There were all these letters coming constantly, these words and thoughts that would make men strong or weak, they would come out of their barracks rooms and tell us about their wife’s, their kids…their brother’s that owned an NFL team. They would move up and down the floor so, with their hierarchy… I moved towards C barracks knocking on Chris’s door with his stupid jack me off rip off of some writer dry-marked across his front door…
At least we were keeping it real.
There perhaps I would drink and get drunk and piss out a window upon the snow below, there perhaps I could shake him awake and convince him into some great night escapade…
The mail room was funny like that, it always had a light on and it was always open as I remember as a kid… the mail room is always open…
We went in there twisting and turning all the knobs… everybody was sick and tired of a combination to their own life and we wanted it now. One of the twists and turns of all of this was that everyone left their combination open; all you had to do was turn it to the right to open.
We went into the mail room from my direction and filming of course and opened up ever mail box that night.
Spinning perhaps out of control
With all those letters and mail and word falling down upon our jean jacket souls.
We then hence decided to move towards the gym…
Lifting weights and showing the strength of men… playing basketball and never ever making a basket, sitting in the sauna, the racquetball court sliding the camera upon the floor so… almost as if we had our own dreams
Dreamers if you will.
|