Electra’s dictionary & film noir/teaser (jmmusechron)continues

 

….as it slowly comes to me that where I am is in motion, I force my mind backwards to try and recall what I last remember ….as I look around the interior of the truck’s unit, which is mostly empty

in fact, I realize that it was this fact that caused me to wake out of the sleepy fog I somehow got put under ….put under…. ? for now, as the truck takes a turn, I am thrown across the floor of the truck’s studio sized container unit like a pinball and have to reach my arms out and search for something stable to hold onto —as I’m jettisoned and rolled around, and no, I don’t really need to search, though, as I collide into the answer; the only other object in the truck’s container unit besides me, I now am struck against as I encounter it—a Volvo excavator 

should I wonder? But no, out in the middle of farmland and rural country, these really are everywhere. I don’t question. Instead, I grab hold of a part of the step up to the door to stabilize myself and wait for the truck to return to its normal speed on the highway. When it does I haul myself up to the carriage of it and climb inside it, anchoring myself into the seat. I look around inside it trying to figure out if it could be useful if I found out how to start it and managed to…. specifically as a defense or way to get out of here

Electra’s dictionary (film noir 2b ….continued?)

It is on my way back from a walk when someone drives up alongside me and —for just a flash of an instant I think it’s someone I know….only I don’t get to find out 

as it seems either something hits me on the head, or I trip over a rock in the road ….and it is only later when I start to wake from a foggy dream that I realize I am in the back of an empty moving-truck that feels is going at full speed and, without windows for baring— I have no idea where I was going or what time of day

Electra’s dictionary; my guide through hell (jmmusechron)

I have been so shattered. I don’t know where my head has been since…. since ….so, normally I’d think it interesting that my neighbor —who I join in the horse stable to brush down horses with —is also a writer (and screenplay editor)

And as we brush horses, we talk lightly. For I seem unable to access …. my ….self…. I feel mostly a zombie and so cold ….inside ….I am so cold inside 

But somehow, I do not know how, but between her and her husband, they convince me to do things before I realize what I say —because, later in the week, I find myself with her, walking through, again —the nearby historic town of Chestertown and ….finding myself actually charmed ….

is it that I find comfort in the evidence of historical past…. or is the comfort because it vaguely reminds me of Holland with its connection to an historical past, with its medieval buildings lining the streets …. and so, is it for the false comfort of that sense (illusion) of (false) stability ….or just my belief it is evidence of humanity?

Mary talks to me of her published book as we walk the ancient brick street that are awkward and uneven from hundreds of years of shifting…. 

and so it turns out she studied at the Lee Stasberg school in New York …. uncanny! …. I studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York and at HB Studio in New York…. We have both been moving around the country and while I spent years in Michigan, she was across the lake in Chicago ….and the oddest sense I feel like I know her husband from some foggy forgotten time 

So what am I writing about? As my mind flew out the window as she drove…. she kept trying to inspire me with ideas (like trying to revive a corpse I feel)

“you need to write and sell it—then you can get a lovely little place in Chestertown….”

I felt as if cotton wool was over my ears and emotions ….last year….? 

I’d have agreed with her ….

and yet I find I think of Jörn …. for the first time

….and later again and again ….like a sleeping dragon who dreams, 

and dreams it feels things ….and then dreams to hide ….and then things seem to ….begin to ….seep through a little 

you know….

since he left on the last mission —it feels like a lifetime ago

and now for the first time in weeks

 I let myself go to thoughts I’ve avoided and ….

I think of Jörn ….

 and then there was Jörn 

Birthday blues noir

 

There are times when Jörn and I are apart for long lengths of time ….that I …. I miss Jörn so much….that I print out his picture to feel as though he is with me, conjured ….because being so far from him hurts now in a physical way I cannot bear

but, you seee….you know, I never can admit it to myself….I stand in front of the mirror and I just see ….reflect….reflection….in reverse; so there is Electra….who is what….’he is going to hurt you,’ I say this out loud to that celf….looking back at me. we never say ….aloud just what the celves hide ….’they always do….and why do you let them….? don’t let them in….’ 

and so I have that Celf to blame for needing to; like a shard in a broken mirror glass; one Celf within so many others….this one contains the most sacred emotions that can only survive under lock and key….in a secret vault in a cave hidden by a forest

Thoughts caught in legend keys in electra’s dictionary

 

If I could be anywhere right now, where would I be….

I stop as I write this and wistfully reach out from my inner scope and ….wonder. What about right now? I suppose here is where I am and there are such worse places to be. I have known of some of those. I ask that infinite elusive mind ….out there….why is it so much harder now to read the world news when it seems to summon up the faith has become another sort of elusive.

I think about Jörn and his work, and I think, even to him, it has become just work but….not just….

anymore 

The youth are angry at their elders. They blame them for the current state of the world. Inundated with plastic waste and spoiled resources running thin; like the air they took for granted 

and then take their anger out on anyone older than 28 when they face off from the vantage of their jobs which gives them the power to steal them blind and know how to get away with it

Oh dear, Electra ….what is it for 

If I could be anywhere right now it would be ….in a lovely garden that kept the fury of the world out …. would you come with me there? would you enter my sanctuary where we can forget malice and spite, the wars, the economy and that yawning promise of doom….would you enter my garden ….push down my walls and erect a pillar to stake and claim its safety….?

rose glass dome

 

All day locked in thought. Thoughts. And look upon the steps and roads, how they link and seem to go somewhere if seen from altered points of view, and yet go nowhere just the same, but even nowhere is somewhere. Isn’t it

well I don’t know 

   but it has to be a somewhere 

and how I mean this is, in relation to that realization of, those things in life I once thought I had wanted

   I’d been on paths 

they took me somewhere 

but then I wound up nowhere 

anyway ….and I wonder, would it have mattered if I’d just stood still

didn’t go anywhere, if I stayed right where I started 

it has been this sprint through life

of wasted time; wasting time 

but I’d not have known unless I tried it so…. was it wasted? ….well…. sometimes I think so 

even as I know, it would have driven me mad to not have known had I not tried 

   those roads 

that wanderlust in me

I was so restless …. I never could stand still …. I couldn’t stand it, standing still…. wherever did it get me 

but I know I would not want to go back to most of the places I ran away from —all the places I ran from, I don’t regret leaving where I ran from yet, there remains one place I left that I did not want to go, never wanted to leave —yet I never could go back to

I think there is an uneasiness inside me, I imagine it was because I’d been uprooted before I understood where I’d been born and adapted another country’s ways that was never meant to be mine. And I look at this world with its wars. And the peoples who flee. Refugees, homeless and cast out or —killed 

I don’t understand this human experience. This kind of ownership of a land. 

we are all people. And everyone is walled up

I don’t understand

I am disappointed, I guess. Those peaceful people ….now seem so prejudice to me….no little China? No little Italy? Says one place. Fighting Hitlers and killing for false claims for a new evil painted another shade of white but black or white or red or yellow, I can’t even eat meat, so what is wrong with me?—clearly I don’t belong here, I am the little prince with my rose in delusions

I guess this is why I say I don’t like people, nobody is willing to tolerate, they only impose and dictate and listen to themselves and agree with their own echoes