peut-être n'existez-vous pas.  peut-être est-ce seulement que j'ai eu besoin de vous pour exister.  auquel cas, je me rends compte que je suis assez seul ici ….dans ce monde terrifiant et fou

side notes; a sketch for a sketch

Open to black and white of what at first appears like two silhouette, paper, cutout, mirror-reflections staring at each other; like a still image from a Busby Berkley film

the one on the right has a 1920’s flapper-like hairstyle and the other on the left wears a Gatsby hat; the two silhouettes stare at each other. 

From black and white, the tone changes to a deep, dark purple and for several beats, and frames, it stays like that before it softens to natural tones of shadows with surreal interruptions of tones caused by the lights from the city outside that spill and color their nearby shadows in a lunar blue; the blue glow reaches and illuminates their skin tones 

Like voyeurs watching we see  from slightly behind this view and slightly above looking down, the hand of the one wearing the Gatsby hat on the left, moves to touch the other, leans over and pushes the one with the flapper hairstyle back, and leans over in a deep kiss

it is awhile before the shadows make sense of the features and the shapes to distinguish who is the male until more light is introduced. 

the smooth, white, shiny satin that glows in the light worn by the flapper, cling to broad shoulders and the unmistakable outlines of well-built muscles as each acts out their role; a silent pact between them.

Until, both caught in the heat of this, the flapper decides to change tactics, and suddenly shifts position to the dominate position which, lends a kind of perversity with the shimmer of the satin chemise and the feminine elegance of his make up as his hair falls across her like a curtain, as the Gatsby hat gets tossed across the room 

which closes with an outline view of them through a keyhole as her hands are seen removing his chemise going up the muscles of his back 

 ac yn ymddangos yn fy amseroedd mwyaf enbyd, fy nghanllaw trwy Uffern

 indeed (lol!)

Choklad

One day a few months back, I was lost in thought walking along this road. I was coming from the right going back, I guess, and in my peripheral vision I was aware of a speck on the right of my horizon vision, following me. I stopped to look. And a few miles back there it came to me at full gallop. So, now we are friends, while I am here. 

Animals are always following me wherever I go, it is strange but I suspect it is because they know I prefer them to people 

***yes, there is more blog Noir of course btw; alas finished the backstory script of ep, 1(pure agony!)

dear e.d. …. of course it has been such a horrible time 

but so many other things make up for it …. 

and of course how am I even writing the script? —but then wasn’t it Rowling who was once so desperate she wrote HP all on toilet paper ….I have taken to over exercising to deal with the stress. but am not eating. I am upset all the time here and I get so scary thin, e.d., so just hope I don’t fall apart but you know, I have faith my work is going to pay off, I do believe in it as a work; it’s been all that I am since I can remember

….and I realize lately that as always, the dictionary is guiding me ….because that is how the journey began. I know I need to keep going. it is meant to take its complete form ….I trust it will show me the way 

but if it is about humanity, after all, seen through a philosophical artist’s lens then, I feel it must require an actual poke inside an excavation as odd as maybe it seems— what is this to do with art? but it does as the human story and I would be beyond thrilled to have that happen; 1) for the research 2) for the research (lol) 3) for the credibility of course 4) for the ideas 

I mean I always knew archeology would enter in —as related to the Elan/Raoul story; And even before —my obsession and fascination with bog people,

and it’s all there in the earth, isn’t it? 

a part of the history of a planet but —there is something about the tactile proof of its existence that causes one to feel a connection to their stories in such a personal dimension. But, I have had this feeling a while that —I think I am meant to find something because so—many other things have turned out ….accurate…. these thoughts along with —sitting alone in a room— get me through the tedium of the detail nail biting script writing ….and done on my phone …. while walking the highway for seven miles, and i suppose by now whether I like it or not I am used to living by the seat of my pants…. 

life is a cabaret…. J'aimerais être là

et apparaît toujours dans mes moments les plus désespérés

 

tack