Thinking of the movie a lot recently
 it opens with Derson in bed facing
a large frame, a photograph of ruby light
cut to a tracking shot: kid in a library alone
night, vexed by strip lighting
you’re in someone else’s nightmare
he is called Alan Derson
the immediate temptation is to despise him
 his favourite word is ‘now’ & we cut back
sunset drenched in monochrome
              power is an ache, smells like BO but less determinate, Alan is fourteen
February crumbling into March cornered in the changing room
his boxers pulled off, this is things going to plan
the most beautiful boy there turns devastating pink & spits on him
elsewhere, when now was better, when it was a plan
now we are watching Derson at twenty three in the library again, at night
 pouring over a book with blank pages
    then another young man another library, ‘ somewhere else’
      a pseudo gothic affair you might see in a 90’s bildungsroman
 his dark room shown perilously unattended
a shaft of light makes a child of itself
falls backwards into a drain
   I’ve named it August mon amore so as to turn you off immediately.
         I’m telling you this in the hope it may suggest a plan
              for my movie about August and September
Alan Derson all alone in a library at night
summer stretched to breaking point
He lives in a slow room  
in the library late at night with much pressure behind the eyes 
then sleep until two, the café for five hours
gets to the library for eight or nine pm and stays there
In my movie, I don’t want characters, more
alienated obsessions, tedious nows
so tedious it makes me
  think of slow afternoons, lawn chairs, throbbing heat
familial resentment, open flowers, smiling
say o! cut the melodramatics won’t you! I’ve a headache
if I was just some softcore straight boy how easy
it’d be to write about my dreams
  my movie is so young, a broken divan
aching months collapsing into each other     
I’ve forgotten the secondary protagonist
other kid, other library                
named something delicate like Eli or Lyric
 I just don’t know him at all
                             colour palette should be an
              uncomfortable summer day
              not at odds with the central theme  
which looks like what?  nothing too distracting I
enjoy movies that do the whole surreal-lite take
on the horrors of life
The movie must not be a standard affair
          soft lighting is a maybe
perhaps it could be set in a Swedish ashtray 
    Derson smokes a sexy cigarette
  flecks of ash pirouette in the seven pm sun
visual refrain is a blurred shoulder in the corner of a shot
Alan, turning back
a bit more orphic pontificating
Alan, it’s a beautiful morning
Alan, don’t 
My movie must have a lot of sky
              Derson under a sky
              the colour of red brick
              of old wash cloth
              silk pyjamas, smashed fruit
              a filthy fish tank, cum stain
              his big line is, fuck your lyric
              the sky like vulgar wallpaper
              he is
              too anxious to go to the party
              lurks outside, hungry ghost
              A sky the colour of sighs 

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