I watched Ghost in the Shell again last night. Remembering the first time I saw it - in the dark University Avenue Landmark Theatre with the John Waters no smoking PSA in Berkeley.
My mind is stimulated as easily as the Major's nipples in the opening scene. As calmly and quickly as the discharge of her rounds. Has the movie so effected me that I have assimilated it's words, or visa versa. Or do both come from the whisper source: susurrator. The gentle lapping of waves on a dark sea of collective unconscious tree sap?
I love the Major's character. Between her, Aeon and Pippi, I had all the inspiration I needed. All the character guidance. The playful innocence, the audacity and techno introspection.
Tonight on the agenda is Part 2: Innocence. A long drink from the river before I head out into the desert again. It's these paths, these journey's, navigating the landscape. The same stories, same landscapes with a different character.
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