{"id":10371,"date":"2012-03-30T11:05:34","date_gmt":"2012-03-30T15:05:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=10371"},"modified":"2012-03-30T12:10:17","modified_gmt":"2012-03-30T16:10:17","slug":"better-fictions-lesser-truths","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2012\/03\/better-fictions-lesser-truths\/","title":{"rendered":"Better Fictions, Lesser Truths"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: one of various digital collages in the “Fictions” series by Flemish photographer\/artist Filip Dujardin<\/a>. (Click to enlarge.) These buildings and landscapes do not actually exist (although he starts with images of buildings in and around Ghent, Belgium).]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n

While I was sitting one night with a poet friend watching a great opera performed in a tent under arc lights, the poet took my arm and pointed silently. Far up, blundering out of the night, a huge Cecropia moth swept past from light to light over the posturings of the actors.<\/p>\n

“He doesn’t know,” my friend whispered excitedly. “He’s passing through an alien universe brightly lit but invisible to him. He’s in another play; he doesn’t see us. He doesn’t know. Maybe it’s happening right now to us.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Loren Eiseley [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Here and There<\/strong><\/p>\n

Here and there nightfall
\nwithout fanfare
\npresses down, utterly
\nexpected, not an omen in sight.
\nHere and there a husband
\nat the usual time
\ngoes to bed with his wife
\nand doesn’t dream of other women.
\nOccasionally a terrible sigh
\nis heard, the kind that is
\ntheatrical, to be ignored.
\nOr a car backfires
\nand reminds us of a car
\nbackfiring, not of a gunshot.
\nHere and there a man says
\nwhat he means and people hear him
\nand are not confused.
\nHere and there a missing teenage girl
\ncomes home unscarred.
\nSometimes dawn just brings another
\nday, full of minor
\npleasures and small complaints.
\nAnd when the newspaper arrives
\nwith the world,
\npeople make kindling of it
\nand sit together while it burns.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Stephen Dunn [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

We tell ourselves stories in order to live. The princess is caged in the consulate. The man with the candy will lead the children into the sea. The naked woman on the ledge outside the window on the sixteenth floor is a victm of accidie<\/span>, or the naked woman is an exhibitionist, and it would be “interesting” to know which. We tell ourselves that it makes some difference whether the naked woman is about to commit a mortal sin or is about to register a political protest or is about to be, the Aristophanic view, snatched back to the human condition by the fireman in priest’s clothing just visible in the window behind her, the one smiling at the telephoto lens. We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.<\/p>\n

Or at least we do for a while.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Joan Didion, The White Album [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Places I Have Heard the Ocean<\/strong><\/p>\n

In a cat’s throat, in a shell I hold
\nto my ear — though I’m told
\nthis is the sound of my own
\nblood. I have heard the ocean
\nin the city: cars against
\nthe beach of our street. Or in
\nthe subway, waiting for a train
\nthat carries me like a current.
\nIn my bed: place of high and low
\ntide or in my daughter’s skates,
\nrolling over the sidewalk.
\nOcean in the trees when they
\nfill their heads with wind.
\nOcean in the rise and fall:
\nlungs of everyone I love.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Faith Shearin [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

INT. JUDY’S BEDROOM – (EARLY EVENING)<\/p>\n

The window shades are drawn, the lights in the room have been lit. Scottie [James Stewart] is sitting, relaxed, thumbing through a magazine idly. The jacket of his suit is hung over the back of a chair. The bathroom door is open. There is a full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and we catch occasional glimpses of Judy [Kim Novak] as she moves about inside…<\/em><\/p>\n

She comes out of the bathroom happy and contented. She wears the black cocktail dress, her blonde hair is done up in the Madeleine way. She stops to pose and show off the dress and smiles across at him lovingly.<\/em><\/p>\n

JUDY
\nHello, my love. Like me?<\/p>\n

He regards her admiringly with a small, contented grin.<\/em><\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nMmmm.<\/p>\n

