Treading some old ground here

and yet, the work seems to justify it:

http://www.af.lu.se/~fogwall/article3.html

______________

I love everything about Mr. Satie

the same way I love a cup of coffee, a window, a tiny pencil, a scrap of paper

Or the paper boats I make, and float, with my son.
They are so bold and yet
so frail. They could never
catch fire.

How I love almost every kind of weather,
certain tree stumps,
and black and white movies with the sound off.

I thought once I would make a very quiet
black and white movie
about Satie. I pitched it to the right guy,
but we got busy with something else.
Anyway, it was a simple story. A man
who looks like he's from another century
meets a woman in a grocery store. The woman,
in fact, works in the grocery store. She
runs a register, it's Friday night. Nothing much
of a Friday night. He asks her on a date
(in silent subtitles, this is to be a mostly
silent film), she says yes. She spends
a ridiculous amount of time getting ready --
if the film is 25 minutes, she gets ready for
at least 12 minutes, we see all the
careful calculations, it's wonderful and sad,
she tries on different dresses, earrings, she
throws herself on the bed in agony and then
at the last second, finds an outfit, a necklace,
she is utterly transformed. She looks
gorgeous. The man picks her up and they are
awkward together, his car's a wreck, but they're
getting there. They get there. To a motel.
She's uncertain, worried, he walks her down
the ugly hallway, past the charmless lights,
into a simple room. He lives there, apparently.
He sits her down at a table that he's prepared
for the evening. A bottle of wine, two wine glasses,
"the wine's been breathing," he says
(subtitles), and then he disappears, says,
"just a second," and we're left to wait for
a really long time, she looks nervous, upset,
gets up to leave, and he appears. He's carrying
an old record player. He plugs it in. He opens
the curtains. Traffic's going by. He pulls out a record,
puts it on, sits near her, and for the first time,
we hear music. Satie's music. We sit and listen to it
with them. Nothing happens, except for
the traffic.