Eric Rohmer, Je ne sais quoi Amerku?

    Ah, to make a movie just like Rohmer except about the Philly shit. Except I see that he's not making the movies about love, like it appears, but so much more. Just to be there now, talking, breathing, beeing in a Rohmer movie seeming to be about love... Or the Agnes Vardes one about the 3 love children in Cali. Same thing. The becoming, the beeing, the singing. Movies as singing of the eyes.Within that space - and time. Time X space. Or perhaps its Space X emiT and somehow emiT seems endlessly endless. Sendless. On the edge of boring, mundane. The knife's edge. The cliff's edge. I mean, you just don't even know what is going to happen next. I mean, love is claustophobic and liberating at the same time. Bursting forth into small miniturizing differences moment by momento.

    A singing machine, movie making as. Of a particular reality, dense as love. Multifarious as the socio-political itself. As above so below. Slowly but surely unraveling the socio-politico (SP), the special, one knotty naughty word at a time, these words are meant for thine ears only, all secrets are true, a philosophical quest if there ever was one. The drama is a springboard, wound up.

    

    But Amerka, the SP w/o the cosmic consciousness at all, is seemingly a harder nut to crack. At least for me, having not tried yet. Should not all art be a cheerleading section for any and every creature to bee? And if not, is not that the definition of 'dead art'? The singing machine (SM) attacks Amerka, sinks within, is submerged there in, was actually previously captured and held therein against SM's will. And yet will vibrate still -if not vote! A tell tale heart, put on your dancing shoes. Please don't leave me...

Amerko,

the giganto question

mark!

Is

the radical gentleness

possible?

 

A walking talking advertisement for the French New Wave to return again.   A way to get into the psycho-socio-politico.