Why do I hear an applause sound clip when a single car drives past in the night about two blocks away?
Sitting in a bedroom in front of a half opened window with a classic repertoire of sounds;
CHEAP CRICKETS A CLUNKY CLOCK TICKING OUTSIDE A DOOR MY OWN WRITING OCCASIONAL SEAT RUFFLING
Cut to realizations: effort as love / love as work. A pensive fingertip pulls down the lower lip. (it really sinks in as a truth) Try not to reference the image and sounds of notebook writing. - back-lit in a warm opaque yellow.
I make a cup of tea with physicalities that may or may not be pensive and distracted. The kitchen is tidy, but not in a neurotic way, on the contrary I want to look quite carefree (if I am to commit to this, then here is where I take off my tucked in satin shirt) and imply the presence of something which is no longer there.
By the mere ability to create the negative space I possess control (allowing entrance to not any, but to all). And the will to do so is followed by a series of cues which aid in the process of effort- sincere and genuine. This very effort is placed on a black wooden stool - pinspot as to imply desirability.
The lighting of a cigarette, in no new way- as if a habit. The room is relatively dark and unsaturated, lit mainly by a dull blue, cast in several angled parallel lines. 2 orange tips of glowing cigarettes punctuate.
This moment is calm; it lingers.
The dialogue which would occur here is difficult to write. The lines are between 2, not any.
It is also not about the monologue anymore- but the very desire to deliver a bold monologue.
(I consider) sitting up with calm conviction and delivering a monologue.
This is where my body learns to commit to that nervous feeling - and this too is where it begins to know of lovesickness.
I get defensive, vulnerable, even frantic. I turn off some lamps and turn others on with methodical intent;
Unsure of the set changes that occurred- I start to get seduced by the scene. Clothes come off, and I let you touch me (again). The mirrored wall allows you to look at yourself, as I think:
What of me watching you?
or I think:
Dim nearest lamp 10%.
SLOW PULL FOCUS TO:
Writing desk in front of the half opened window. The room is still dark as to imply the same night, but not much later as alluded to by the occasional passerby running to their car as it starts to lightly rain- footsteps louder than the rain.
The best segue would be to pan to a framed poster of a psychedelically colored Rorschach poster. The rain on the window casting moving shadows onto it, making it appear to undulate; but there is no such prop to turn to. (No drug references here - neither soft nor hard)
A plate with cheeses, dried fruit, and a single glass of red wine.
What about a Rorschach image which is created not on adjoined spaces?
How then can it be interpreted if it lacks the obvious symmetry - an other. Perhaps it is not the interpretative potential which becomes vulnerable, but the interpreter oneself. For only the 2 sides can know of their symmetry.
It is important to note here that in order for the fold to hit its mark, there is a requirement of force.
It is also important to note that this very effort, can be the same as placed earlier - on the windowsill this time - with a light curtain, gentle billow.