat in red velvet ..carrying candy cane ..she’s the strangel of ridiculous satori ..inevitably.. the anathema of art ..”
“Now this one was quite a challenge ..took forever to get her feet right ..Laersophrossi ..the strangel of ornamental wisdom ..also known as the anathema of music ..really into gadgets ..wings of fimo.. tie-die singlet.. loincloth.. combat boots.. carries a microphone”
“and so to Hypheulus.. anathema of history ..strangel of cosmic contempt ..his fetish is.. the last word ..wings of velcro ..baggy trousers ..tangerine hoody.. size ‘F’ clown shoes.. carries a backpack for his wings when his self loathing gets the better of him”
“finally we come to Cosimadeus ..matchless strangel of anthrocentric projection ..really an odd sort of fellow ..anathema of anthropology and all that ..deeply into vibrations ..knee length denim cut-offs ..gumboots ..rodeo shirt.. carrying a pichfork ..oh.. wings of knapped obsidian ..you know like those stone age arrow-heads ..oh I really liked your pieces by the way ..such a visceral appeal ..nothing sensualist at all about them ..bravo master ..bravo “

true enough

‘yer doin’ it right kid..inna cupla years Granma’ll let ya start firin’ the 410′..young Angus is all like..cool..then..’whats a 410 Grandpa?’..as he..pretty expertly for a young’n..fitted the bolt back into his Parker-Hale..Granpa quickdraws an odd looking shotgun from his full length Dryazabone..’I calls this baby my sawn off solicitor..its just a scaled down shotty..with the right shells..it can still waste just about anything in close quarters’..Granma has returned from the garden..busying herself at the woodstove..-or the range..as she called it..slipping on his gloves like a surgeon..then putting on his black balaclava..already on his way out..saying to Granma..’just off down the bank love’..as he sits down to eat..Granma tells Angus that he’s now allowed to go dingo trapping with Uncle Bill..he’s so surprised..so pleased..wolfing down his food he’s out the door ..running across the pastures to Bills little shack near the fence line yelling..   ..’Bill..Bill..Granma sez I can go trappin with ya!’..breathless he’s there..to see old Bill smiling quietly ..always his way..the politest man he was ever going to know well ..tho’ he didn’t yet know it..’feel like carrying me gun then, Angus’ ..it wasn’t a question..’aaw can I?’..is his hasty reply..Bill gathers up his traps with their long chains and substantial stakes..draping them over his elderly shoulders..passing over his Merkel to young Angus ..Bill always carried side by side 12 gauge shotties..but this one was special..it was ornately worked with very fine engravings that Angus fancied were scrolling off the metalwork onto his hands as he handled it..communing with this beautiful weapon..they set off across the fields and meadows of his Granpa’s farm..till at last they come to the tree line where Bill last tracked some Dingo’s..the dog had pulled up the trap and its path through the underbrush was easily visible as Bill always attached a 4 or 5 foot branch to the chain as a sort of a drag ..’Wait here..will you Angus’..signaling for him to pass him the Merkel ..as he limped off ..lamed from an old legacy of a hunting mishap years ago..young Angus wondered again why they were doing this ..the oldies were saying stuff like..’they run down pregnant cattle causing them to drop the calf which they happily eat’..he’d never seen it before..in fact it wasn’t until some almost 40 years later that reports of Dingo attacks  ..especially on children ..were becomingcommonplace ..especially at Fraser Island..well after the Lindy Chamberlain affair ..looking back on it all..years later..he realised that those oldies were quite wise ..the family farm was often seething with small children ..disappearing off into the bush unsupervised ..the upshot of all that trapping saw the Dingo’s adjusting and never setting foot on his Granpa’s farm again ..suddenly young Angus hears a shot and then Bill calling out  ..’allright then..come on over’..it wasn’t hard to find him ..standing there next to a dead dingo..some 5-6 feet long from tail to nose..’look at this’ Bill gestures to a nearby stringy bark tree ..recently scorched black from a bushfire..it had been ringbarked ..stripped down to the red raw bark 4 inches or so wide and an inch or more deep..’she must have been in that much pain..she set upon the tree’ ..nothing was said for ages..it struck young Angus there and then as being almost mythical in proportions..and still does to this day

Jump cut

Just discovered an excellent film journal  – Jumpcut…while following up on Metz’ cinesemiotics…and an essay that kind of relates to my previous post and elements of the raison d’etre of  Shadowloop.

