Female Yakuza Tale 1973 - Johnny Pulp and the Lemonheads

When I come back I'll bang you through the wall. You're my type. They come on like snakes. I like snakes. I'll sleep with all of them. I'd sleep with you. Here comes the rain. Female Yakuza tale 1973. Female Yakuza Tale 1973. That's my type. You prayed but you didn't kill. those crotch gouge murders wow. Just take me to your boss she says by the lighthouse. ah how the water glistens. I'm single. Give me a break. The bodies keep on writhing. The water glistens. The steam rises. They've got some nerve. Forget that. My ass is on fire. So the drugs are fake and the sex is too. When she's enjoying it she's acting acting. The big boss will die. The scar face will die. The women will strip naked and they'll see it through. They'll see it through. Oh these are killers. Films stumble between the rose of forgetfulness and the rose of memory. We're plucking their torments and loves. See the thorns stab. In the cool of the day under the juniper branch there's too much to explain. This is where all loves end. The eye cuts the word, and the word is a wound you can't heal. You set fire to the barge and walked the docks amongst the sailors looking for proof that you were still alive behind those pearl eyes. The thousand sordid images pressed inside whilst you lounged on your bed a gull screamed delirium in to the void above. Cast your petals on the water and watch them circle endlessly and hear the voices in other rooms murmur into twilights. Now you know you were never quite what you thought and became a stranger. You should have sat still. Maybe we all should have learned that trick. Black river, black river, like a nerve to the great nothing. Come with me. Come with me now before daybreak. And stay. Look at the dog with the hunter, and the drinkers all lost in their knowledge by the bar, and the long voices and strange cries as we sit and think we're closer to a death. The autumn roads are cold and bright and have lowered faces and where are you as shadows fall and the leaves are sudden and untamed and in a dim bar three people sit drinking bitter and lagers and confess their own broken images to a kind of longing. I watched a whole series of freezing vibration and the secret histories of hapless perversion and then there's a wrestling movie from Takedown in 1979 and Hardcore in a mall theatre and the ending gets rejected when the girl goes home with him because it's bullshit. You're not bullshit and I'd go home with you so what do I know? I'd be Norma Rae and do older versions. When I hear voices they're just coming from the wrong side of the tracks and I change my mind . Some times living is like being in a sequence from a film climax, maybe Battle Royale probably - definitely that. Ha. Did you know there's a film The Bell Jar which you kind of think Sylvia Plath and all that doom wouldn't work? Sometimes there are cuts which stop things being developed in the way they should. I'd go with Catherine Deneuve and so would you. That's a sexy thing. That's a sexy thing. I was put on earth to find your blank pages and write on them with you until we find the version we want. Do you see that? Yea, you do. I'm a new theme and you're a new expression. There's a way I can act and a way I really can't. I don't read things and just apply my shattered heart. If I don't what am I doing? Everything I do is so damned personal and it is buried but real, it's real. I like my stories and stick them in. I stick them in. You just have to start in the middle and go backwards or forwards . This song starts in the last line do you know that? So you should be listening to the sad material and then shake your ass. OO shake it. Fuck the way nothing is ultimately fucked and the way everything really is. That's the mystery and the belly of the beast. I want everyone to be acting just for me. And I just want to be acting just for you. And on we go. Is this your next drink? Is this your real smile? Is this the turn around moment? Staying organic sometimes is broken into three or four fight movements. We're in a slow action movie and there's an order. Let's be ok and keep adding to the chaos and we'll be ok. We will be ok. I'm in a Serge Leon movie, all operatic and someone. Wanna be in it? Yea babe, yea. we talked about Humphrey Bogart and the way he did things like what he was always doing is being the soul of the movie as the themes move forward and the importance suggests a kind of dark passage and you were talking about that and I saw you shine and I was Lauren Becall for a moment and we were as mortal then as we are ever going to be. It's never hit and miss if you have a vision and you have time to make a difference. How great you are and it feels like everything is blessed and zeitgeisty and ridiculous and when we took a cool smoke at the end of the evening - any evening - it was as if here the night was the final cut and I would never be able to prove my innocence or know yours. So many times mysteries are just where the action is. We're looking for the action. It's about being right there. It's