Continual

What I need to say is tied into knots. I am pulling at the wrong ends of things and growing more frustrated as the shape I want to make is definite in its detail. I saw a movie this afternoon, what an expensive exercise it is to see a movie. I planned to set out on foot and see 'I'm not there' at the Dendy. I kept changing my outfit but was getting no closer to leaving the house. The light and heat cast a sturdy barrier between The Peach and the world.

In a last moment change of plan I set out with Grizelda. We went in the car over to the Broadway Centre and stood in line at megaplex number twelve million to see a safe romantic comedy. Or so I thought. They are never safe those romantic comedies. The ridiculous divide between life and film has never been more obvious. In life if you are a writer and you write something terrible about a person they call you a fucking cunt and never speak to you again. Sometimes it does not even need to be terrible and in that case they either go silent and sulky or yell and then never talk to you again. It is quite certain that they will not agree to marry you.

It is not sensible to be angry at a movie. Not sensible at all.

Comments