Here are two extracts:

“The multiple voices (codes)in the texts end in a superior voice, a singular voice which finally silences all other voices. That voice is no less than the voice of the subject-author fully constituted by the singular unique textual system. In that sense the dominant code “speaks” as the code of unique individual expression and creativity. The text literally constructs a transcendental subject as the source of the text. To whom does it speak? It speaks to me, the reader-subject. It establishes a social exchange, a communication of meaning between subjects, author and reader, or more precisely, producer and end consumer. The text has become complete, replete, in short, a product. The textual system becomes the expression of the author. The unique expression of the author is the unique textual system.”

“The cinesemiotics of Christian Metz marks a crucial beginning for a critical semiotics of the cinema. The gaps, the contradictions in his writings point to the necessity for a genuine return to the text, not as site of finalization, as ultimate goal, but as opening, initiation, commencement into an infinitude of difference, play and pleasure.”

Metz and film semiotics:  opening the field  -Sam Rohdie
from Jump Cut, no. 7, 1975, pp. 22-24  ©Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media, 1975, 2004

Jumpcut

Poetic licence

A country manor…a harpsichord is playing…diverse small birds flit about a great hall..wine is being served…an artist is sketching some actors ..others pace about practicing their lines..dwarfs on stilts tilt at each other, rehearsing pratfalls, several poets are swapping couplets while a beautiful woman cradles her lover on a lounge..over near the lovers a fool plays the lute…eyes full of tears…softly whimpering as they neck like swans..the lover raises his head from her shoulder for a moment to say…

[Darkertower]

…be generous boy

…my love has lost track of my style
searches with sparkles strung trembling by smile
all composure outwritten by a prettier quill
and still…
…it’s all there

the luckiest look to see in her eyes
for just a moment more
breathing kisses to adore
a mouthful of rapport
…willowed in affections

I fear

…have me fainting here

his lipstick smeared face is again smothered in murmuring kisses as the boy plays on…until their pleasures are interrupted by an exuberant bard who gathers them all together to speak

[Spillforth]

I have just madly dashed by coach from Hushminster to bring you the best of news in the greatest haste..Prince Rufus has issued us with his royal licence…

[he commences to read an from an elaborately penned document]

Rufus I… by earthly graces and natural dominion etcetera… To all our ministers, Mayors, Constables and other of our officers of might or motion ..loving subjects. Know ye that we of our facility fond and worthy, exceptional humilities and mere merit, have licenced and authorized and by these flourishes do license and endow these our subjects; William Spillforth, Gregorio Darkertower, Bunter Toffin, Simon Pond, Kit Marley, Orlando D’angelillio, Winston Weston, Amadeus Strange, Chesterfield Defoe, Scarlett Hepburn, Constance Chatterley, Fanny Swift, Miriam Columbine and all others associated with their labors, freely to study, teach, practice, produce, perform and compose; comedies, histories, harlequinnades, grotesques, tragedies, masques, mysteries, pranks, shenanigans, foolery, japes, romances, bungles and pratfalls to shew or otherwise exhibit, to the utmost of their considerable talents, imagination, learning, wisdom, flair and finesse within a purpose built house henceforth known as Darling House and to be funded from the public purse..as also in setting forth about the ale-houses, taverns, inns or any other convenient places such as town halls, universities or cathedrals within the liberties of our free dominion and having our special dispensation of theatrical immunity so that they may refine their art with clear conscience…..witnessed ourself at Hushminster…this 23rd day of May…

