The plug was pulled for a moment. The machine has not yet regained its full speed. Not all of the wheels are spinning yet. How did it happen? How could it possibly happen? We tried to rest a bit. We tried to get some sleep. Still tired. Not sure what is causing this. It is not good to walk into an exhibition and to see not much more than a room with frames on the walls and very odd looking people trying so hard to look interested. At least in something other than themselves. The trashy looking girl with three layers of what barely made a skirt and that white wide open shirt, how was she in any way interested in the images on the walls? Most of her time seemed spent looking for her own reflection, or at it, or looking for her maybe 50 year old partner, his black dyed hair slicked in various ways over his unfortunately shaped head. He was so much shorter than her, carried giant shoe store bags, uttered some odd combinations of words, tilting his head cautiously towards her. She barely managed to stand on those... I guess they were shoes.
"No photography." if this order had been followed at all times, the place in which we all stood would not even exist.
Slept for hours, just minutes later. The dreams were so empty and silly that I was embarrassed to even be in them. Fully conscious that this was not reality, made the experience a bit more tiring even. The characters so overdrawn. I wanted to stop the cameras. Such bad acting. All my invention.
All of these are not very good signs. This is what I imagine happens to film when it is locked in the camera and goes from underexposed to perfect to more and more and more and then it loses its memory of things and the lens still does not close, the flood of light just keeps washing away what was there using the very picture that was exposed, just there, just split seconds ago.
Overexposed. Maybe that's what it is.
It happens.
My head feels as if it had been forced to be screwed on with the wrong thread.
Just feeling sick... again... and it is probably okay... it happens... it is a healthy preparation for great times to come.
I should be happy about it.
There has to be a balance. It is important. Enough. Good night.
A slower and yet not better moment in an otherwise well paced experience... an apology.
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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on August 27, 2004 12:29 AM.
An endles onslaught of little things enveloping yet another morning on the corner. was the previous entry in this blog.
About Wislawa Szymborska's rejection letters, a very nice quote by Rilke, some Schadenfreude and some other unresolved distractions. is the next entry in this blog.
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