How We Hang

I am no tarot card expert but I have come to this conclusion:

The Hanged Man card is most representational of the Film Extra. A modern deck could include a card called Film Extra and it would still be all about surrender, non-action, yielding…

Extras are things fluctuating between living beings and set props- Between subject and object- stalled out between heaven and earth. They are ‘bound’ hurriedly in costume and makeup then left hang around waiting. When they find a comfort zone something is undoubtedly changed and they are forced to redefine their comfort levels yet again. They are able to see the value of hanging around. Their vantage points are always unusual, surreal.

Many of my days since the beginning of this year have gone into being “awake” and present in this place of suspension. Ready and waiting no matter what the hour. Stuck on the set. Or in holding- which is never too far from the set.

My reward for this? I play make-pretends with famous-er people who remain as aloof as possible. But then I get to meet a whole host of other folks in the same holding patterns.

My fellow extras, unlike the famous-er people, are get-to-know-able. We spend twelve (and often many more) hours out of a day together sans internet connection. What else can you do but bond?

A lot of sharing happens anyway without social media: stories, jokes (of the delightfully lowest quality), business plans, interpersonal dramas, cigarettes. Then some where in there we experience being placed and directed on set.

We extras are never considered actors; not even part of the crew. But, begging your pardon Gentle Readers, fuck you -all you production targ dren who uphold pointless hierarchical systems. Systems which keep extras at a sub-human status level. Is the Hanged Man treated as a lesser Major Arcana? I think not.

If you sit me in the sun (I hate being in the sun bloody sunshine!) to “enjoy” a meal made of food I cannot even put in my mouth, then this is acting. I am an actor pretending the sun does not effect me, pretending to dine on “food.”

I am not a field-hand, a pet, or child. Nor am I an idiot. I do notice when the ‘umbrella boy’ does not give shade to everyone sitting at the same blasted table, under the same yellow hot sun. I do see the trays of food and drinks brought around to everyone else but extras.

How will this dynamic be broken down so that we become more equal players together? Will there be a revolution for us in the coming months? I can only hope. Injustice is injustice. Especially for us who are now known well enough by face if not by name on the set.

Apart from the conviviality, at chance moments we retreat into solitary activities: sleeping, reading or, in my case, writing. Con tanto tiempo en mis manos, I don’t want it to carelessly flit from me without some record of what transpired behind the scenes- beside the scenes is more accurate. (¡Si-món!) Memory is less than reliable and we are not allowed to have recording devices with us. I also just wanted to keep up the writing habit in me. It’s easier to scrawl phrases than to even do any stretches in my fligging uncomfortable camo pants, military grade fanny pack and ploddy-clod stumble boots. Escribo en un cuaderno y there amid my endless remarks about being mentally incapable of conjuring language to express my experiences, I do manage to come up with salvageable kernels of poetry.

Here’s a is light revision of something written while at a holding location; during an unusual weather event:

Adrenal burnout

Feeling nothing when the cup of drug hits

Not even sure if it has hit

A ball bounces off the tarp

Missed marks

 

Mist today

Whets my awe

The Ocean has heard my railings against the Sun

He sends a fog to sneak around these now green hills

My eyes open to inhale that abundance of green

Irises can open easier and peer through

Shifting, obscuring grey tones

Without excess radiation burning them

The whole of my form retreats from its most expanded borders

Chilled, relieved

Greedy, I breathe water vapors

Horses whinny in the middle distance

They graze as muted silhouettes

Human chatter rises and falls from around the tents

Of those sounds I was heard

 

The frisbee flies

Frisbee and flies

Baseball catch and

Throw

Fog off the Pacific

Around my shoulders

 

Raven wings around my head

A Grate Full

{ s elf }

A Grate Full

-of lint or ash or wet, dead leaves… or something pleasant maybe.

can you find something pleasant in a grate? or do grates just grate you.

In lieu of a rant post (because tis the fourth year designated for ranting) here below is a collection of words, a listing that- that I thought would be more appropriate than some half crazed explosion of overpowering emotions squeezed into the shapes of symbols and stuffed in between the gaps of those symbols arranged into words and sentences. I understand that sort of display is easily scorned and laughed off- due to misconstrued facts or something. So. As this is the manufactured season (day) of thanks, I thought I’d display a bemused image of the s elf with #nofilter. Because that is an expected and customary thing to do. And then express some gratefulnesses; in no particular order.

i am grateful for the green fruit and vegetable juice that will sustain me through my fast today as i give thanks and not glut on thanks.

i am grateful to have learned what it means to be a christian and what is means to be an american.

i am grateful for those standing against the enemy even though they are swallowed whole by it.

i am grateful for the storytellers who remind me of the deep magic.

i am grateful for those who can still remember what the dark is.

i am grateful to those who have done me good turns. may i be able to return the favors to them or pass it on to others in need.

i am grateful for those using their ignorance to illuminate ignorance. a dim bulb is better than none.

i am grateful for the repetition of the times though i earnestly desire something new and genuine to spring forth.

i am grateful to those who have killed me in one way or another. i know now i can rise up from many kinds of deaths.

i am grateful to those who have failed me and those who have broken my trust / my heart. i would be a far less complex and interesting person without you.

i am grateful for the depression / anxiety i suffer. by it i am already prepped for the worst that life can bring.

i am grateful to be free from financial debt and that i manage to stay alive within my meager means.

i am grateful to know that wonderful things exist in the world even though i cannot currently experience them.

i am grateful for the dead who aught to have outlived me. i think of deceased next generation family members and feel more connected to what lies beyond this life.

i am grateful for not being caught up in car culture. i know what humans are in cars: most like themselves and least like themselves.

i am grateful for my battle with scoliosis. i know an envy of, and see beauty in alignment that most take for granted.

i am grateful to those who do not understand me. may i ever be a reminder that the universe is so much more than just  you.

i am grateful to those who made the effort to learn my song. even just parts of it. i hope they will remember to sing it back to me when I am lost.

i am grateful for my empathy though it makes me an easy target for self loathing narcissists who don’t even know what they are.

i am grateful to have been given gifts. now, if i had the wisdom to use them more effectively…