city beach, perth. my borrowed camper van is parked facing west on the edge of the indian ocean. i'm here for rev [revelation - perth international film festival, for the uninitiated]. my mobile film "salome's picnic" plays closing night [tonight] sandwiched between william burroughs & john waters. it's already played to a large crowd in the main theatre the week prior. as far as i'm concerned, i've made it & could die happy now. what magnum opus?
i'm also here to shoot a film of my exploits. although the adventures keep getting in the way. consequently there's very little footage. a perfect excuse to return.
the van belongs to my beloved sister gina. who unexpectedly gifted her to me when i rocked up planning on shooting a gutter-edge gypsy porn flick on my mobile when i got off the plane. the van slightly messes with my harmony korine vibe. but not much. i can still sing for my supper if need be.
as if by divine providence for a barrage of unanswered requests [which have been long since been returned to sender], all my ships seem to have come in at once. the horizon is littered with them. they sit. silently waiting on the darkest blue rim. in a single canon snap i destroy the phantoms. now their collective soul is in my possession. collection day is nigh.
the beach is practically deserted. what would be considered a balmy warm day by sydney-siders throughout most seasons is viewed by western australians as cold. they visibly shiver except the permanent beach folk, lifesavers & their ilk. i can count my footsteps in the lustrous sand. and wipe the sand off from between my toes before embarking my mobile home. we waghorn chicks are quite house proud.
i like these guys. but wonder what a beach inspector really does? WA seems to be grossly over-policed. i'm sure it's "for all our own good". god only knows i need protecting from myself.
suddenly i feel much safer. like when the perth CBD cop yelled "redman redman" all "the shining-like" at gina & i when we deigned to cross the road [coincidentally free of traffic] before the lights instructed the braindead citizens to. we escaped the threatened one hundred dollar fee. authoritarian tosser. "thou must not anticipate". thanks moses. soda jerk has really nailed your coffin for me now.
there can't be many better places to exercise & soak up negative ions. this reinforces my resolve to transform from a giant piece of lard into michelle pfeiffer's catwoman meets linda hamilton's sarah connor forthwith. this epic enterprise merely requires a william gibson cyberpunk body lease-out. with sperm bank like stipulations & fine-print. no gyms or recycled oxygen allowed. good vibrations need only apply.