like being by the camera. I only act for you. I don't want to be in another room watching tv. I want to see your eyes. Fuck the frame because we want what's outside the frame and the drama. This is the creative part going electric and back and forth. See Bogart's eyes because that's where the moments are, right inside his eyes, they peer right into a fistful of dollars, badass and killer, and four coffins, my mistake. They see everything. I can't take evasive action with you. I can't take evasive action with you and Humphry Bogart would know why and would see the tragedy and understand that that's the way these things often are. And he'd sigh and know there's a better place but he's not going to get there, like in Sirocco which has an unusually different kind of woman who can't help but find his ugliness beautiful. So there's always hope but he doesn't make it even though all he yearns for is in that woman. Boy is that sad even though the film's pretty bad. But Dark Passage has it all said in just the title sequence but when it comes to its end we really know who we are and how it started as well as how it ends. If it ever does. I wanted to be my version and you'd be there too and one day I'll get really good dialogue so you'll roll your eyes and stay. One day I saw you and that's how things happen. One glance. Like an archive it won't release me. It won't release me. And it's all coming out of me and it's love it's always love. But it's a dark passage, and sometimes that darkness is a line, a voice, a feature happening elsewhere, and you're elsewhere and I'm burned out and can't process anything beyond. Is the dark black or my blindness? Stories unfold don't they and it's not just a straight line. You always smile and then turn away and dislocate time and space. Wow that's drama. You're drama. You resonate in a wild way. I'll come back each time and be sitting on the edge of my seat. I am never confused emotionally with you. I know where I'm at and it's an umbilical chord these emotions they just keep me momentarily ok. I go up and down and round and round. Do you? I have my own virtues and you know most of them because there aren't that many ha. I'm a whole new form some days but you've seen it all and I'm personal and my ideas have been there for years and years. They find their way. I'm listening to sugar babies in my head some days. Some days I'm all there and other days it's a ghost. Pain finds its way into the story and some days what character I am is not always sure what genre I'm working in. Do you know? You're like on the beach near the fire lying there and waiting to accuse the other voice who ruined you or made you. Or who will one day. Because the past and the future stopped making sense last Tuesday. Ha. This is like a Korean film scene and Poetry and its a religious experience kind of, like a great film always is, and will you never stop caring. Well, who can answer that? But the golden drink and the glory of nights and the city and the piano noone plays and the empty seats that are like a ghost room and suddenly we're alone with originality and personality and a test an emotional toll and hacks never go so far wrong which makes us geniuses together. That's why we're scrambling or I am and we might be casualties or just raising Caine. What's the story then, and what really is unfolding here? Well some stories haven't started yet and you begin half way towards the end and fill in the gaps as you go along - maybe backwards. You're a wild one and I'll come and make you crazy and style up the chaos and hysterical dares and bets. Is there a wager? Yea, but we're going to see that play out in the second act and we're not even beyond prelude yet. See how we both read Bataille and wonder where that goes. I'm thinking about that now. I'm thinking and thinking and dying and dying babe. This is love and lust and who knows the order? Who ever knows? Who ever knows? Maybe this is a heist gal maybe this is a heist... haha. Kiss. Catch me as I fall off the shelf after three years. Tune up and drop in. I'm every single thing that works by hanging on for dear life, like de Niro Robert De Niro in Greetings and Hi Mom! and I'm as involved as a set piece out of Be Black Baby and Takashi Miiki's Audition. Woah, you say. Yea, Woah. I am tied in to that aesthetic and that sort of shoe string and run and gun world with Burt Reynolds buck naked in a magazine like a young salty dog who never really found a way of getting satisfaction. I mean, do we ever get satisfaction? I'm a greater version than any of the Death Wish films and to be honest when I'm walking through the shops and aisles I think disturbance is my point, my only point and what the hell was I doing? Reaction? Release? Maybe I look over my shoulder in seasons and dream up Argento staging Hitchcockian set-pieces with you. Truffaut as Ed Wood as someone screaming about the shots, like, you can't do a cool film if none of the shots matter. See? Some days I'm leering and other times leery and that's a huge difference and kind of fearless to admit either never