notes on a screenplay
over the next year a screenplay will be hashed out here through a series of notes and images. suggestions are encouraged and funding sources also welcome.

They flew her in to tokyo For a syncronized swimming show at the imperial hotel. she remembered her mother telling her this driving around blind turns of a country road. It was dark and every piece of metal reflected what felt like antelope eyes ready to jump In front of the truck. a year in japan two meals a day in frank wrights hotel. they flew her back to honolulu when she quit. the images came back in bright colors, but the photos were black and white and lost long ago in a fire.
Airport road a landing strip almost invisible in the desert sand. appearing like a mirage. a desolate gas station sells cold coke. strangers become friends after one conversation. watch out for those old trucks, more often then not there cactus thieves. we drove into the desert but could not escape the airplanes which could be heard over our head. i can sure hear them, but i can't see them, can you? in this land the airplane is a common as the auto. you know a whole squadron of those planes flew right into the ground a few years back killing 5 pilots. they follow so close to eachother that if the lead plane fucks up they all do. you could see the smoke for miles. 100 million dollars down the drain just like that. you know this land is so uniform that you have no way of determining scale, you could be 2 miles up or 200 yards, sometimes its hard to tell. we've been driving for hours without saying a word, just looking. the scenery brings you back to the era of silent film. railroad towns spring out of nowhere the large clump of trees gives away the fact that a train depot is nearby. quietly the rail industry has been revived in the desert, beating the truckers in efficiency. rusted water tanks shot full of bullet holes. the black asphalt road is like a river bringing life further into the land. dirt roads are still controlled by locals. prostitution houses at the intersection of ranches, women sold like cattle, diesel engines send clouds into the sky. cold scotch and a sweating ice chest, the desert changes seasons daily. government property takes over vast spaces, we drive no longer conscious of others souls, we are a blip on the security radar screen. a timeless landscape is pierced by our 6 cylinder engine and the rumble of government planes. we are aliens in this land, as sure as if we were driving the roads of europe. this is no longer the america of conscious good looks, these mountains hold a completely different culture which we are piercing and helping to destroy. the cable tv lines are not far behind us. no human can live on this land without the modern conveniences, we are in a land where the two worlds conflict in there strongest and most pronounced state, the ephemeral and the timeless. the native americans in their government built concrete bungalow know that some day all that is built will disappear, the lands will remain for the next generation. thin cities stretch into the desert, buildings connected by power lines and telephone cables, a city of gas stations, rail yards, mobile homes, whorehouses, truck stops, a culture of transportation. driving north on airport road endlessly driving without a destination.
 
 
he parked In the gravel lot across the street from the fina he walked through a dust cloud that still lingered from his wheels turning a moment earlier. he walked quickly hoping to escape the heat and the truck coming down the offramp. he hated stopping but he hadnt eaten breakfast and it was nearly noon.this was the first stop he had seen in 40 minutes and feared that it would be that long before another. the gas station and restaurant/convenient store sat low and long, surrounded by dirt and two dozen semis. the walls were cement block and aluminum framed glass tinted silver. he watched his reflection in the windows it gave him the sensation of being looking at by a man in sunglasses, not knowing where the eyes were, not knowing where to look or If you were being scrutenized. he never wore sunglasses not even in the glare of a desert Sunset. He had to see the colors as they actually were.

saltillo, texas
she wore a long dress and a bow in her hair she felt confined by the large walls and the constant smiles at least she didn't have to go to el salvador like her sister. she hated humidity, she was born in utah and thought she would never leave. but she was feeling confined by these granite Walls, quarried by her ancestors she liked the desert and had a fiancé. a guilt came over her she caught her smile reflected in the temple glass doors.

salt lake city, utah
the road fronted the interstate offramp. signs posted "county upkeep ends, travel at own risk". he stared at his truck reflected in the thin layer of saltponds. asphalt crumbled into gravel as the road dissolved. over the mountains chemical weapons left over from the last war are stored, waiting for the next. in the distance a siloute of a man walking along the ditch, walking east towards salt lake, no services for 40 miles.
© polar inertia 2002