i need, need, need. have to have to have to. do something with all my footage from berlin, car rides with european couples, train rides to amsterdam, fields of nothingness which is everything, brilliant light caught in monet's garden, ferris wheels in paris, suspended sky, father and son on the swing, mothers waving bye, red robes framed in the window against the black night, burlesque shows, grandiose germans, heavy laughter caused by cocktails, a photobooth stranded in the middle of nowhere, temptation inward, silent motels, unconscious interviews on ambien, dadaish, waiters with drugs in brussel's bathrooms. unfamiliarity, just the desire to sense more. i have it captured. the tapes are just waiting in boxes beneath my bed.
a presence inspired by the production of perpetual passion. or perhaps vice versa. processual prose for the preservation of captivating moments. memory must exist to exist. i capture moments to make it so. "claudelean are you awake?" always. "if you could have one wish what would it be?" for an instant to forget my body. with a mind of material, i attempt to write out what is within. it helps me forget my body to make matter.
No comments:
Post a Comment