(Title card fades in. Cut to over the shoulder shot of a
clown pissing in a bucket while his wife paints the walls with the lives of better men)
Last night my mind racing was like in a film
Don't buy into It. Yes It. No, not
IT, but It.
That Pulp Fiction Limitless belief in
Sixth Sense that you are a Law Abiding Citizen.
(Cut to sun rise over a west coast ocean with couple fighting in foreground)
There it is
again. The Star Wars that shape
the clockwork of
our lives.
The idle torment of linear narratives shot in proscenium
(Cut to business men in Vera Wang suits having expensive
French dinners with congressmen wishing they were 20 again)
That sticky slimy Clockwork Orange that stains
the walls. Mother! Visits the Day After Tomorrow and wants
me to be My Sister's Keeper so I keep The Notebook by my desk filled with drawings of a Memento.
(Close up of broken polaroid camera lens with the reflection of a sunset over the east coast ocean)
Her touch burns like Sixteen Candles and she tells
me a little Toy Story
Cinema was my only escape as a child
(Pan over a crowd of people all filled with regretful happiness lit in low key lighting)
acted out with The Usual Suspects and it felt Interstellar, Psycho, Alien, like
a little white house. Casablanca. But The Departed
always go Back to the Future in the end. I got Vertigo from her little Braveheart.
(low angle shot of a car crash happening in reverse with the bodies moving fast forward)
Amelie. That was the name of
my Taxi Driver and for some reason she
wore a Full Metal Jacket that glittered in the light.
The Shining was brilliant.
(Credits roll as the lights on the set all slowly burn out one by one revealing
the blue rust patina of the floor covered in glass)
I miss the summer blockbuster
No New Stories 
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