Small Steps Toward Walking On Water

Spence Kenneth Hasper's valuable input

I recently awoke, in a manic haze; a sweating, frothing sickness of inspiration, rattling my veins like a Parkinson's patient on Alton Towers' Sonic Spinball. It just... called to me. Something about it. It had to be done. 

Having passed out on in the office (on my famous green foam "mattress"), I scraped together what few crew happened to be still present - at, y'know, roughly 4 AM - piled in the company cars - and sped off... to the smoke shop! 

We've shot around here a small handful of times, up and down the whole strip; essentially serving as the area surrounding Vienna's fateful bus stop. It ain't scenic, but it's... eerie. Detached. Somehow otherworldly. I guess in that way, you could call us locals.

As such, nobody seemed to mind as multiple truckloads of strange, effeminate men flooded the empty streets; arranging props, positioning cameras, and installing arguably illegal blacklights... all at the precise command of their dark, masked leader. Me! You'd think we were shooting the Billie Jean video.

We did two takes; Vienna, in silence, surrounded by junk, perched on a dinky metal chair (stolen from the famed Hernando Toy and Comic Show all those eons ago) as she waits for that damned bus... in real time! Spooky. 

The odd anxiety in the air - nervously eyeing the odd passing semi, wandering nightcrawlers, and looming security cameras - gave such a distinct, sickly energy to what happened that night. It's not every day something like this happens. Or... yeah, y'know, night. 

Sketches for a Super Jack video

It's all about spontaneity. As such, at the time of writing, I've not (much) reviewed the footage, or even the accompanying score by recurring musicvillain Super Jack - also created live! Inn't that nice? I just don't want to touch the project 'till I can give it a full go, from top to bottom. Spontaneity. Like an infant with HIV, it must bear the very same infectious sexual sickness from which it was birthed. 

What's wild is, not even a day later, a big flashing neon sign adorning the wall behind me - that big, crest-shaped thingie, seen in a good handful of shots outside of what we caught just that particular night - was removed; it drew me in, seducing my florescent-obsessed, insect-like eye - and disappeared - a siren in the choking, gagging Floridian murk. Almost like prophecy... if it's in MidLife, it no longer exists. Banished to the city eternal - purgatory. Ain't the first time. Kinda beautiful. 

A few days later, I was once again visited. I hadn't seen her in years; she passed away, in high school. She always liked me... but, y'know. I wasn't mature enough to understand or admire how special that was. Oh well. 

At least we met again. For that moment, what she wanted was real. She was stunning. As if she never left. It felt reassuring. Maybe I'll see her again someday.