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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Totally Unrelated Blog-a-Thon: "The Impact of the Cities," after Bertolt Brecht. [AN URBAN ADVENTURE IN 18 IMAGES.]

Orange


Leave the woman where she is.
She has two arms of her own
And two legs for that matter
(Which, sir, are no longer any affair of yours).
See that you yourself come through.


Pabst


If you’ve got anything more to say
Say it to me, I’ll forget it.
You needn’t keep up appearances any longer
There’s no one here to observe you.


Daisy


If you come through
You’ll have done more
Than anyone’s obliged to.
Don’t mention it.


Daisy,


Give up your dream that they will make
An exception in your case.
What your mother told you
Binds no one.


Street furniture


There’s a home for you here
There’s room for your things.
Move the furniture about to suit yourself


Masher


Tell us what you need
Here is the key
Stay here.


Removalist


Here’s where you’re to sleep
The sheets are still clean
They’re only been slept in once.


Wall


That’s the room
Hurry up, or you can also stay
The night, but that costs extra
I shan’t disturb you.
You’ll be as well off here as anywhere else
So you might as well stay.


Removalist


When I speak to you
Coldly and impersonally
Using the driest words
Without looking at you
(I seemingly fail to recognize you
In your particular nature and difficulty.)


Lit
I speak to you merely
Like reality itself
(Sober, not to be bribed by your particular nature
Tired of your difficulty)
Which in my view you seem not to recognize.


Scene of the crime


The cities were built for you. They are eager to welcome you.


Don't go in the...


The doors of the houses are wide open. The meal
Is ready on the table
.


Wagon


As the cities are very big
Experts have drawn maps for
Those who do not know the program, showing clearly
The quickest way to reach
One’s goal.


Wagon


As nobody knew exactly what you wanted
You are of course expected to suggest improvements.
Here or there
There may be some little thing not quite to your taste
But that will be put right at once
Without your having to lift a finger.


Dropped


In short, you will be
In the best possible hands. Everything is completely ready.
All you
Need do is come.


Nicotine required


Fall in! Why are you so late? Now
Just a minute! No, not you! You
Can clear out, we know
you; it’s no use your trying
To shove your way in here. Stop! Where do you think you’re going?


Spring


So, of an evening, when we three sit drinking
And my friend shoves the cigarettes aside
And turns his eyes toward her, damply blinking


Breeze


I see to it her glass is never empty
Forcing her willy-nilly to drink plenty
That she may notice nothing in the night.


[Text: Bertolt Brecht; Images © 2007 Ray Pride. Thanks: BB, SR, TL.] [This is entry 2,000 in this version of Movie City Indie.]

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It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

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I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

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My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

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~ David Simon