Post by Lucien Fell on Jun 6, 2012 23:05:05 GMT -5
In the beginning there is darkness.
Then gray snow and white noise.
Darkness falls again;
Suddenly there is sound, colour and motion. It is all as intense as the confusing blurred image is as jarring as the incoherent noise before once again darkness falls and perhaps with some relief.
Light returns dispelling the darkness, a shadowy frame almost completes absorbed by the bright light steps in to view it is a soft silhouette almost engulfed by the light.
Slowly now the image gains definition and as the scene becomes white balanced a harsh contrast bleaches the colours from the picture leaving shades and hues of black and white.
A man sits alone in a derelict room where the faded and crumbling plaster reveals the framework of the dividing walls. Hew fits his surroundings, a works jeans give way to a lean and muscled frame partially covered by a torn and faded green military style poncho with the hoos thrown back revealing a face carpeted with dark graying stubble. The unkempt hair hanging abandoned around his head sit on his shoulders. But it is the eyes staring in to camera frame, which draw the focus of the viewer. Even though he seems to shift uneasily in the old steel-folding chair his eyes belay any sense of what the cursory imprecision might falsely imply.
“It’s hard t’come up with the words when I’ve kept myself away from anyone worth speakin ‘em to. But now t’seems I’ve been give reason enough t’break the silence.”
“This here’s many things n’I’m ‘cpectin that one o’these made it’s way many more folk than just me, I’m wonderin right what this means t’them who’re gonna be waitin in Oakland. I aint looked at this fact’s are that I thought t’burn this thing the second I figured as what this was. Didn’t though, so there’s something that’s t’be said as t’what this might just mean t’me eh?”
The man in the picture holds up an envelope, grins lamely waving it slightly to show that it is as real as he is. He then takes envelope by the thumb and forefinger of each and looks down at the typed words, the postage and postal mark. Gently he reaches inside and pulls out a neatly folded note but does not open it. He rubs a hand over his rough chin, sighs and taps the note against his knee as he looks if as if some sort of guidance were to be found there.
“Soon s’I look at this it’s done. There aint now guessin or wishin after I know for sure how what’s said in here’s said. T’aint ‘bout money, I got me more n’ can spend n’that’s God’s truth for sure but a bride needn’t just about money I’know that from so much past it done nearly buried me alive the first time ‘round. T’aint gone be ‘bout history I guarantee, that chips done been played n’I got all the value out o’that play any man can hope t’ve got. I’m thinking it’s a name t’go along with the place n’time I done already know. I figure it’s a name cos it can’t anything else far’s’I reckon n’I reckon that out there’s somebody with one o’these just like I’m holding n’it’s got my name on it along with the time n’place for sure, heh. Two marked men y’could say, two strangers s’a sure bet set ‘gainst each but t’aint like neither’s goin t’this unwilling can hardly us condemned if’n it’s gonna be like this, like it was the last time. Here’s a thing t’be considered though, last ‘round had all sorts of worms in the woodwork, had itself a belly full o’somethin t’weren’t right. Gave me cause t’pause and reconsider ‘xactly how n’where I was goin so I took me a differentt road cos o’them issues I had. Felt I’needn’t feel obligated cos others had their fix in, was that kind o’desperate as t’be takin cap in hand at a table I didn’t feel I was any sort o’welcome at. That’s all past n’done I reckon so whether I do do not know the name on this here piece o’paper I’m guessin that stranger’s figurin t’put the same fix on me as I look t’put on him. Can’t play on no grudge ‘gainst a stranger, can’t says I’m easy hating on a man with no name cos I don’t figure there’s a history there as would colour the way I say him any. No judgment laid down, no bias if’n I don’t look on this writing. I keep honest with myself figure I do what I know cos between him n’me I’m the only one I’m ever gonna know same’s I always done. Then I guess that’s how I figure it, there aint no ignorance in this it’s simple n’straight. It only matters that I’m the only one that matters, aint no ego in that aint no pitch neither can’t be if’n I aim t’fix this t’be any kind o’honest, my name’s gotta be the only one that worth the damn if’n it’s gonna be the name called at the end o’the night. So what worth’s it t’me t’keep this, lookit even. Where’s it writ I gotta read this other than somebody wanted me t’know?”
