quarta-feira, 27 de fevereiro de 2013

SWOON

DISINTEGRATION NATION

Mash-up-videopoem by Swoon...truth and fiction in the US...TV and violence...reality and fear...
Poem by Howie Good
Concept, editing, music & voice: Swoon
Footage: 'Kansas City Confidential' (Phil Karlson, 1952 - public domain)
CCTV from the security tapes of the Kelly Thomas beating (Youtube 'Voice of OC.org)



Fact.
Kelly Thomas was born April 5, 1974 to Ron Thomas, a former Orange County Sheriff's deputy, and Cathy Thomas. Thomas, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia, was a "fixture" among Fullerton's homeless population. The death of Thomas has sparked debate about systemic reforms in treatment of the mentally ill.

Fiction.
Four robbers hold up an armored truck, getting away with over a million dollars in cash. Joe Rolfe, a down-on-his-luck flower delivery truck driver is accused of being involved and is roughly interrogated by local police.

Fact.
Kelly Thomas was a homeless man with schizophrenia who lived on the streets of Fullerton, California, before he was severely beaten by members of the Fullerton Police Department on July 5, 2011. After paramedics treated the officers first for minor injuries, Thomas was taken to St. Jude Medical Center before being transferred to the UC Irvine Medical Center, where he was comatose on arrival and not expected to recover. He never regained consciousness, and died on July 10, 2011.

Fiction.
Released due to lack of evidence, Joe, following the clues to a Mexican resort, decides to look for the men who set him up both to clear his name and to exact revenge. What he doesn’t know is that the heist involves a retired policeman who is also intent on revenge.

Fact.
Kansas City Confidential is a 1952 film noir crime film directed by Phil Karlson and starring John Payne. The plot was inspiration for Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs. The film is to be found (public domain) on the internet.

Fiction.

Disintegration Nation (a poem by Howie Good)

Everywhere it's gray and drizzly
like an ex-con's faded tattoos

or the emptiness of a Sunday evening
when the next day meant school.
Some doors can't be opened;
others click close behind us.

The heart silently screams.

A true story,
but with some words missing.


The ghosts of the murdered,
whose habitual condition is rage,
gather up bayonets and guns.

You travel throughout the land,
weeping in every capital.

Fact.

Disintegration Nation is a poem by Howie Good, from the collection 'Dreaming in Red' (Right Hand Pointing Press, 2011) collected especially for the benefit of the Crisis Center (Birmingham Alabama) The Crisis Center is a non-profit agency in Birmingham, Alabama offering suicide prevention, services to victims of sexual assault, day treatment for the indigent mentally ill, and other services.
Howie Good's poems slip under your skin like parasites, the ones that your high school science teacher said might be good for you These are dark poems with a bright inner-core. Good, perhaps our best contemporary noir-minimalist poet, is back with a vengeance. Here, soothsayers, wild birds, the sun, and yes, even assassins with a sense of humor, offer antidotes to the darkness that surrounds us.


DRIFT

Film by Swoon based on the poem "For two NATO soldiers who drowned in an attempt to recover supplies from a river in the province of Badghis, Western Afghanistan, November, 2009" written and read by Paul Perry
Words & voice: Paul Perry (paulperry.ie/)
Concept, add. camera, editing & music: Swoon
Thanks : Beachfront B-roll (beachfrontprod.blogspot.be/)
Cullen McHale (youtube.com/user/CullenMcHale)





For two NATO soldiers who drowned in an attempt to recover supplies from a river in the province of Badghis, Western Afghanistan, November, 2009.
(a poem by Paul Perry)

two boys lie
head down
in water

turning
like the hands
of a dial

they make up
the body
of a cold clock

their winter numbers
frozen
no alarm-bell

rings out
no shock is captured
in the atmosphere

nor is it known
how suddenly
they fell

into the water’s gasp
or how quickly
they succumbed

to the icy
verisimilitude
their pale still

faces drawn
towards the bottom
their eyes starless

and threadbare
emerging
from the corner

of one mouth
a delicate bead of air
from the other

nothing –

at dawn
I fill
their pockets

then rinse
their hands
with light
Drift raises the question of the necessity of military actions anywhere. A bleak description of a sad accident juxtaposed with images of what boys of their age could be doing at the same time.


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