This guy drinks the sirup from canned fruit, right, mixed with soda water, fizzy water, not from the fridge, nono: From a dusty old shelf in a supermarket and into his briefcase, where ’sits also two half liters of fizzy water’. It says so in’a here the script, and I’m a’not gonna have an all out with the script writers over that. ’Please, mr. word smiths, in at least every second scene please write in cooling facilities, so he can’a chill his cans and his soda water…’ but No! This dude is off’a everything, fags, chum, pin, dancing, fucking most likely too, but he likes his sugar. And he likes it like HE likes it, lukewarm, or piss warm from a back shelf in a country backroad pie place and market with the sun frying o’erhead.
And that, my chums, that means *I* will like it like it’s writ! I will drink the motherfucker lukewarm canned fruit sirup and lukewarm fizzy water and I will keep on drinking it, until I understand whether or not a person like that can exist, and if not, I will hang out the script jockey to dry from somewhere high, and if yes, possibly, mebby *I* will get me a new fetisch to my repertoire, yeah!
But you know what? No matter what, I am going to be really sugar HIGH for the first time in my life. And I am dreading it! There’s nobody out there who knows what this is like. Doctors have given them advice, I have been suggested precautions, they have measured the sugar in my blood and planned my diet and excersise based on that, ann’a trust them. But they have never tripped on sugar, not consciously. Because this is what this dude does. He trips on sugar.
I don’t know if people can see it in his eyes, I guess I will know how that looks in a few days, but other people will know that he’s onsomething. And it will do something to them.
His behavior will do something to them. I have to discover what that is. Mebbe I already know it. Mebbe its all but a meth or speed freakshow, but mebbe its not. And then I will find out. And I will play it in the movie. I don’t care if its a minor part. He’s a killer, for christ’s sake, and he flies on sugar in a can. That makes him a whole lotta interesting. Even in the background. Don’t you get it?! I’ an actor! I Am An Actor. And I’m done fucking up and thinking other people will cover for me.
That guy who ate burgers, what was his name!? Do you know? Or you? Nobody knows what his name is, dudes, not without googling it. But do they know that his body was damaged from eating supersize MacDonald meals? Yes, they know that his liver fritzed from eating supersize MacDonald meals. Nobody knows his name, and his body was hurt for ever.
I will not let neither happen to me. They will know me, and I will only play the part. I am not a sacrifice for anything or anybody. I portraypeople. I portray emotions. I don’t act to die. I act to live. And to portray life. When I put on parts of a person to find the reason for the coherence between parts, and a full person accidentally rises up in-between, this is not me. This is not anybody. This is character and needs and reactions and actions.
Actions that are like the rain falling on a day deemed sunny. And you have to love it.
*I* want you to love it or hate it. And feel all the little other feelings that are connected to loving and hating. And then I will yet again permit my basking in the false security of being protected all over my skin and all through my inner organs and partly into my heart and to my brain by a phantom I breathe out of my language.
I will be staying with this character and not come out of it before I absolutely have to.
And when that happens I will wann’a wrap it up, put it in a locked compartment in my mind, and go home and be with my family and not be bothered with it. Or by it. It’s all the same.
That is what I want. You don’na have to see me now do things. Strange for an actor to say. But I like my own company better. Better tha’ before. Now is so much more me!
July 8th 2012 © Kenneth Krabat Contact