No Need For Pal
By ice rivers
Does writing about filler automatically yield to more filler? When we admit that we've got nothing better to do than to write filler about filler are we doing an artistic thing, perhaps a Sgt. Pepper thing or are we just being immature.
Words that stay beg the question of filler. They can not be completely forgotten because HERE THEY ARE. Filler means we're walking around semi-awake, ignoring the books on the shelf until for some reason we pick one up, open it and THERE THEY ARE.
A few times each day or month or lifetime, we wake up and whatever is going on when we do wake up goes directly into our memories.
Earlier this week I saw George Pal's sci-fi classic War of the Worlds. I've seen the movie at least five times (once with George Pal himself sitting near me in the audience). As I watched it, the movie started to ooze out of my subconscious which is working memory that's been on lifelong coffebreak.
One scene in particular cught my attention. Gene Barry plays the geius scientist type guy who is destined to figure out the vulnerabilities of the invaders and save the planet in the nick of time etc.
During the the recovered scene, Barry and his scream and team girlfriend find refuge in an abandoned farmhouse. A flying saucer crashes into that farmhouse and nearly flattens the structure. Apparently during the collision Barry gets kinocked unconscious because a subsequent scene begins with Barry, recovering with perfect hair and complete lucidity, asking his screamer "how long have i been out?" to which she responds chirpily "about six hours."
I tried to imagine myself being knocked unconscious in a flattened farmhouse by a berserk flying saucer and waking up without a moan, without a stammer but with a prefectly phrased question like "how long have I been out?" Then I tried to imagine myself with perfect hair. I couldn't imagine ANY of these situations happening to me.
Then I remembered about my concept of filler and how I must have been awake to invent it and to realize how long I've been asleep. I reflected upon the feeling of waking up at the split second before a new stone enters the kaleidoscope of memory. I recalled how immediately before I saw my wife for the first time, I suddenly became completely, lucidly, moanlessly awake. I also became aware that she too was totally awake at that moment as well. I had been out of love for quite a spell leading up to that moment so I believe in that first instant that I woke up and recognized Lynn, that a question very similar to "how long have I been out?" flashed through the doldrum of my loveless extended coffeebreak.
Then I was back, ot of the shack, and building memories that I hold to this very instant. Memories that I can even type out and eternalize because HERE THEY ARE.
As I recall my hair looked pretty good that night, not perfect mind you but not too bad.
I didn't need George Pal to fall in love.
Aside from George Pal himself, I don't think any of us do.
We simply wakeup one night, amazed to find ourselves in an abandoned, flattened farm house reeking of coffee.
We wonder "how long have I been out?"
We get the hell out of the farmhouse as if it never existed.
We start to remember. Some of that memory is the future and finally
HERE IT IS.