mind the pair. You smash it with the way you walk and the interference with atmosphere that comes with you unequivocally. I always thought my best moves were when I was dating Margot Kidder and living with Jenifer Salt and casting Raquel Welch in Danielle and Dominique. And there's nothng classy in that but it's my future and my past too and you can see the bona fide quality of that. I've got clutches but can't sell it like its too yearning and meta and a calling card and a thrill. I'm a rather creepy red herring some nights. A creepy red-herring - which is more a structure than a story to be honest. Sometimes you say the most honest things about yourself without knowing what's invoked is oh so sad and tender. I'm a split personality looking for a divorce. You're looking at Norman Bates one night and the Blanchion Siamese Twins the next. You can't help refuse and muckraking is just another way of looking for a wrap up. And what's the wrap up. Other times when we're not looking I'm Lisle Wilson in Dawn of the Dead honey. I'm the best moments of Dawn of the Dead honey. Oh honey where are you these nights where the rooms are full but you're never there and emptiness spreads across curvy bombshells and razzle dazzle and my forlornness is unsuspecting and these are real tears honey these are real tears honey these are real tears real tears real tears so catch me catch me catch me. I was Oliver Reed in The Three Musketeers which is a kind of bravura slapstick. I'm a bravura slapstick whatever I do and wherever I am. So what are you? Chaplin? Keaton? Something out of Godot? Bataille is all slapstick done as hysterical Mishima and Euripides The Bacchae, slapstick done as Hysterical Mishima and Euripides The Bacchae. So fucked and fucking hilarious. Some days you have the talent to spot existence that matters and other times you're Garbo in Camille and what are we to make of that hey? Hey? Hey? All of this is spectacular and overlapping with the kind of philosophical tension that screws you down oh oh let me screw you down too OOOO OOOO OOO There's a passage of some Cybill Shepherd in David Lynch somewhere I recall. Does that mean I need my characters to talk too fast or for too long or never? Everything is elusive somewhere. What are you possessing and what would you give up? I had a sceance and it was Charles Laughton who came to me as a blessing and he pointed out that I'd never be a classic actress. Halls of anger falldown on the skinny, sensitive and soft. You're the new ingenue but is that just the drink talking? I'm a hurdle with hurdles. That's funny. Outlandishly modern like a Bogdanovich. Come on switch and smile with me. Switch and smile and enchant the whole damned meanings, all of them. This is a tip-off so you don't end up being fucked by another anecdote. Who the fuck are you? And what do you mean? Am I the only one who really remembers you? Am I enough? hahaha. Shit - no. ha no, ha no. Doo be doo be doo, hmmmm. You take me for a spin and I remember the Searchers and Harvey Keitel in Bad Timing with the singer and the sexy daughter of Ken Russell and when I mentioned this you put on your rhythm and blues doo-wap naturalism and guessed everything that was important and transcended all my personality traits. You know that Taxi Driver is always being shot from Travis Bickle's perspective and so we're doing a city with a redneck movie racist as sure as turning the earth. That's what we do in films. We go look and turn the earth. We turn the earth. Now where were we last night in the small space of paraphrased psychos and close up mythic ideal with beers and romance far away in another bar with another space and another beer. That's how these things rise up and we rise up into the dark and glow and glow. You glow in your drifted violent beauty and your time bombs. hey Hey Hey Hey Hey Hey Hey. OOOOO. I know you as a gutsy masterpiece and a gang picture rough piece reaction shot. I can be the white pimp fraud - is that what people have in mind? I talked about Sade with some young turks and they were subtextual and seething and sincere and the kind of sexy tableau I dream about being part of but what gets threaded is just a chance not worth taking. I heard about myself on the grapevine and there were insights instantiated as insults sure. What the fuck eh? So later I walked into a bar and later still worked out what I could and couldn't handle. I'll give this to existence - it sure beats narration. I don't play too bad but it's not enough. It's never enough. I wish I'd been a real-life sherrif or a real life Baader-Meinhof gangster. You, I can see you as a killer force and you hardly move until you do and then you're a big glass sign exploding. Hahahaha. Margaux Hemingway goes after her rapist with a high-powered rifle and you'd clean up Sin City for more of your own brand of action no doubt. Yea, no doubt you'd clean it up real dirty. So sing it, and swing, sing it and swing. it's all in the hips and the way you count down from 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Boom baby. Boom. Boom. yea.fuck yea.