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Thursday, July 19, 2007

Almost Cinematic: a short writing

Almost Cinematic

Waiting for all this to disappear, pull the curtains open.
Allow the cast to reveal themselves, they’ve done one helluva job, I want to clap and whistle for them. One in particular, she seems lit by a spotlight but every scene she was in, the streetlight dimmed. The story made her sound like a whore, always out late, always smoking cigarettes, but the way she smoked them made it seem almost elegant, as if I were missing out by not lighting one up in my chair. She had a steady man, but they did things in the street that the others had not, kissing in the rain against the wet brick of the alley just past the bus stop bench. I’m not sure what the story was even about. Maybe it tells you in the pamphlet.

Intermission comes and everyone goes to the lobby, I stay where I’m at, I can see her just past the curtain in the back, still in character, she’s lighting up another smoke and I want to light it for her, but I’m in the empty audience without a lighter or a match. Her lips sticky red stick to the end, it hangs off her lower lip I watch her breathe in the smoke and realize I’m not breathing anymore. The empty audience has returned, popcorn conversations, sodas and slippery palms, these maggots missed the best part of the show. A secret show.

I wondered if they were even acting, perhaps this was life to them, and we in the audience were really on display, we were the phonies being quiet and polite, dressed in Sunday’s best even though it was the middle of the week. She hasn’t been onstage in a while, I’m more than a little concerned, I do hope she has a speaking part coming up soon; her voice was a little raspy, not too high and soft around the edges. Finally, a bus stop scene with no bus, she sat alone waiting, smoking, kind of nervous but in a subtle fashion. A new face on stage walking toward the bench, she looks up, blowing hot smoke into the misty air, he stops, they talk, says he’s going to catch a flick at the cinema, she should go, he fishes around in his pocket for a smoke, she lights it. They walk. A narrator is speaking; I don’t hear what he’s saying. I watch her walk off stage as they close the curtain, everyone stands and applauds. I clap at a pace three yards behind the crowd. They’ve really out done themselves this time, especially her, lady like the wind.