JUDY
\nIs that the best you can do?<\/p>\n

She turns to the mirror over the dresser.<\/em><\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nCome here.<\/p>\n

JUDY
\nOh, no. You’ll muss me.<\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nThat’s what I had in mind.<\/p>\n

JUDY
\nToo late. I’ve got my face on.<\/p>\n

She has opened the candy box, rummages around in the jewelry, comes up with some earrings, holds one up to her ear to see what it looks like, decides against it, finds some other earrings, small and neat, and puts them on. During this:<\/em><\/p>\n

JUDY
\nI’m suddenly hungry. Would you rather go somewhere else?<\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nNo, Ernie’s is fine.<\/p>\n

JUDY
\nI’m going to have one of those big beautiful steaks. And… let’s see… to start…<\/p>\n

During this she has taken a necklace out of the box, and is trying to fasten it around her neck. But the clasp won’t work.<\/em><\/p>\n

JUDY
\nOh! Help me with this, will you?<\/p>\n

She backs up a step, still holding the necklace in place, and Scottie rises from his chair and comes up in back of her. He takes the ends of the necklace from her.<\/em><\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nI’ve got it. He bends down and bites the back of her neck.<\/em><\/p>\n

JUDY
\nOh! You’re supposed to fasten it!<\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nAll in good time.<\/p>\n

He bites her again.<\/em><\/p>\n

JUDY
\nScottie!<\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nHow does it work?<\/p>\n

JUDY
\nCan’t you see?<\/p>\n

SCOTTIE
\nOh, yeah. There.<\/p>\n

As he is fastening it he glances into the mirror and sees the necklace clearly for the first time. His eyes are immediately startled with the shock of recognition, and he stares, wondering why. The CAMERA ZOOMS IN to a closeup of the necklace in the mirror; then, with a click, the closeup changes to a closeup of the necklace painted on canvas. The CAMERA DRAWS BACK to show the necklace around the neck of Carlotta in the portrait, the same necklace. Now the CAMERA DRAWS BACK to show the Art Gallery, with the Portrait of Carlotta on the far wall.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Alec Coppel and Samuel Taylor, script for Hitchcock’s Vertigo<\/em> [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

The most difficult fictions to look inside — like Scottie’s, above — are the ones we’ve been telling ourselves: it’s a lot easier to blame others for putting something over on us. Still, under the right circumstances, even when we’re feeling foolish…\u00a0Carmen McCrae sings it. I love that this song is not<\/em>\u00a0bitter, morose, or angry; it’s playful — it\u00a0winks<\/em>. You almost have to wonder if there wasn’t — and still is — a little bit of untruth-telling going on in both directions.<\/p>\n

[Below, click Play button to begin <\/em>You Took Advantage of Me. While audio is playing, volume control appears at left — a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 2:40 long.]<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

[audio:youtookadvantageofme_carmenmcrae.mp3|titles=’You Took Advantage of Me’|artists=Carmen McRae]<\/div>\n

[Lyrics<\/a>]<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: one of various digital collages in the “Fictions” series by Flemish photographer\/artist Filip Dujardin. (Click to enlarge.) These buildings and landscapes do not actually exist (although he starts with images of buildings in and around Ghent, Belgium).] From whiskey river: While I was sitting one night with a poet friend watching a great opera […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,53,74,250],"tags":[179,315,1514,2907,2908,2909,2910,2911,2912],"class_list":{"0":"post-10371","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-movies-media","9":"category-music","10":"category-art","11":"tag-stephen-dunn","12":"tag-alfred-hitchcock","13":"tag-joan-didion","14":"tag-filip-dujardin","15":"tag-loren-eiseley","16":"tag-faith-shearin","17":"tag-vertigo","18":"tag-carmen-mccrae","19":"tag-truth-and-fiction","20":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-2Hh","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10371","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10371"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10371\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10391,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10371\/revisions\/10391"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10371"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10371"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10371"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}