At the Dead Lands near Gig Harbor, Washington…
K. Shawn Edgar | Green Warrior | Cog Masher
Say it with frost on your teeth,
deep space is cold.
Madrid is coming.
Or we are coming to Madrid.
She’s always been.
She’ll see you through
to the end.
K. Shawn Edgar | Thief of Fate | Lounge Bunny | Tangerine Juicebox Smuggler
There are moments I can’t remember, and I wonder what they would mean in the larger resolution. Like several movies from when I was a kid, which I know I loved but can only recall shuttering glimpses of their stories. I’ve attempted to convey their plots to friends and family, only I can’t even put more than a few concrete words to the details and feelings I retain. But I know for sure these movies were not dreams because there’s a hardened texture to them that dream memories don’t usually contain. Those are more shimmering, reflective, and soft along the edges. It is the difference between touching chromoly steel and honeycomb cereal.
In the meantime, the beasts do talk. I can hear it in their eyes. Beaming the oldest nonverbal languages, energetically mingled with tonal chirps and grunts, their facial expressions are as palpable — as meaningful — as our English words. I write these words without irony. The beasts tell me to remember the basics: move, drink water, eat greens, engage light, jump, run, clean, sleep, and stretch it out.
In one movie — the older of the two — a band of fantasy characters reminiscent of classic RPGs like The Bard’s Tale III: Thief of Fate, come together on an adventure through wasted, dangerous lands in defense of an usurped king and a wronged prince. (And no, it’s not Hamlet or The Lord of The Rings.) This movie has a goofiness those works don’t — in a good way. It’s low budget, and maybe a bit campy. However, as I remember it, this movie has one of the best character-plot marriages of All Time. The characters and their actions are equally synthesized with the story’s overall world building.
It makes use of many fantasy tropes so smoothly and humorously, the story they imbue bursts out in an original way even though the themes and character types are so familiar. The archer is a thoughtful, elegant elf who can shoot like six arrows a second, and the main male character is a young, super well-trained, strong leader-to-be. There’s a beautiful, athletic woman who acts as the groups heart and compass. And, of course, a giant warrior/dwarf/half-human character who wields a massive axe. Strangely, in this moment, I am not even sure if I’m remembering this or making it up…? Bruce, what movie is this? Does it still exist somewhere?
Agonizingly, I may never remember for sure. This hell doth torment the soulless! However, on this Earth, the sudden blooming of scene clips, dialogue fragments, or plot points crystallizing in momentary sparkles is Soma to my depressed intellect. Their random occurrence calls me back to the first and only viewing of this masterpiece without a concrete name. And I feel again like the me I’ve lost since.
Is this a good thing? Or is it a bad thing? Is it momentary connection or momentary torture? I may never know for sure.
K. Shawn Edgar | Fragmented Time Traveler | Elegant Elf | Wronged Prince Out of Time
Tiny little flicker
focused on atomic
Mini micro minuet
propelled dusty air
Silly small kernels
popped to perfection
Cushy creaky seats
aligned with pinheads
animated by music
moments of emotion
staining each millimeter