yeah, oscar night, it’s tonight. it ain’t what it used to be. then of course just what the hell is? i don’t go to movies anymore. the whole experience is just annoying these days on all sorts of levels. i buy em instead. cheap. watch em at home. very seldom anything new. for the most part the old stuff of my youth or somewhat newer stuff. yeah, even the stuff from before i was born. movies i can watch. movies i can relate to. movies that might even mean something to this old scarred and pissed off lion. all that being said, i have something for this used to be, sacred evening. something sad and tragic. my take on one of the last sad acts of the original king of cool, steve mcqueen.
the dust and heat…
hung in the tijuana air like a freeze frame from hell. cars honked and clamored looking for an inch in which to move. nothing ever did. in sunglasses and old clothes he moved through it all. no one knew him. he moved slowly looking for the place. if you looked at him closely you could see the disease at work. taking what was left of his life and mocking him with each painful step. finally the place. the earthly waiting room for hell.
the bell above the door tinkled when he opened it. as the door closed the hell from the streets outside stopped and the smell of the office over came him. a small greasy headed man got up from behind an equally greasy desk and spoke.
ah, senor bullet, you have come.
yes, on the phone, you said you could help me?
si. yes, i can. por favor, follow me.
through the cluttered outer office and into the dank dismal treatment rooms they went. a strange but familiar odor growing in the man’s nose. the small mexican finally stopped at a dirty examination table. he turned and said.
please, senor, you must deesrobe.
ok. the man replied.
he was resigned to it. it was all that was left. this final sad humility of an approaching death. a last chance stop on the road of life.
hokay, meester bullet, now you must assept these enemas of the coffees to cure you cancers. por favor, on the tables. you must spread you nalgas for
a tear formed in the corner of his eye as the man moved to comply. only to be used as substance by a very large nasty house fly.
outside the dust, heat, and noise, for that moment, stopped. something had gone from us all. forever. in an instant they all began to move. again. to oppress. again. moving us closer to this hell on earth.