Footnotes at the top.
1. Written some years back.
2. Unfinished, at the end, by choice.
3. A poem within a poem
4. Frederik: Frederik Nietzsche
5. Salome: Salome Lou Weber (Sociologist, Nietzsche's contemporary. He had a crush on her)
6. The screenwriter (the one in quotation marks)
7. His leading lady (the other one in quotation marks)
8. A short ahistorical journey in history.
9. Martin and Jacques: Martin Heidegger and Jacques Derrida (Both offered lengthy interpretations on Nietzsche's work)
10. Narrator's voice: Not in quotation marks
“For you and only you
I will write my best story ever.
An epic melodrama of love and sacrifice
with a didactic effect simmering throughout”,
said the screenwriter
“As long as I keep my summer dresses
and all Es”,
said she, ever so gently
in contrast to her projected likeance
on the giant screen.
“Focus on body language”,
“of bodies in a crowd of bodies...
Close up on her body
revealing two sarcastic hands
accepting a wrapped package.”
- Here is my Zarathustra, Salome -
- Make sure it doesn't fall
in enemy's hands -
“Zarathustra had already fallen, my love,
victim to history's ploys.
Deconstructed, defeathered, shivering,
expanded by her hand's soft squeeze
perplexed and wavering,
unsignifying and insignificant...
Nothing more was said
no other detail mentioned
Camera now focuses on the cold
slowly closing on the Nazi patrol.”
the screenwriter gestured ecstatically
enchanted by his narration of the scenes
surprised and fascinated by
(almost in love with) his own voice.
as camera rises above the patrol
and we get a glimpse of a giant Big Btother figure,
a simple, yet unyielding condemnation of...”
“I don't like my clothes!”,
she cut him off coldly, abruptly.
“long dress, heavy coat, the boots, the hat, the gloves,
it's not me, it's not the real me...”
He rested his head on her round breasts
“The real you does not exist, not yet anyway”
whispering voice of even lower depths,
“I'm creating it... I'm creating the real you...”
“Got to go!”
She was already turning the engine on.
“Screw the bitch!”,
he pleaded with the phone
that never rang all day.
“Why speak on third person?
Direction lost, directness missing.
I will dare for you, Salome,
I will address myself to you
naked, unpretentious, maskless
I will speak to you, Salome!
Salome, your L lies low, your L lies, period.
Your L looms, lurks, lulls my fears
and, yet, Salome,
your L lures me
your L I lust
for your L I lie
for your L I linger...”
“I lisp loose lingo in your ear lobe...”
“That night on the rooftop, under the moonlight
Frederik did not offer her a single glance.
He sat seemingly bored through her constant
and trivial chatter
though, really, he was wallowing in despair
unable to deliver the appropriate aphorism
to finish her off...”
“You don't hear a word I say...” - “I hear... Boring...”
“These scenes define our love” - “And, where am I?”
“You are Salome, my Salome!” - “Why give me another name?”
“We travel history together” - “I have my own car...”
“You misuse your potential” - “I can only offer momentary intention”
“Emotional abuse is your game” - “You taught me how to play!”
“I will re-write the Nazi patrol scene.
No allusion to Big Brother,
instead, what terrifies most!
Absence of anyone in control
as everything is self-controling.”
Absorbed but not absorbing
Day of the shoot, alone, horizontal, silent.
Absorbed in images
he could never imagine without a certain elation -
the driving force of his creation.
A smoke filled room across the street from the Winter Palace.
Twelve and one Bolshevics arrested by history
arranging its order, adjusting its details, smoking their pipes.
Frederik loving Salome on the window-sill
her soft cries of ecstacy beguiling his ears
- Now! Seize the moment! It's yours for the taking!
- Now never is! It only eternally recurs...
“Close-up on Frederik, surrounded by her mocking laughter!
He snatches Zarathustra away from her
he opens it on page fifty-two
calmly to her he turns his back
his soul in his voice sinks
- Zarathustra, the seeker of truth, the lover of wisdom,
the rebel wanderer, a king shall never be!
“Slowly zoom outside the Winter Palace
on a crowd of proletarians
considering the concept of economic over-determination
as their frozen fingertips grope your warm and naked body...
He shook his head much in disgust
“This posture of yours on the window-sill in ecstacy
is so fake, so false, so untrue
A compilation of cliches from the commerce of orgasms.
I must rethink the whole scene!...”
7/16 to 7/22
Not a single thought
Not a single word
Not a single sound.
The screenwriter rethought, re-evaluated, re-formed, re-addressed the issue.
The screenwriter recapitulated – never again did he reaffirm his convictions
Never again did he hold Epiphanies to be
the sort he thought a function of pigeon brains.
Now, illuminated he was by sporadic, often apocalyptic, yet elliptic visions.
7/26 to 8/3
One more Epiphany
Astonishing change of attitude.
Even he noticed on himself.
He made a note of it
8/5 to 9/16
A single, unexpected and unwelcomed
uninterrupted and unending
“Here's how it is”,
the screenwriter said,
“the last scene – that's the one that matters
About the rest, later... maybe... possibly... we'll see...
The last scene occurs early seventeenth century
in the woods – some forest in Alsatia
at a cold winter dawn.
“Frederik in a duel, Martin his witness.
Salome his willing and excited adversary,
Jacques her witness...
“Frederik declares his intention
to be the last to shoot – and in blindfold at that.
Salome Lou chooses her pistol presenting her credentials......
Written by takis1917
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