I watched part of Klaus Kinski’s life project, “Paganini”, with an open mind and an instilled respect for Kinski as an artist.
I couldn’t finish the film- that was a few months back.
Watching the trailer again, I wonder about my own views of sexuality and intentions in film.
As a woman who has always prided myself on being open- especially in the arts- I have come to the realization that I did not give Kinski’s passion project a chance because I was disturbed (distracted, a little disgusted, judgmental) by the amount of sexually explicit scenes and fuck power that ignited this “biopic”-if you will- on Nicolo Paganini.
Who am I to judge Kinski and the wonderful actress, Debora Kinski? His film encompasses most, if not all, of what I want to see in films: natural light, flowing music, little dialogue, enticing living (not acting), purity, and life.
Possibly, we all do not have as much of an open mind as we used to think. Dare to push boundaries of the mind, of the spirit, of the heart.
In process of writing my truth, my visions of this world. What we (we as humans) experience emotionally- I feel detached from humanity, yet I feel my emotions and experiences are common.
I need to write it, and I’m going to film it.
Albuquerque, New Mexico- traveling soon. More soon. Peace
The self in two, one in two. Divided attention, divided wants and results. Human lust divided into incongruence. Divided two, two for zero.
Uncertainty lingering shadow fixed upon image and reality. Reality is self, image is, image is? Image is what?
The divided is self-serving and no motivation for living.
Animals are not divided, nature is not divided. We want right, we want, we want, we want. Divided until end.
Passage from Bête Noire:
Ever wonder what occurs yesterday? What happens to the girl in 1969? Blue bell bottom jeans tight on a taunt ass, frilly gypsy brown see-through top. Trying to fit in, a bunny cupcake. Sunny grass smelling of wheat. Mud slipping sloshing. She wonders about 1977- true love awaiting tendrils curly perm. He will zip down her spandex jumpsuit to the chest crevice. All jumps out organically, fresh sea, fresh sky, fresh fruit. When everything is crisp. White leather bounded together through brown interlaces. Night fever keeps wailing slick city streets. They give orgasms like no other. Strings free or attached. Rush sensation like we’ll never grow up.
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Floozy boozy musey Holly Would Land architecture speedway lines squares tumbling weeds flashing lights trying to achieve brightness circular wings soaring birds restless mind fuck restless legs restless crotch we’re all on speed but stay away from the crack cocaines, lepers, jumpers, anyone who’s poor in nickels the root of all evil, Judgment prevails and seeks justice for the lepers Moon tide blackened raccoon eyes who’s weak now numb senses rapid viper father of the past please brother, I just want to feel anything feeling’s for the rich in soul until God says otherwise and gives a good shaking scars prevent growth we’re all in this together get the noose take my pain from the wretched place cut into little pieces get me to the land of Pearl so close remember, King of Son, Sun sweeping water cascading nakedness the only innocence dream in the eyes of children that were never to be just a mythical thought- remember the light, future remembrance dreams flying through person-to-person exploit those with a pretty pat blonde- work it honey work it- slide down into the pants and media’s berry bursting change-up lust no time for an unkempt chest, boy-man wandering sterile like you should have a needle into an existential dilemma nothing Gestalt can save you from reaching believing in land of the desert and honey what we worship is nothing but a circus freak show faker the more you believe you’re all wired for cognitive dissonance chaotic religion simple spirituality less is less keep reaching begin.
I found his shirt
wrinkled, slightly torn, tan with good taste.
smells from afar sweet musty- gone in seconds
I found this shirt
among lost smiles yearning for something unique
button-up, rolled-up sleeves
straight shape without a tinge of limpness
I showered it upon my bosom
and let it sit
for hours upon hours
smiling, thinking upon the absurdity of loving cloth
but it was of him.