Voyeur: The Price of a Vision
*talking to someone off camera* “….and then he gave her a pearl necklace”
*notices camera is on*
*turns to camera* – “and welcome back. Tonight we’re here with Missy’s father…”
If only writing was as easy as falling over. Today, luckily, a dove carrying a box of words tied with a yellow ribbon landed on my head. In the box was a conversation with my 14 year old & 34 year old selves – it went something like this:
Did you think about praying before writing tonight?
Fuck off. Why are you following me? You are one confused motherfucker of an inner voice
I didn’t know I was an inner voice. I thought I was running shit from the get go. Suppose I should introduce myself…fuck, now I’m even confused, can I get some codeine or something?
Look – I’m still in my jammies, and my hair is all over the place, and you want to do the bit about inner voices? Can we get this done?
Who was your Dad?
My dad was a cheater
Sigmund Freud thought the problem was all about categorization. That men are to blame for everything because they listened to Madonna records or something
Was it the sex or companionship or just rubbing his ego?
It could have been all of them – but I think he was addicted to the danger. Or I was
This film is about my fathers cheating, and how I replicated his behavior & values in my sex life. It’s also about how I followed him every night for a year and watched his silhouette having sex through a window from the dark park across the street. Is it any surprise that I am a permanent state of slow emotion replay? No it is not I answer myself
Can you tell me about your father?
Being faithfully unfaithful kept my father falsely true
Why did he not just leave the marriage?
Whatever was working here was beyond my rationalization. I didn’t need to understand, I just needed to stay hidden and let the circumstances draw the conclusions for me
Who are you?
Here’s what you should know about me – I am a purveyor of trinket philosophy and I sing pretty lullabies that go boom boom boom
Who’s your daddy?
You asking looking for confirmation – or you telling me?
Someday’s he was a bastard
Someday’s he was a douche-canoe shitbag manperson
Someday’s before I was six years old, he was my Dad
What’s your favourite song?
Firestarter/Throw me a match/Been rubbing these sticks for too long/Daddy gone out to play again
Maybe you should play nice and make friends – or something that makes sense. Question ..who are you really?
I’m a process. Is that bad?
It’s a little heavy but I’m learning to use the tools I’ve been given. I feel like it’s both a blessing and a curse to have lived this life in this body & mind. I feel like it’s a bitch knowing what virtue is and having the intelligence to reflect on my actions…then to make it worse
I know I still have a lot of work to do. I’m being pushed or pulled into some kind of psychic vortex where the only way out is through. To make matters worse, it involves truth. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore ….I’m not the tabloid type. I’m excited about life finally, and for the first time in my life I’ve stumbled across someone who understands and accepts my particular brand of madness. It’s really fucked up because somebody also up and off with my emotional controls at the same time. It’s going to be some really fucked up happy ending isn’t it
There is no end
You heard me kiddo
Don’t call me kiddo, I’m not your kid
Were you in love with someone, and you wore out your welcome? Is that why you’re so annoying?
You’re making me deal with some really uncomfortable weird fucked up emotions I know nothing about
Just write you pussy
I’m trying to stay balanced and healthy of mind and body…is that cool? Can we just roll with that? Maybe it’s an evolutionary revolution, willing to heal no matter what the pain – in an effort to feel something else apart from acid-and-celluloid flames. In a way, these films are about bringing me back to my roots, because how far can you run in an effort to lose yourself, if it all comes back around and you have to go home some day
In this digital ode to the concept of soulage – and how to get along without it, I am watching a film about a person I have never met formally because teenage desire pulled a gun on my innocence and took hope hostage
But I want to know the why of all of this
I’ve done the drugs,
and the psychologists
They all threw some clues
Now I’m working the art
Working the natural form
and the natural form of expression
Because here it’s ok to be wrong
And that’s encouragement for a person
who never spoke
because being wrong one more time
was a bit much, for everyone to handle
I began intellectualizing to create my distance from the harsh facts, so I relate without debate to my own self assessment of the facts, and they are….
I went looking for my Dad when I went to the park
But I found guilt instead
It was a bit like snorting pepper
-outrageously disgraceful or shameful: opprobrious conduct