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

Diet of Smaug

had an idea..as well as some red wine..began to flesh out some characters..perhaps I might script some exchanges beyond the 5 or 6 or so that inspired it..it’s unlikely..it woulda been secret anyhoo

Prince Rufus -Conqueror of Smaug: he has cut a dashing figure..little is known of his socio-political outlook..not known for surprises..being so young -the council imagine him to be easily managed

Atticus -Archbishop of Smaug:  amiable..very busy..more of a planner than a thinker.. loves parties

Cardinal Reynard: supercilious ..forceful..more threatening than persuasive..believes Parliament is not fit to consider certain issues..

Lord Vandalf  -Earl of Daintree: an utter enigma..no-one has heard of him..

Lady Parnell -Viceroy of  Smaug: charming…intelligent..sensitive.. decent.. scary

Sir  Gecko -Lord of the Ministry:  overall a good man..infrequently impulsive..cautious..instinctive…-yet with mediocre intuition ..imaginative only within design constraints ..a tad more superstitious than he should be

Flashman Tuvoc: charismatic..clever..passionate..creative..inspiring in the way he appears to be more of a risk taker than he really is

Field Marshall Cardioblast:  …never grew into anything worthwhile

looking up Goethe

In the round
While traveling abroad a sculptor discovers a 400 year old oil painting in an obscure provincial gallery to be identical to a bozetto he is currently working on.

The gatekeepers
A community of spirits that failed to accept their ‘inner child’ haunt an enchanted dream bridge they are unable to cross..

Fatima falls in love
A pedophile cardinal converts to Islam only to discover his secret online arabian boy lover is in fact an al queda agent named Fatima.

Sikh cooking
After decades of fruitless searching an archeologist finally unearths the fabled glass onion..said to reveal all the world in its transparency.

The little people
Anxious to exhibit to his foreign counterparts his Machiavellian decisiveness a ruthless statesman boasts that his psy-ops people  will ‘turn’ a well known atheist  dissident into  a devout Muslim…

the exile

It is a place of utter neglect…a shabby trailer bristling with aerials moored alongside a rambling shanty part consumed by ivy…a half dozen lazy cats lolling about on discarded car tyres…numerous car wrecks litter the yard…ham radio traffic from inside the van peppers the silence between passing trains..a chopper lands..a group of smartly dressed people hit the ground running..while numerous bodyguards stalk the grounds..two men and a woman gather at the trailer ..rapping on the door…the radio is silenced…no response..

Lenny: c’mon …you know its us

Luciano: I don’t know you ..you’re dead to me

Pete: I gotcha a cappriciosa from Farferello’s

Luciano: slide it through the catflap ..

[all six cats then sprint through the catflap]

Julie: Arty says hi…

Lenny: c’mon.. open up buddy…we’re still from the same streets..we went to freakin school together..

Luciano: Julie could you tell Lenny that those days are over and that he should just move on?

Julie: how could you Lenny? [stifling a laugh]

Pete: Lurlene’s still asking after you..

Luciano’s face suddenly appears at the screen…..he is unkempt…eating pizza..cats meowing vociferously

Luciano: she still doin’ that navy pantomime?

Pete: uhuh…yeah

Julie watches impassively as a bodyguard is pursued by an amorous goat

Luciano: I always liked that girl

Lenny: c’mon Luciano…c’mon in from the cold man…we need you ….finish the script..show me you’re better than that..bygones dude

Luciano: you hurt me man …you hurt me really bad

Lenny: hey… you hurt me too …you didn’t consult me … I’m not just a businessman

Luciano: yeah …well look who bounced back..

