Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Dead bodies against the dying light

a film
similar to slacker
low-fi hallucinogenic
super 8 collage
disconnected narrative
intensely of a place
dallas and austin in the summer
keep returning to a sequence
in a garage
a rearranging of old boxes
rotten and water damaged cardboard
full of dusty objects
reference the garage at sam's
peeling away the layers
all through the eye of a cheap film camera
flashes to other bits of narrative sequence
girls swimming in shallow limestone pools
enchanted rock and perdenales falls
acid laced visions dancing in winter woods
old men laughing at the camera filming them
images in silhouette and super 8 colors
back to the garage with the boxes
uncovering one turned upside down
the objects within exposed
revealing a loom of spiderwebs
cobwebs of dust
dead bodies against the dying light
hanged men twisting on the horizon
presence of darkness
of what is called evil
fascinations of a filmmaker
the camera going deeper
exploring the angles
it is an ancient machine
a calculator of moral emptiness
a difference engine for agony
behind it I recognize a reel to reel tape recorder
the one I used to listen to the insane
thinking I need to get that back
been wondering where that was
back in the house
similar to the East 52nd house
but derelict now
full of the signs of a crack house
the original owner gone
walls tagged and torn
rooms echoing empty
sign of pallets in the garage
thinking they've been going through my possessions
turn the corner still as a camera
a familiar crack house
remnants of posters from local bands on the walls
set lists and xeroxed zine images
stand there with the camera
taking in the fragments of private history
panning slowly over the walls
distant sounds of laughter and violence
scratchy records of memory playing
early evening sun yellow in the windows
looking for the poster of her
the one I only noticed after months
one night wasted looking up
seeing her face sneering with beauty
calling out
hey that's my girl there
someone replies
yeah I know her
low laughter
sure you did
nothing more for me to say
where is she now?
shut down not wanting to lose the memory
don't know
the camera leaves the room
wanders back through the front of the house
footsteps in the empty rooms
outside kids playing and family sounds
soundtrack feedback of a guitar plugging in
broken bottle on the strings
push button on the reel to reel clacking on
sound of the insane interviews
playing out somewhere in the back of the house
maybe out in the garage
someone is crying