T  H  A  T   S  O  N  G
                Illustration by Sara Drake

            T H A T  S O N G

Q: Can your film really even be reviewed? Is this even a “film”?

A: Yes. Insofar as film reviewers will create reviews if and only if they do. In the back.


A figment of dust or a hair or something, floating. It catches the overhead light
and appears like shining, a hot air balloon against someone’s “Stella in ‘58” impression. Like it's chatter on old film reel and smells of vinegar. Like, “Can we even show this?”

Plucked out of the air.

Or, she tried at least. Floating there, seemed like such a target. She isn’t sure if she got it (what would it even look like in her thumb & index if she had? (This is a fool’s gambit, she remembered, from childhood, bored in church)). 

It’s indeterminate.

Some of the attendees look at her for a moment.


Q: Your film makes a cogent point about the refreshing reset qualities of weirdness. Sometimes it's good to get shocked out of complacency. But doesn't there have to be some contrasting element to enrich the shock? My beef with this kind of filmmaking is that when everything is so relentlessly strange it's not invigorating, it's deadening.

A: Yeah. It’s not for everyone. Never said it was - who ever thought it would be?


Look in the air – glaze over – see so much, she thought. Like untethered things. Things in which gravity does not pay to Caesar. Things just bobble. Hairs mostly. Dust, motes. A mote in your eye. That Sonic Youth song.


Q: Where do you get your ideas? Like, for when you're writing your films? 

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