what is there to do?
"i fucking hate being home!" she wines into the phone "There’s nothing to do!"
what is there to do?
the people are gone, the fun, gone.
what was the fun?
was there ever fun?
what have we been doing all these years?
Driving in circles and eating food and looking for ways to find ways to not notice that we are doing nothing.
Look for alcohol so that the nothing that we're feeling will feel like something... or the something that we're feeling will feel like nothing... or maybe looking for alcohol is something to do... always a full nights work, always a kind of constant task to focus on, to blur out the nothing...
where should we want to be if we don’t want to be here?
I want to be on film sets shooting scenes.
I want to be on those sets.
I want to be in cafes drinking espresso watching people in fashionable clothes walking past the windows.
I want to be in cafes drinking espresso typing or writing with a pen.
I want to be in cafes typing or writing stories to make into stories and screenplays to make into films.
I want to be at home doing nothing or cleaning or cooking alone. for myself in a home that is my home.
and at night?
what is there to do at night?
at night I want to sit in my home with my friends
but who are my friends?
we sit and we drink and we talk and we dance.
in my house there are enough rooms to hide and we hide.
and there is someone who I hide with but this is not his house.
it is my house and he is here.
and he stays.
we drink drinks and we drink coffee.
coffee that we make ourselves and that tastes the way it is supposed to taste
we eat pizza and we eat croque madam et monsieur
we watch movies projected on the wall
we make films
we watch films projected on the wall
we take photographs.
we take off our clothes and take photographs.
We lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling and we put our heads on eachothers backs and lean on eachother’s arms and sleep
Or we read books.
we read books to ourselves and we read aloud.
We tell stories that we want to make into movies and practice persuading.
Weve chosen careers in professional convincing… persuading… and we practice on eachother.
we sit on the counter in the kitchen and wash dishes and wash the floor and we blow bubbles through the holes in the straining spoon.
and then we go out and we wander the streets of the city where we live and we dance in the streets and its summer and we see movies and we see plays, we hear music and we dance.
and sometimes i do it all alone.
and i eat and i wash the dishes and i wash the floor and strip the sheets and i walk the streets alone.
and see the flims alone and i hear the music and i dance alone and i dance with strangers and i wear white and i wear flowers.
and in the morning i go to work where we eat and we dance and we draw and write, play and persuade.
and sometimes we write and draw with our pencils inside our office that doesn’t feel like an office, it feels like a stage and its full of light and sometimes we write and draw with our actors in the streets in the rain... real rain or rain we’ve paid for and set up ourselves.
and sometimes I am inspired on the street and I hand a stranger a card and wait for them to show up at casting the next month only to find that they cannot act but that we would all like to be friends and we invite the stranger out for tea and we write short sonnets together and then months later I write a story about that stranger and make it into a movie and cast someone who can act to play the one who couldn’t.
and there is nothing to do here. she says
there is nothing to do. but only when youre looking for something to do as though there is nothing.
Id rather do nothing, I say, than try all night to do something and then fail.
I look for nothing as though there is something. thats the plan.
look for quiet because everything is spinning all the time.
is it really?
yes!
spinning!!!
and then i step off the wheel and find stillness and back on and find spinning!
and its always spinning.
dont worry.
"i must get out of here. i must get free and in this mind is the key, my key."*
whos mind?
my mind? my mind.
*Agent Smith, The Matrix'
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