Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Celluloid Statisticians

Certain details notice us before we do them. The sigh of the wastebasket as it catches the condom. Or some random breath that trundles over their lips. Too bored to inhale again. There's so much to learn about someone in the lapse between making the call and waiting for the food to be delivered.

How hungry they are. How long they can stand it. The way they'll remember you after it's over. An earnest fuck. A callous friend.

Certain details confess themselves at the most inopportune of moments. During a blow job. In the midst of an orgasm. The gauze slips from the lens. The real picture snatches its way into the film before you can stop yourself from pressing the button.

The real picture. All the details about yourself you never wanted to know. Irrevocably permanent.

Skin becomes a priest of sorts. Soiled confessional that names your penance. Face by face. Dick by dick. Until the blood is wine again. A thoughtless solvent. And you feel better.

3 comments:

Cocaine Jesus said...

blimey. that is a bit brutal.

Enemy of the Republic said...

I second that. But brutal can work wonders.

Shyma Shetty said...

The real picture. All the details about yourself you never wanted to know. Irrevocably permanent.

Two words: Ugly, Fantastic