Lenny: I haven’t forgotten a thing man…everything…its all still up here..you remember them days when we were like 13…we’d cut Wednesday afternoon sports to hang out up on the hill..at the old town reservoir..we’d lay there sunning ourselves in our shorts after a swim..sharing a smoke..looking at the clouds..laughing at all the schmucks back at school..sharing our dreams..do ya still dream, Lucky…huh..do ya? [wiping at real tears]

Luciano: I dreamed that friends don’t leave each other behind..Lenny..it was just a dream..and Lenny ..try it from here…[tapping his heart]

Lenny: c’mon Luciano…I’m like a junky here…you’re my pusher man..I’m addicted…no-one writes the gags like you do..just a skit…huh? I’m beggin you. Just a skit…

Luciano: if I do this thing for you.. Lenny.. you promise me ..no-one will ever know?

Lenny: aaw …hey …forgeddabardit…

Luciano: you come back next week… I’ll finish it.. now..geddoutta here … your breakin me up

Clipping into their seats as the chopper ascends they all look very pleased with themselves

Julie: nicely done Lenny

Pete: you think he knows about the residuals

Lenny: what residuals would they be Pete? …[laughing]

©Gregory David Andrews 2008

splash

The movie Gothic fairly intrigued me when I saw it in my early 20’s ..principally as a poet who had just read Don Juan..also due to the eccentricities of Polidori..who happened to be so uncannily like some of the ’special’ folks I was sharing digs with at the time that I was quite astounded and became suspicious that  certain pathologies were more ubiquitous than I’d assumed..over time I learned that those who present as dedicated to change..often never did or do..or that the change was merely a ceremonial lapse of self..a rite of passage only to come full circle..of those that do..not enough can be said of them..-this tho’..not being the place..how a ceremonial lapse of self can lead to real change seemed mysterious to me..as most examples I’d encountered really only signified shallow transformations..

I became interested then..in the notion of deep ceremonial transformation ..especially as a writer  who preferred his characters to be unique as well as convincing..it seemed especially necessary at that particular point as I found only a few people to be actually convincing in real life anyway..so I developed a personal science of prototyping fictitious identities by means of immersion..[ nothing to do with sensory deprivation or waterboarding ]..this involves expert research..real experience ..keen observation..a perceptual rather than judgmental mindset..and so on..one becomes keenly aware of complex factors never seriously noticed before..oscillating capacities of self..-their ability to see themselves clearly or coherently ..perceiving their own behaviors with varying acuity etcetera…

Interestingly enough..at 44 I no longer have a high regard for the works of Byron..

velvet forest

her dreams fused with such melancholy…

held in a hue of bottomless blue

a velvet forest…just passing through

…nothing she could do

a fluttering falling cry from the sky

raining wings of butterfly

…only a matter of time

before…she…you know…

[sniff]

…asks herself the obvious question

On consignment

Clueless drags himself into the diner at about 4.20 am..Lurlene pours him a cup..handing it to him..just giggling..’you don’t wanna know’   giving her that look..she’s already serving a spacetrucker  ..anyhow.. he takes a window booth..no-one gets tired of watching the nearby pulsar..Clueless sat there fidgeting ..trying to grasp some elusive train of thought or something..whispering into his player every now and then..’can’t believe my luck..I got a consignment of robots  ..one of them was some kind of hinky AI..it just sat there sulking like an unwanted marionette..just facial expressions and lots of eyework..I shut it down and ran a full diagnostic on its bioware  ..nothing..so I check the software ..almost totally reprogrammed  ..250000 thousand new words in its vocab..some kind of word association/ ident crapplet running the most demented set of personality configuration plugins I’ve ever seen ..most still enabled and in conflict with each other..it appears to have re-written its own programming and circumvented its data protection systems by wireless..after restoring the system..I asked the little guy ..no longer an AI..what he’d been doing to himself..he just gave me an idiot grin and said..’acting’.. but thats not all he’d been doing..he was working on a play’..[he reads from a scrap of paper]…

Bauhaus Masterscene: No more.
” It is twilight..drapes are fluttering pennant like..revealing another glorious sunset..marbling over the polished wooden floor.. martinis sit chilling on steel and glass.. Leonora is liberally spreading pate on ciabatta.. Juan turns to her..saying callously…’oooh Leonora ..I can’t believe you went for corduroy on this lounge’..there is the startled shock in Leonora’s eyes ..the coldest of pauses.. the clatter of that knife on the floor…a flurry of sobbing footsteps..the slamming of a door.”

