WEBVTT

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The next one is called "Movie".

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Do any of you take
delight in going

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to the movies on a
beautiful sunny day?

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[LAUGHTER]

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This is like going to the
movie on a beautiful sunny day.

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[BACKGROUND NOISE]

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"Movie"

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"Exit.

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Blood red beacon in the dark.

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The screen gray like smoke,
gray as a scrim of ash,

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the red curtains swirling
round it like flames.

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Red curtains, red walls,
red seats, and carpet.

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Even our faces under
red reflected shadows,

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me and two kids, and a man.

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Sunny outside, unbearable.

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Sunny after five
days of rain, the day

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demanding to be
entered and filled,

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the clouds having dropped
from its enormous shoulders,

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and the duty to
be present for it.

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To say, my, what
a fine summer day.

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[LAUGHTER]

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The locked off fifth
of cinema five,

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pinky masquerading as a hand.

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I went in, I waited for
the flashes and burns

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of another blockbuster, for
the requisite explosions,

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and hit for the red
aesthetic slaughter.

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And the two kids,
what did they want?

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A little chaos, a
little blood to make

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their day, their
unpredictable fragmented day?

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And the man, what did he want?

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Oh long tunnel out of
despair, distraction

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of someone else's story.

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But the waiting, the silence,
the red, like a dark,

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like a lullaby, like a cave.

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Because wasn't there the urge
to something sacred in it,

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the cars, and kids,
and hysterical sirens

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unable to penetrate the
air conditioned vessel

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where we sprawled or
slumped, mute and violent.

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Prima materia for
the chemic operations

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of thunder and light in
the pitch man's hands,

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Ooh Arnold, Disney,
mafia, 2-step,

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make us, make us be
something else for a while,

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or nothing else for a while.

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A series of stunning
self destructions.

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Point A where we
slit our throats,

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point B where the paper
shredder churns us up, and C

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the slash, the cuffs, the gun,
all evil bloodied and done

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like a dark, like a lullaby.

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To sleep, the blood urge
to the drum, the dance,

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the hypnoid figures made alive
in the fire of crowding torches

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wavering the stink of the kill.

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The spirit and the
spirit pictures

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come, when there was something
there to lick it all up,

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something to pray to,
to fear, to appease.

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It was sunny, unbearable,
after five days of rain

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I couldn't stand it, the riot.

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Good morning so beautiful,
I went to the movies,

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my collusion, consolation.

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20 minutes early before
the first bad preview

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rated G for its violence
and complete lack of sex.

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Rated G for us, the general
audience, me and two kids,

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and a desolate looking man.

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We went in, we waited
for the flashes and burns

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of the next great escape
from the tyrannous day

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called thinking and feeling in
the locked off fifth of cinema

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five.

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The three black blocks
on the dark red walls,

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a plastic fear of duty to
give up the burden a while.

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To be pinned on, perceiver,
god of the kingdom.

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