Monday, 3 December 2007

Silent movies.

I'm a black and white movie. There is no sound. The film grain is pronounced, the visual scratched and scraped away with age, the characters melancholy and desperate. I can walk around the iron gate in the snow and find myself in the cemetery and out pops Dracula and I made my 'surprised' and then 'scared' face before fainting right into his arms.

And everyone laughs and goes home, safe in their colorized, monster-free world. Their music-filled, beautiful world.

For the first time this afternoon, I took my laptop into the pantry and sat down on the floor and shut the doors and played a movie file of Jacob singing his silly karaoke in the kitchen, using a wooden spoon for a microphone, eyebrows knitted in mock concentration. I laughed as the camera zoomed in crazily, attempting to focus on a moving target and then lost it when the song ended and he told me to turn off the camera and come kiss him.

One should always save the total mental and emotional breakdowns for that little spot on the floor right next to the basket holding twenty pounds of russet baking potatoes.