Electra’s dictionary & film noir/impairments have power

He says,

“the bullet is still in there,” in such a tone as one might say, ‘I had a shitty day’ with an accompanied resigned sigh 

something always switches for me in moments of crisis but it takes just the right shove to carry me over that threshold 

the shock of blood everywhere, the paleness of his complexion ….just to the welcome mat when first only I feel that lightheaded warning …. then the taste of fear when he says,

“I can’t reach it—“he suddenly moves to lean towards me extending a utility knife, “it’s in my shoulder—behind—you’re going to have to do it….” and looks up at me matter-of-fact with those eyes, now foggy with fatigue 

“Me? I’ll call 911–“ I reach for my phone

“Nej!” he shouts this and shocks me so much that I drop my phone. It lands loudly on the floor board wood plank

I stare at him

“No….” he says more calmly, “no one can know I’m here…. alive….”

This is when the switch occurs….

it is involuntary ….like spring loaded; a catapult when he says,

“But I might not be if an infection sets in….just need to get the bullet out— duva…. I’ll tell you what to do….”

It is always at that moment when it happens that I know ….I am invincible and all fears and emotions blow away, like stepping out of a costume and being aware of only ….energy and watch it all happen…. fingers, objects and just calculations 

It is a strange thing about this moment when you sit on the precipice of two awarenesses and I have heard it categorized as the common garden variety of disassociation but I don’t know but if it is, then maybe it is not well understood. Sometimes worlds need to be saved and not everyone in it notices what is happening in the furthest reaches of corners ….

“Use that needle ….” he tells me 

“There’s rubbing alcohol in the kit,” he tells me

I use it to cleanse the area with strips of fabric torn from the bottom of my shirt and then my hands

“There’s also a bottle of vodka,” he gestures with his head at the rucksack I only just notice by the door where I came in

I get the bag and bring it over,

“how long have you been here?” 

“What time is it?”

I show him my phone for the time 

“So I spent the night here….”

“How—?”

“Chopper.”

“Who?”

He shakes his head,

“I can’t tell you…. I’m surprised you didn’t hear—wake up the dogs or….”

“He has the television up pretty loud,” I hand him the vodka 

I watch him take a long swig, then look up at me with one brow raised,

“ready?”

invincible 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir;Notes to a stranger & codes/then it is you

name yourself

*******

The nightmares have returned —but I only realize as I walk through Sunny’s forest, there had been another last night…. as it now comes back to me; there is still something dark that is buried there that I am still hiding from 

But as I hike through leaves and branches on my way to find the right path which leads to that hunter’s hide, I see the clearing and the two objects ….and as I walk past them I see the path that leads to the hide which looks like a little gray house with dark green camouflage tree branches painted on it like all the others on Sunny’s hunting grounds. The small building structure is sat on tall metal props that elevate it high; like a treehouse, it is tree level and for a moment I seem to just stare at it as I compare it to the photo in the email attachment and…. I get a chill; a kind of shudder as if I get a sense of fear

I walk the rest of the distance to reach it, take a deep breath as I circle it, walking towards the front, where the ladder is that leads up to a door…. and— for just a quick moment as I get a jolt, I pause to take a deep breath and then climb the tall ladder slowly as I feel my knees start to tremble. With growing dread, I force myself to not think as I continue my climb to the top. And, once there, I feel myself trembling even more by now, then forcing out thought, haul myself up the landing with both hands. I land neatly in a quiet thud, then carefully I test the wood of the landing with my weight on it 

And as the landing proves sound, I test myself to walk two steps ….carefully to the front door and pause…. hold my breath…. and, squeezing my eyes shut, grab the door handle which looks like a regular old brass doorknob that you would have found in some old house from the 1940s….It turns with difficulty but manages to unfasten and now I start to pull open the door, at first very carefully, only about a centimeter —and peak in….but I don’t have to as —at that moment I hear Jörn’s cough just before he says, 

“yes it’s me duva…. it’s safe….”

Only he should have prepared me…. and as I swing wide the door, I see his blood everywhere 

 we are meant to live consciously. maybe now is not meant to know why. just to know; that what you feel matters and should be consciously acknowledged because ….it all really matters 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir;deception email (jmmusechron)

I go to the emails and find the one from Carmen and open it, it says

To Cabaret administrator; 

I require a refund for the two items you will see pictured in the attachments 

So I open each attachment ….but instead of items from the online shop the two photos are ….

rather odd…. one is a photo of two odd broken branches; one shaped like a V the other a Y

the other photo is …. of …. a hunter’s hide ….

suddenly it hits me; I have seen both these things …. because they are on Sunny’s property ….

 

 

[a break from events]

 thoughts…. & /of the dictionary

in all the relationships/lovers I’ve ever had, never was there one who ever read anything I wrote. Never asked to, never took the initiative to bother. the same is true for my visual art, they but took a casual glance at it and never commented during the course of our intimacy

one even walked right across one of my paintings and left a footprint 

Is that why I do this ?

I guess there is a contradiction of how I am perceived outwardly. My physical looks don’t match who I am (do I look like a slut?) and must be the reason I have always attracted the worst partners. I really do not see how others see me; I get confused whenever situations come about from the result of this (so it is no surprise I don’t post pictures of myself here and try to limit it in other places) 

Some people have been asking me what is happening with my ‘project’ side of “Electra’s dictionary” 

Electra’s dictionary ….. it’s been a part of me for as long as I have been self-aware. And, it seems that whatever I do in my life, it evolves into but it is also my clipboard of consciousness and —I guess, will continue to until the end 

To be and to morph, and bend to life around the nucleus that I exist in….but

Electra’s dictionary ….does it belong in that real world out there? 

I don’t want be commercial

so —what could it be? 

There’s a line in the movie Tootsie when Bill Murray’s character says “I wish I had a theatre that was only open when it rained,” 

and …. I guess it’s like that 

what kind of people venture out on rainy evenings? Possibly the kinds who wish to avoid crowds…. 

Those other types ….well …. they would never grasp the Dictionary

So, in trying to envision how to reach that rainy day audience —as they must exist but maybe just are scattered all over the planet in secret corners of the world, as, I believe there are a lot of introverts out there with similar leanings 

Lately when I have been thinking about this in consideration in making it as film, it would work best if it could be done very modestly. Almost like it is Electra’s iPhone filming it as an extension in her diary and just let the story tell it. 

Visually and audibly, as my diary depicts and blends the real with the haze of illusion…. move from verse to scenes fluidly like the blog; like a vlog …. it has become my favorite as an idea, so—in this way it would not need big budget special effects methods, as I couldn’t compete with this anyway but I really don’t think my style of storytelling actually needs it—and I have begun to believe it’s more a distraction to do the Dictionary in that way.

…. a bit gritty at first as it opens …. visually like stepping inside a diary and a consciousness