PILAR ELIZABETH POEARTiculate.
Jan 28
Ethnically Blue.
I speak strictly of a problem. The delineation of payroll/bank account (actor) juxtaposing the implications of scene. Scene being set to incite the critical thought process’ regarding emo-based perceptions of morality. Because, ultimately—no matter how the story seems to be told, it ultimately has little to do with the creators true notions of guilt.
If the maker of a grossly earning film feels bad—what, exactly, is so-and-so doing to improve the situation?
It’s one thing to tell a good story, it’s a different kind of thing to sell that story. And how?
Is this “guilt” even intellect (property) the story tellers have rights to sell? Who’s story is it? Why do only certain versions of the story get heard? There is no one trying this case. So, instead, I’m talking about it.
This is a quick write response to Dimas FB comment regarding my beef with the CGI selection in the most recent boxed office hit—Avatar. Beef that the movie wiped out a host of “minority” actors. Granted, there were a few minor roles for “minority” talent, but the starring cast retains these all to familiar classifications: primarily—pale European stock, secondary—spice-like scatterings of earth-tones. But to fit this all into one Campbell’s condensed can or nutshell: my deepest beef stems from our indoctrinated, life-long exposure to these sincere “apologies” from our very real, very present and very powerful oppressors. Oppressing, these days, simply by the by-products of Empirical expansion; the signing of checks, from ancient amoebic bank accounts—casting of roles, by cuts, edits and deliberate implementation of technology, placement of people; props across stAges.
My beef is shaved off the bull raging from that big screen projector. Is it guilt for their big-bull hit nature which buys mother-ships, tanks, jets, hot Latina infantry copter pilots and rights to relocate the indigenous? One Big Bull’s hit, hot off the screen and fresh into the 3-D goggles streamlining the mind’s eye, after another. And, in the end—we all pay the price, which is roughly a twenty-spot, give or take a few for new specs.
I’m not talking about every pale-male. Only the select, and dysfunctional. It may have been a mistake, oops. It needs to be corrected.
Sep 24
“Let them have Healthcare.”
— Pi.
Welcome to my glass house.
[video]
Jul 13
the new addition
a surprise really, seated there
amidst the thorns and blades
of grass blowing breezewise
one of many, really
new additions, planting roots
to grow, to thrive
to wither, and fight
or succumb
folding upon the self
crawling back into dust
y dusk
or, rising like this
armored lotus
replacement
exoskeletal undeniability beautiful; dangerous
dangerous
Jul 05
[video]
Apr 10
apropos.
a perfect cup of coffee
an equally apropos mug
push scents up & swirling
towards an infinite form
of horizon; these lines—we make up:
with eyes, make sense of all;
these angles… perspectives
pulsing… crossing: swing
like Tarzan
upon ropes of binding
particles from see
to shining sea
Mar 19
“The past waits for no body,
the past is but an image. One view,
from one stance, where we once stood.”
— pilar elizabeth
“Your peace will come
when you choose peace.”
— pilar elizabeth
Dec 16
los angeles, aubade you fair well
goldinfifty:Thick molten snake’s coiling and crossing himself compounded across the southerly valleys; unraveling, thinning, misted coastal and mountain ranges as Luna reaches silvered sliver higher — still. Mother spreads herself black. Filial veins of light driving her. Not a living camera can capture the images, in justice.
Boy do they try.
Intelligent Design
God, I love days of feline fancy. One day without work and school is cancelled on account of a greater plan. My time spent hopping along the border of writing my final and whimsy; swimming lapses from laptop to showers head, stopping the bath to perfume my feet, shaving other places twice is nice. Apple lotion and dressing upon the slow crackling hearth because we can’t afford to clean our ducts and the crisp winter is breathing through our walls more efficiently than the generally dominant streaming days of light shuttered out.
Christmas tree lit because my family crashed across our living room floor, down comforters and body pillows tiding them toward Earths Happiest Place (or so “they” say it is) and I haven‘t unplugged (their night lights) nor quenched their fire (both) casting fire light shadows jitter buggin our adobe holiday cave. Using extra q-tips after baking chocolate chip cookies. Making a 5-course breakfast spread lavish for the special guests arranged fresh by revolving pots of coffee and silver-needle tea with wild-flower honey.
Holding all of this moment solid in mind. Forced moment strings of benevolent Nature, perfections of being, informing us through coincidental nurture that the universe is built and spins in our favor, despite our timely, linear, indoctrinated resistances.
Wrenched reminder that a kitty is built to preen and nap while dogs must gnaw and rebury their bones.
Be the light, she says.
