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| films:� siphoning off of dreams into celluloid, until our pre-dawn ours are filled with credits and stale popcorn sleep of unreal violence.� watchers of our own hijacked desires, formulaic fallout of limbic projection, hollywood humming of hypnogogues, as we are screened and seared of aberration, fed abbreviations, icons, of or previous imaginings.� pressure valve, valium, catharsis of convenience, don't even have to move, just buy a ticket, trust us and don't think too hard, just look how beautiful there all the things you need no longer try to be.� In a theater there was a grandfather near the back, who would blow smoke from a cigarette, not watching the film, but making shapes in the cone of fast clicking zombie light.� helixes and galaxy, he preferred his own show of three dimensions.� it's about that, I think, the space between the source and screen, between what is said and what is seen. | ||