He sits back in the steel chair taking time to catch up on what he has just said. He smiles as he obviously realizes the implications, the destination this particular train of thought is taking him. Looking at the envelope and the address tuped on it he laughs, genuinely amused it seems now.
“Somebody actually fixed t’keep tabs on me a very long time just so’s that one day I’d be put the task o’makin this kind o’choice knowin that I’d’ve t’play this game in my mind. ‘Course that could be just over thinking this’s far as motives’re t’be figured, might just’s well be hope that got this t’me. Blind luck perhaps that n’Old Man might just find this piece o’paper with a name n’a place n’a date n’decide t’be there.”
“So done’s done n’I’ve come out in t’the open after a long time hidden away. I don’t need this.”
He holds up the folded piece of paper and waves to the camera.
“It aint important, I’m important n’I aint allowin what’s on here to mean anything t’me, I aint letting it decide how I’m gonna think or feel. It aint worth that t’me. I know there’s another paper like this, I done said s’much already n’it’s in somebody else’s hands. Thing t’figure is I already know what’s on that other paper, I aint sufferin from any doubt on it. I know it’s got the same time n’place s’this one. I know it’s got my name on it, I know he’s done read it already n’I know he’s been thinking ‘bout my name …. Lucien Fell. All the things I’ve decide ‘gainst actin upon he’s already been doin. He’s been tryin t’figure all the things ‘bout me that I already know n’come t’peace with, what’s in a name’s what’s he’s been so silent ‘bout cos I aint heard nobody call me out as yet, no one has said my name out loud until now n’I done did that myself cos I don’t fear the sound o’it n’know he’s lost any power he’d’ve thought in steppin up t’The Old Man. What’s in a name, I’m figuring right now there’s only one man y’ve got t’ask, the mane whose name aint gonna be getting called out at the end o’this.’
Lucien takes a moment as he discards the envelope, lighter now as if unburden, younger even?
He unfolds the paper with blank backside face up. He licks the pad of his thumb then smears the moisture on the top if the paper. Reaching out to the camera he presses the paper to the camera lens, the mucus adheres to the glass frame and the shot goes dark. Lucien’s shadow moves from behind the paper allowing the light from the open window to flood in and reveal the writing on the paper. It is name, two words only…
Jay Omega
Then gray snow and white noise.
Darkness falls again;
Suddenly there is sound, colour and motion. It is all as intense as the confusing blurred image is as jarring as the incoherent noise before once again darkness falls and perhaps with some relief.
Light returns dispelling the darkness, a shadowy frame almost completes absorbed by the bright light steps in to view it is a soft silhouette almost engulfed by the light.
Slowly now the image gains definition and as the scene becomes white balanced a harsh contrast bleaches the colours from the picture leaving shades and hues of black and white.
A man sits alone in a derelict room where the faded and crumbling plaster reveals the framework of the dividing walls. Hew fits his surroundings, a works jeans give way to a lean and muscled frame partially covered by a torn and faded green military style poncho with the hoos thrown back revealing a face carpeted with dark graying stubble. The unkempt hair hanging abandoned around his head sit on his shoulders. But it is the eyes staring in to camera frame, which draw the focus of the viewer. Even though he seems to shift uneasily in the old steel-folding chair his eyes belay any sense of what the cursory imprecision might falsely imply.
“It’s hard t’come up with the words when I’ve kept myself away from anyone worth speakin ‘em to. But now t’seems I’ve been give reason enough t’break the silence.”
“This here’s many things n’I’m ‘cpectin that one o’these made it’s way many more folk than just me, I’m wonderin right what this means t’them who’re gonna be waitin in Oakland. I aint looked at this fact’s are that I thought t’burn this thing the second I figured as what this was. Didn’t though, so there’s something that’s t’be said as t’what this might just mean t’me eh?”
The man in the picture holds up an envelope, grins lamely waving it slightly to show that it is as real as he is. He then takes envelope by the thumb and forefinger of each and looks down at the typed words, the postage and postal mark. Gently he reaches inside and pulls out a neatly folded note but does not open it. He rubs a hand over his rough chin, sighs and taps the note against his knee as he looks if as if some sort of guidance were to be found there.