‘does he mind being taken back..no..sometimes tho’..I kinda get this feeling he’s scamming me’..

flowers for the game

a most interesting character..soo obstinate in some ways..so easygoing in all others..an atheist mystic of all things.. once..while we were making our way through busy afternoon streets..we were accosted by a group of evangelists..he shouted at them.. ‘get thee hence false prophets..I do not venerate the works of man..the victim thinks about God’..and he strode off.. fuming..-I had  to quite hoof it to catch up with the chap..he has no time for politics either..best summed up in his own words..’I know  you’re not up with the very latest developments in philosophy..so to give you a lil’ heads up..a code of ethics is not something that requires decryption’..he spoke further on his existential outlook by describing himself as a rogue ethologist living amongst a virtual community of artificial beings  ..playing a theatrical game he called Schizethica..one of the special characteristics of Schizethica is a free market approach to identity and intellectual property..yet no character is permitted to refer or otherwise allude to any other characters ’schiznicity

‘..that is to say.. those things that they may project as.. or ..believe to be ..constituting their substance.. usually assertions of ..race ..politics ..religion ..psychology ..philosophy ..intelligence or integrity

..Due to the implicit dynamic.. all of the players simultaneously find themselves at the lowest points of their character arcs..its also a world that is frequently hacked..complete with a rampant trojan that amplifies suspicion into hatred..hatred into obsession..until the game itself retaliates..

Talent scout

well known and highly regarded by everyone in the business.. he is engaging and warm.. believes in impartial integrity and takes care not to say anything that may be politicized.. often refusing to take sides on anything at all.. an easy smile and an unassuming nature he is always immaculately dressed.. likes home cooked food.. fast cars.. diplomatically adroit and always seems to know what to say when that unexpected complication arises.. in his mid 50’s he has old school charm and quite a way with the ladies.. uses transparent vocabulary to impress a point.. capable of swiftly enabling a group to express what it had apparently been thinking/feeling all along.. only resorts to his considerable personal charisma when moved by acts of greatness.. utterly mystified by his own true nature.. ever vigilant for public opportunities of self reproach or random acts of kindness.. still flicks at a no longer extant fringe from time to time.. once implicated in a counterfeiting racket he became the star witness for a prosecution shakedown of the mob and was whisked away to a new life by the witness protection program and was expertly tutored for his new role as talent scout for a major recording label.. he fit right in

Lionman

strangers come and go there all the time.. a coffee stop in the very center of town.. so another tall athletic young man hardly stood out at all.. waiting for his coffee.. his eyes sly with furtive contact.. all the women working there noticed.. until he held his gaze lazily over the machine hissing and frothing in front of him.. strangely intrigued by an image struck on a gold medallion fixed to its exterior.. a winged lion holding forth an open and weighty book.. at one moment.. looking further afield.. out on the periphery of his vision he spied the lion turn another page.. Taking his coffee outside.. he found himself a place in the morning sunshine.. to sit there thinking about that childhood ordeal with the lion.. recalling how he was found as fortune may sometimes have it.. by the rest of the tour group.. somewhat agitated and with no memory of the days events.. until now.. fourteen years later

“I have had many names for I am very old and you.. you are new.. however I shall spare you.. for until just now.. I hadn’t laughed for a thousand years..” smiled the lion.. picking himself up.. “don’t be scared ..it’s a variation on a theme..” he said.. his body taken with strange light.. shapeshifting into a man’s form.. with the head of a lion.. Taking him by the hand he led him back to his people.. bringing him near enough to hear their frantic calls.. saying to him “we shall meet again one day.. when your life turns another page..”

Sipping at his coffee.. lost in a Manga moment.. he just sat there.. confused