What's in store for me in the direction I don’t take ? - Kerouac

Cowering in the musty balcony seat at melody from the rattling guns aimed randomly all over the 5 guys of RDB, spattering assured with smattering, shattering shins, stuttering on gushes of blood, all smothered by giggles at the crescendo…a denouement that never happened. This movie left me on the peak…teetering on what could be if anyone or I supposed an If.

Pondered over the point of their deaths. Would it have been better if they hadn’t died? No. The impact they left behind, had, would’ve never been possible without their dramatic deaths

What would they have been or done if they were alive? Political unrest? Definitely. Coup? Maybe. Revolution? Yes. Or would they have just simmered down to a fund? An organization whose big picture gets chipped away with time? Chances are.

What about them? Them? Micro lives really lose out in the big picture. They would’ve served time probably, tried and what not. Media coverage is all that will be. But that’s what makes movies so amazing…art and literature. The viewfinder can escalate from the micro to the macro and keep both within their periphery or mix and match. These are a few lives. Macro makes his history. Macro instigates.

From the storyteller’s point of view I understand why they had to go. They just had to die. Or a lot would’ve been in vain. Guess a lil juggling around can invert positions. We watch them come and go. We find the flare when we pass them by while surfing. Well we can’t have Dylan or Marley glued to our ears to keep us at it. Neither can we plaster the beats or Marx to our eyes. All them greats can spin indifference around to take notice of itself…its sickly pale, bland, blanched mangle…bleached clean of life, dehydrated of anything worthwhile. We can’t keep sniffing at sewage. We can’t keep spacing out on the blood on tv. It’s amazing the amount of wickedness and cruelty human beings are capable of. But somewhere it’s better than apathy.

In this stage where everyone gets their turn, where audience turn to props, props turn to audience…rationed theatre appreciation, only a few get the lead role. Well, if nothing the creator’s definitely fair. There’s a will. There are choices. Survival of the fittest. Yes, there’s also willful suspension of disbelief. We can either keep getting shuffled around to periphery roles of audience or a prop and fill in the scene. Or take centerstage, twist the spotlight our way, grab the mic and deliver.

I don’t like the previous paragraph. It’s clichéd. Guess it’s cause its an oft repeated thingy. High time…been a long while.

In a weird ass way narcissists make a difference in society.