There was a mystic calculator in the desert, a squat obelisk, where men would go to consider computations and practice masturbation. Like the ruins of Ozymandias, there was the reek of ancient megalomania perfuming the air between sandstorms – and these men, often in fine cotton or flannel suits, would invariably pour sweat from their red faces as beads of sand wounded their eyes, especially at the climactic moments of sexual exertion that always seemed to complement nicely the cold stringent work ethic of intellectual pursuit that resumed once they were finished with their break of self-congratulation.
However squat this mystic calculator was, it was still a crowned obelisk and to the journeying camel shepherds or any other passerby moving from one local oasis to the next, this location of mathematics and Onanism was known as the Height of Arrogance. The men were said to be made almost entirely of silicon – a material divined by the sun god Aton to punish mankind for its curiosity.
It was on a particularly dry day that one flushed silicon man turned to the other and said, “You know, this is good, solid work which brings me a steady paycheck, but a lot of people don’t know that I have a creative mind. I mean an artistic mind, sure…” He zipped up his fly, as did the other man. “What I’d really like to do is go down south to the tar pits. Yeah, really get into the sludge and become a grand muckety-muck and buy a camera and shoot a little movie. I have a little movie idea. Want to hear it?”
The man’s friend shrugged his shoulders.
“Alright, I’ll tell it to you. Well, it starts with a woman, seated on a rawhide chair, dressed in a cowboy fashion idiom, braids and semi-heavy makeup. She’s sitting next to a boxy television that plays a montage of natural landscapes and other Americana, ideas, etc. – on top of the TV is a Stetson hat and a Horse’s Neck. That’s a cocktail known for its exaggerated, winding garnish of an orange peel. You understand? Offscreen, below the frame, is a plate of seven oysters on the half-shell which halfway through the scene, the woman begins to ingest with her drink. We begin with a medium shot, alright? Slightly low angle. The desired aim is to give the woman some authority, from her abdomen to the hairs on her head she is structure, she is machinery, just like the boxy TV to her right. A clear view of what’s playing on the television is paramount. Got it? Paramount. Composition-wise… her face is on the upper-left focal point, while the center of the television screen meets the lower right focal point. That’s the rule of thirds, you understand? The camera is… more or less… straight-on the TV and the chair, and the woman’s body is turned a little to the right. Her left. Then we do several extreme close-ups. One of the woman’s cowboy boots as the soles dig into a cowhide rug. One of the oysters as they’re getting eaten. Then we do the montage on the TV in its entirety. Finally, it’s all about the woman’s face. The camera zooming in on her face until… and a few moments after… the fidelity becomes out-of-focus and distorts abstractly. And I know what you’re thinking… what about the lighting? Well, I figure it’s a direct, voluminous source of light from behind the woman, like a wave or blanket rolling over… Just rolling over. For the bulk of the medium shot, see, the woman delivers her monologue and ingests her oysters. But I’d like to add at the end of the movie, a pair of disembodied hands that blindfold the woman and light the woman’s cigarette. Execution-style. You get it? Like a firing squad. It’s a metaphor. Also, overall, I think the entire scene should not exceed twelve to fifteen minutes. Tops. What’d you think…?”
The man’s friend, who had been listening to the little movie idea, gave a sigh, picked up a rock, and bludgeoned the first man to death. He went on masturbating to the obelisk.
-- Malik Selle is a writer and visual artist. A graduate of Emerson College in Boston, he earned his B.A. in literary studies and creative writing. His fiction and poetry have appeared in America and abroad, in publications such as Beyond Words Magazine, Stoneboat Literary Journal, The West Trade Review, and others. Recently, he has produced and directed several experimental short films within the San Francisco underground film scene and has presented artwork in several group shows at the Pacific Art League in Palo Alto.