i also had some camera problems

It's June 17,
I sit in a dim-lit bedroom,
measured here in a standard of sum meters,

my lights are broken,
i pay too little in rent for anyone to fix them,

the piso is empty,
everyone in this city is at a bar, or at plaza de colon, watching the game

i am anxious.

eye sight badly blurred.
best friend ill on her birthday.
i am full from eating too fast.
my heart pumps racing
i feel coffee breath vomit in the back of my lump-sack sounding board

had my first two interviews today.
1) fabiana
2) dani

i lost it,
focus and attention,

i don't know how, after 9 months of thinking about this fucking movie,
where it went in the forest of no answers
i saw only tall trees that block visions,
i now feel unsure and wobbly, knees banged too frequently against each other,
i want sleep.

an imagined paradise has turned too real.

i lost something today,
which is not to say that tomorrow i am giving up,
because i am not,

but i do have to rethink it all.

why am doing this documentary?
what direction it should take?

i have been lazy.
didn't bring photos of the swastikas or the sickles,
one of my interviews felt that he had never seen these daggering stultifying symbols before,
felt removed like suburbia from inner cities,
that's just not okay with me,
they are everywhere,
and nazi's do roam this city cold and violent like the ideologies they possess

who am i trying to disprove?
what am i trying to change?

my friends here, they tell me of my potential
to identify
to act
to move

i don't have that same faith in myself,
not today.

the answers are not obvious.
there is no bad guy.
some people just don't see it the way i do.

maybe today it's just graffitti.
maybe art is just beauty.
maybe the streets are just there.

who am i serving?
what is my deal?
who am i manipulating?

why
escrito perfectamente en espanol,
mis preguntas no tuvieron sentido a nadie sino los otros extranjeros,

i saw today such a difference in the way foreigners and natives can see the same symbols on the same streets in a city they have both just moved to.

i felt resistant, and resistance,
and shock,
realizing
that once again,

i have returned to wonder
where the lines fall in the sand,
and if i am the one drawing them.

seriously.
all i seem to find are differences.
and now i am making art about it.

am i really moving us where we want to go?
is this really water i am ready to tread?

my heart feels cold even though it's swelling fast.
my palms beat twice as heavy.

tomorrow, the forcast is sunshine.

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