I have this habit of writing titles that spring up in my head – about things in my head – wordless, for me to remember to talk to – later. Every once in a while, I forget what the title was intended to entitle, so I re-intend and re-crown my beloved titles to other actors and other scripts. This is one of those cases. I am not so sure what exactly about anonymity that turned me on. I am not sure anymore, why I wanted to fuck it. But I wrote a new script, and called on some nice words to play and together, we made this – in an attempt to reclaim unachieved glories. Enjoy or don’t, just read for now.
Screw ghosts. Screw avatars. Screw screen-names. Screw pen-names. Screw attempting to be someone else. Screw the need to attempt to be someone else. Screw the fact that sometimes we do not accept that we are more than one. Screw everything that claims being real. Screw it not because it’s lying, but because it’s too screwed up to notice that there is nothing to it, really. Screw it.
Little regrets of everyday, but it’s okay. It can be nothing else. Blunt is boring, but blunt is there, and people understand it. So it comes to this: do I want it understood?
Is the future anonymous, or just unknown? I mean – I don’t know it, and it’s not like it will ever show itself to me. It becomes the present, and then maybe I would smell it – but the future, never. Seriously, and I must believe in tomorrow? And tomorrow never dies? But tomorrow is dead to me – now, yesterday is more alive – for I have seen it, made it – parts of it - thank god.. and god? Sorry?
See, I also have this other habit, unfinished business… constant lack of closure, and for that – I’ll shut up now. Screw shutting up.