Journal of Pirate Lingo*
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* not an actual journal
of pirate lingo
03.11.04 - 9:54 a.m.
Last night when I walked home from BART, I listened to "Aurora En Pekin" by Marc Ribot. Jazz guitar, drums and bass, very mellow and reflective.
This time the music put me into a different movie, the closing scene. I was a character walking out of the train station, out of the film forever. The camera panned to an overhead view, taking in the larger picture as I walked up and out. Little details, like the guy putting a box of Corazon tequilla on the BART turnstile. The ripe redness of the heart on the box. The lovers ascending the escalator, his hand in her back pocket. The camera panned wider and wider, and I saw the entire city block, bustling with life, as I receded into the credits.
In the movies things end nicely like that. The character is gone and you don't have to deal with what happens next and next and next. This is why any movie is better than life, yet no movie can ever approximate life. I am faced with the paradox of wanting to be both the star of the show and a passive observer.
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