misogyny for beginners
The real film never gets made. It’s the making of that’s the real film. We’re all sitting at the Castle Bar. Ludi’s glum because all the new flicks are shite. “You can’t get happy in ninety minutes anymore.” His shrug is from old school yiddish. But what he says is true, the movies aren’t authentic like they used to be and besides, most people don’t have 20 minutes to spare. It’s the ADHD generation, the kids are all wired and their parents are wired too. Mike has decided to start dumming up in order to fit in. “Don’t ask me to do normal, I don’t do normal.” Mike’s just made the world’s first smart movie. It talks back at you whenever your mind wanders, it knows when you’re bored. Mike’s delighted with his product, “I have the only 5.1 surround orb in Claremont.” Me I’m not so sure that Cape Town is ready for this blatant post-mortemist propaganda. Trevor puts his lot in with Mike, “I don’t want to go back to reality, that’s the issue.” Ludi drops his head into his hands, he hates innuendo. Mike points at me, “If you can’t beat the program delete it.” Just then Trevor gets greeted by his happiness dealer. “Call back tomorrow.” A bevvy of giggling flappers shuttle past the bar. “Are you guys waiting for one of us?” “All my life honey, come with me, my car’s parked outside of Evol.” “Not tonight Gramps.” Ouch. That stings. Suddenly I’m so thirsty my mouth’s dry as a nun’s cunt. You wouldn’t believe i’ve been ripping my tits off three nights this week, it’s not seemly at my age. These are serial overlapping hangovers under my eyes. The reaper came last night. I felt dirty after I had bribed him. But the truth is I’m not ready to die. I tried to channel fire but I got the tuning wrong. This is what I learned:
Every gorgeous young woman is a hideous hag waiting to happen. This is the problem of getting old: one learns to see through the mask of youth. Makeup is interesting because it foregrounds the mask-like operation of the face itself. The young woman’s face is a trick nature plays on men. Inside she’s already her mother, itching to nag.
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