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Too long too soon

2010-02-13 - 5:22 a.m.

Too drunk to sleep, too tired to try again. Too soon.

I am seeing scenes of a screenplay I will never write. I am wandering a well-lit sewer with a Canon 1ds mounted with a 45-200mm wide angle lens, type 3a Israeli body armor with ceramic plating, and comfortable shoes. I have built a processing shack layered with corrugated iron, surrounded by chicken wire, surrounded by a locked chain link enclosure. I leave this place, then silently pass by a fidgeting black man who pays no attention. A white woman walks along and mutters loudly about the need to feed her 'fuck box'.

I am on the surface. I am working a job in an office carrying on conversation, then drinking, then passing out in a sparsely apartment set in beige tones and neural accents, my head propped on a glass coffee table.

I am on a date, and explaining how polyvinyl chloride is synthesized as part of an elaborate joke involving dance clubs. She does not get it but smiles and nervously laughs. Time passes. Alcohol is had. The experience is filed as an anecdote by both parties; the reasons for this are entirely dissimilar.

There is a long street filled with lightly humming sodium lights beaming soft orange circles onto the pavement. Shadows resembling objects stretch out to either side. I am walking with no express purpose at a casual pace.

I am paying a telephone bill; going to a supermarket and buying juice and eggs; spending the better part of an hour on top of a glass-crenelated 30 story apartment complex that I do not live within; falling asleep near the whispering radiator of an all-night southern comfort food outlet, face planted on a chipped table stained with time, green exposed fluorescent lighting rendering predominantly black skin an alien vibrancy.

The sun rises and sets, the people come and go, and everything is quiet and calm and expected. People are no less rude or thoughtful than expected in typical contexts. There are no montages or time-elapse shots.

The last scene has no sound. I am looking in the direction of the camera, inattentively focused on something in the foreground, naked in bed, alone, lit by the blue-white light of automobiles passing by along a road, too tired to sleep. Too long too soon.

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