film

It is fun to feel important.  Right before the scientist left for Chicago and right after he got back from Berlin, we met at the Swallow Cafe a block away from my house.  I walked in, it was shocking to see him, and I wished in a way that we could just meet like two pieces of cardboard, just a meeting, no feelings, no nothing, nothing important on the table.  Just trash.  Just a street corner, about to tossed into a pile of rotting materials, and who cares.  No harm. No foul.  A moment like the boxes on the corner of the Bushwick streets, the ones that the natural food bodega has tied together and piled on the sidewalk.  We were done caring the fruit to the market to be sold.  We had held our bounty together, our purpose.  And then a strong dutiful man folded us up, smushes out all the parts that can hold fruit, and stacks us up with string.  Flat. We are just proximity things at this point.  Just the fact that at one time we were capable of great things, of holding so much.  The tomatoes.  The cucumbers.  The avocados.  We delivered this bounty shipped in from all over the country, all over the world.  It was remarkable what we gathered into that store, the flavor of the ground in Mexico, on its way to a table where a family would cut it open, each person eating just a piece of the whole.  I miss those times of fruitful sharing.  I was not pleased to feel so empty, mechanical, useless, so, just, taking care of business.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

She walks into her ex-lovers hotel room. Her brief case is out, the papers are there to be signed. We have seen the encounter of the two lovers, though lesbians, eating fruit earlier in the film, a shared avocado, split between the two as a sign for pregnancy. the knife dividing the fruit, feeding each other the slippery bits, finally kissing and passing the seed back and forth between their mouths. Now we see the reaction on the main characters face, she is shocked and scared to encounter the lover now without the rite of passion. She sees in fast-forward a montage of the avocado being grown from a seed to a plant to a fruit in fast motion, picked by farmers, sorted in a factory, flown to the united states, shipped in crates, put in a supper market, picked up by the lover, given into her mouth, shot again of the full crate, shot again from many angles of the crate being squished, tied, thrown behind a dumpster. stacked. We pull back, shot after shot, showing more and more of the location of the trash, the shit pile of nothingness, the behind the store, the unaesthetic, non-poetic, disposable. each pull back can even come with a title of things noticed. perhaps this character notices something always, hyper observant. Maybe the lover at one moment is even depicted as an avocado, and then as a box. sitting there on the end of the bed. could be photoshoped collage very 2D from a still.

I can make-up a pen name, a nom de plume, and be free, always to to interviews with a mask on my face or something like Banksy or The Residence