Everyone is going to the Academy Awards. I have been thinking about what I will wear. But then I sleep all afternoon, and when I wake it is late. My friend tells me on the phone that he was planning to go to the countryside to view an astronomical event, but has accidentally gotten locked in the club where we were to play a show the following night. I go to help him. Entering the room, I close the door behind me, locking it. I try to reach the club owner on the phone and leave a message. The police arrive and tell me, impatiently, to unlock the door. When I look again I see that the deadbolt can easily be turned from my side. I have become a burglary suspect and am questioned.
Explanations
caveat lector
For your edification and delight, the following flotation devices are offered:
flotson - concerning duende and the portable stallion; musings on poesis in convenient, bite-sized chiclets. mise en abyme - concerning the synergistic effects of Google and intoxicants; a prolegomena to any future metaphysics. flanerie - concerning the cosmopolis, ubiquitous technologies and decisive moments; Bell, Bresson and Baudelaire, a triple threat in the age of Nokia. oneironautica - concerning hypnogogia; an archaeology of sleep.
Special thanks to Joy Morton, Fritz Lang, George Herriman and Escola Portuguesa de Arte Equestre.
My father and I have joined a procession...
Saturday, July 12, 2008
My father and I have joined a procession of union men, traveling at night on foot via a secret dance step that identifies us by the soft and regular pattern of our feet scraping the ground. It is dangerous to fall out of step. We are separated when my father goes to help a friend. A fox comes to me and swallows an ember from my torch. The fox glows like a lantern and I follow it to safety.