“Soon s’I look at this it’s done. There aint now guessin or wishin after I know for sure how what’s said in here’s said. T’aint ‘bout money, I got me more n’ can spend n’that’s God’s truth for sure but a bride needn’t just about money I’know that from so much past it done nearly buried me alive the first time ‘round. T’aint gone be ‘bout history I guarantee, that chips done been played n’I got all the value out o’that play any man can hope t’ve got. I’m thinking it’s a name t’go along with the place n’time I done already know. I figure it’s a name cos it can’t anything else far’s’I reckon n’I reckon that out there’s somebody with one o’these just like I’m holding n’it’s got my name on it along with the time n’place for sure, heh. Two marked men y’could say, two strangers s’a sure bet set ‘gainst each but t’aint like neither’s goin t’this unwilling can hardly us condemned if’n it’s gonna be like this, like it was the last time. Here’s a thing t’be considered though, last ‘round had all sorts of worms in the woodwork, had itself a belly full o’somethin t’weren’t right. Gave me cause t’pause and reconsider ‘xactly how n’where I was goin so I took me a differentt road cos o’them issues I had. Felt I’needn’t feel obligated cos others had their fix in, was that kind o’desperate as t’be takin cap in hand at a table I didn’t feel I was any sort o’welcome at. That’s all past n’done I reckon so whether I do do not know the name on this here piece o’paper I’m guessin that stranger’s figurin t’put the same fix on me as I look t’put on him. Can’t play on no grudge ‘gainst a stranger, can’t says I’m easy hating on a man with no name cos I don’t figure there’s a history there as would colour the way I say him any. No judgment laid down, no bias if’n I don’t look on this writing. I keep honest with myself figure I do what I know cos between him n’me I’m the only one I’m ever gonna know same’s I always done. Then I guess that’s how I figure it, there aint no ignorance in this it’s simple n’straight. It only matters that I’m the only one that matters, aint no ego in that aint no pitch neither can’t be if’n I aim t’fix this t’be any kind o’honest, my name’s gotta be the only one that worth the damn if’n it’s gonna be the name called at the end o’the night. So what worth’s it t’me t’keep this, lookit even. Where’s it writ I gotta read this other than somebody wanted me t’know?”
He sits back in the steel chair taking time to catch up on what he has just said. He smiles as he obviously realizes the implications, the destination this particular train of thought is taking him. Looking at the envelope and the address tuped on it he laughs, genuinely amused it seems now.
“Somebody actually fixed t’keep tabs on me a very long time just so’s that one day I’d be put the task o’makin this kind o’choice knowin that I’d’ve t’play this game in my mind. ‘Course that could be just over thinking this’s far as motives’re t’be figured, might just’s well be hope that got this t’me. Blind luck perhaps that n’Old Man might just find this piece o’paper with a name n’a place n’a date n’decide t’be there.”
“So done’s done n’I’ve come out in t’the open after a long time hidden away. I don’t need this.”
He holds up the folded piece of paper and waves to the camera.
“It aint important, I’m important n’I aint allowin what’s on here to mean anything t’me, I aint letting it decide how I’m gonna think or feel. It aint worth that t’me. I know there’s another paper like this, I done said s’much already n’it’s in somebody else’s hands. Thing t’figure is I already know what’s on that other paper, I aint sufferin from any doubt on it. I know it’s got the same time n’place s’this one. I know it’s got my name on it, I know he’s done read it already n’I know he’s been thinking ‘bout my name …. Lucien Fell. All the things I’ve decide ‘gainst actin upon he’s already been doin. He’s been tryin t’figure all the things ‘bout me that I already know n’come t’peace with, what’s in a name’s what’s he’s been so silent ‘bout cos I aint heard nobody call me out as yet, no one has said my name out loud until now n’I done did that myself cos I don’t fear the sound o’it n’know he’s lost any power he’d’ve thought in steppin up t’The Old Man. What’s in a name, I’m figuring right now there’s only one man y’ve got t’ask, the mane whose name aint gonna be getting called out at the end o’this.’
Lucien takes a moment as he discards the envelope, lighter now as if unburden, younger even?
He unfolds the paper with blank backside face up. He licks the pad of his thumb then smears the moisture on the top if the paper. Reaching out to the camera he presses the paper to the camera lens, the mucus adheres to the glass frame and the shot goes dark. Lucien’s shadow moves from behind the paper allowing the light from the open window to flood in and reveal the writing on the paper. It is name, two words only…
Jay Omega