If the answers were obvious, news would get around

In Drafts, Film, Hautvoir, Music, photography on December 22, 2013 at 8:43 am

Crash-landed into sleep at about eight thirty last night. Brief wake-up around two-ish to reacquaint myself with genus and species of birth, not to mention  general geo-location. Re-emerged after seven am. The marathon resumes at eleven thirty and no one takes a serious interest in agreed-upon hours. If they did,  photos with Santa wouldn’t happen at the same time as the Free Christmas Carols at the Auditorium.*

Long bouts of savoring peace and quiet. As in: looking at the screen, or the wall, or the ceiling, and feeling blessed I don’t need to move a single limb right this minute. What people on vacation experience during those briefs seconds on the beach when they’re not harried by booking concerns, reservation snarl-ups, sand flies, gastrointestinal distress, fundamental misunderstandings with their one and only love?  Something like that, minus the expense.

Street scenes. Snappish grandmothers ordering small children to SIT on Santa’s knee and SMILE (the exception in yesterday’s crowd but even one would have been too many). A tiny shrimp of a man with his broad and commanding girl friend. “No, listen,” he says, “I need to know what’s happening with us.” She’s large enough to crush him between her breasts, and looks annoyed. Teen-aged girls flaunting their brand new bodies with only the vaguest notion of the commotions they set off in their wake. Men with the hard palms of manual workers. Others with the limp fish hand of the never-employed. A small boy racing to Santa as if to  his place of refuge.

Faces. Expressions.

Given the crowd and the general condition of the town, I couldn’t help thinking of a film I haven’t seen  yet. We’ll be showing it in Gaillac at the end of January. Title: You’ll Never Walk Alone, a documentary done by Jerome de Missolz and Eveline Ragot about the music scene in Liverpool. If my new computer gets set up and running this week, I may get to watch movies on my screen without computer crash-landings.

How any of this ties in with my writing? Through this basic question: what can a poor boy or girl do besides play rugby, make babies, loiter on street corners or  join a rock-n-roll band?

Allez. Walk on, and so on.

* No photos during Christmas Carols. Photos resume on Tuesday.


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