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mallorys_camera
JDK is in the flush again and hired me back. This means I will be working three (3) trois jobs. But barely managing to keep the bills paid.
It's the rent on the Little Store, of course. Crazy and usurious.
The score from A Bande A Parte keeps going through my head along with Godard's aerial pans of a vanished Paris, the working class Paris of the early nineteen sixties, a Paris I never saw. Apparently it was the great film composer Michel Legrand's final score. Legrand is something of a master at evoking nostalgia. I don't know enough about music theory to analyze the response but it has something to do with scales in minor keys.
I'm feeling incredibly untethered at the moment. As though if I didn't think very hard about the weights at the bottom of the string, I would float away into the stratosphere. I had an incompetent dentist once who almost killed me with nitrous oxide – the valve on the canister wasn't reading right or something. Nitrous oxide is the way to die, let me tell you. That feeling was something like this, your mind floating away towards or perhaps dissolving into images, some your own, some collective.
The thing that kept me there was Max. I kept thinking, Max is important, no one will give him what you're going to give him.
Note shift into the third person.
Just about that time – seconds? minutes? – the incompetent dentist's zealous assistant discovered the overdose and began feeding me oxygen.
The thing that keeps me here now is Robin. You're not giving him what you want to give him, says the voice. But you'll figure it out. You will!
This is about as close to hearing God's voice as I'm ever going to get. I suppose.
Anna Karina has aged well. But she's not Anna Karina anymore.
