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Homage To Luis Bunuel
We have a DVD of Un Chien Andalou out on loan. Late last night I thought I'd watch one of the extras (so I can post the disc back today and feel that I've had my money's worth.) I expected a half hour tit-bit. Turns out it's a feature length biography of Bunuel. So there I am, way past midnight, wishing the great man would hurry up and die.
He was an endearing old cove. A bit of a domestic tyrant (one gathers) but his wife and sons humoured him and got on with their own lives behind his back.
When members of his family were late for dinner one evening (he was fanatical about time-keeping) he put the dish of paella on the living room floor and danced on it.
I woke up around four o'clock. I remembered how Bunuel and Dali had experimented with automatic writing- and thought I'd give it a shot myself. I started stringing words together in my head without pause for thought- and soon went back to sleep.
So here's today's exercise. A slice of automatic writing (or typing.) Ready, steady, go.....
Automatic Script
And if the cat isn't ready for the dousing I propose to give it, that's too bad, but it will happen anyway. Ho, ho, he said and looked up to the beacon on the hill. Flags were there. Flags of many nations- all fluttering and spluttering in the breeze. They will have trouble getting over the fence, he thought. And then she arrived, swaying and clicking her castanets. He was entranced. The air grew purple round them. Rain fell and the helmets of the conquistadors glittered in the wintry sun.
That'll do. Very Spanish. Hmmm....
And Once More Because It's Fun
The trees cast long shadows over the deer park and the two sisters lay on the tartan rug and watched how the raindrops clung to the barbed wire fence. Nothing could be worse than this, said Eloise. And nothing could be finer, said Joan. A high cloud obscured the sun. The clowns came prancing by in procession. One of them clashed a huge pair of cymbals. And then came elephants. Tall white elepahants with Howdahs on their backs . And the sisters rolled out of the way to avoid being trampled.
no subject
First, Bunuel dancing on the dish of paella! Which reminded me immediately of Rumpelstilstkin's tantrums in front of the princess.
Automatic writing: How did you do it? With a pen?
I particularly enjoyed the two sisters. Very Gorey-ish! A fine short story, very visual--the clown with cymbals, the elephants with Howdahs! And the glum Eloise...
Ho, ho, he said....
How funny! And no wonder he is a happy man: And then she arrived, swaying and clicking her castanets. He was entranced.
--Such surreal worlds! Please do some more!
I think I like the idea. I may try it myself.
no subject
It's easy. I just sat and typed, looking neither to right nor to left, until I had a paragraph.
The man's hat looked like a pig. It had little green eyes and sharp tusks. Mary approached cautiously and felt the points. Ah, said the man, be careful he bites. But he's dead said Mary. The pig winked an eye. I see how it's done said John . There's a battery in his overcoat pocket. The man grinned. Put your hand in my pocket, little boy, and see what you find. Don't said Mary, it's a trap. John put his hand in nevertheless and drew it out covered in honey.
no subject
This is a delicious game...all too fun.