Inside of a carpenter's box
Sweating out of my cheeks
Grumbling like a hound
Feeling like a small chip of bacon
Deciding whether to drink wine
I just brushed my teeth

I'll drink water, wash that toothpaste out
Poison and I are acclimated at this point
Coffee or Cigarettes, you name it
I'm figuring out what this butter knife is doing
Sitting next to my computer with a serrated edge
I used it to stir my tea

Gathering my thoughts I recall that I sit here
My thoughts are interrupted by a siren
Why does the siren always seem to call for me
Writing way too fast

Seven ages ago. That was 15. This is 22.
I miss twenty. I wrote freely and innocently at 20.
I lied about my innocence at 22, but the memory remained clean.
Ah, good riddance.
Let failures rouch themselves off to the plains to die.

Investing crackers into my mouth

To Orson Welles

To George Welles, who fell before he was born I write,
We barely missed a chance to know one another,
But there was never a chance. I should be
As free as you,
I think sadly that I very well may be exactly.
And you were too. As free as you were. You had to know that
"Power" is only temporary, but your freedom remains.


Who sings your name now? But how many times they sing. Whenever they sing, you twist, you twist their song. Who could have given you enough money to make your masterpiece?

I am not you... you, the man of great artistry.
You are so full-chested
In all your roles
Oh evenheaded
Dead or alive
So uneven

Not always the best final products but ever the instinct,
Inventing in order to tell.
Don't fuck with my editing. You fuck with my editing,
and you are a douchebag without a name who makes me look like you, Hollywood.

You have taught me nothing
I could not have learned from any of the great films
Following yours, American Mercury.
An American hungarian...
a Frenchman!
And an painter in Ireland, supporting yourself
Leaving paintings in the houses where you stayed...

Cut off by your drinking and, of course, your gen... and, absolutely, by Hollywood. Was it wrong for RKO to give so much to one man?
Did he do wrong to his office by accepting? Did he not succeed?

Your subsequent failures are your greatest credits.
All in images.

(I wish that Hollywood had been better to you)

I like Mr. Arkadin, the film itself (images, baby!)
The lead actor's a bit of a bore.

Always a fan, loved the wine commercial.

Keep in touch,

TCA

The last drive of its kind

Shake
Jitter bug song
Candle weeps
Wax
Dissolves
Head burns
Rummed out
To the stem