Saturday, January 17, 2009

the extra's plea

While I was working as an movie extra I found a piece of paper folded up and stuck into an empty tea tin in a coffee-shop façade. The piece of paper said:

"The Extra’s Plea

Let’s go to Los Angeles, every-one, and when we’re there, well – we’ll make it, we’ll make it. Like the isolated and lonely and drama-filled souls baring their souls or feigning their souls on the screen for fun, and they usually hate it unless they’re smashing cars into each other. Let’s go to Los Angeles with good posture and good structure and figure out exactly what people want to buy, and we’ll do anything, we’ll walk in circles and eat shit and pray for a glance or a meeting by chance, which will, because it must, pull us out of this wretched and friendly mediocrity. Our face is always downcast, especially when we smile; our laugh is never genuine, from over-use. We have our own language, it’s very handy. The language of packages. Pre-packaged conversation is the easiest kind. Prepared beforehand for easy access, we never have to converse or interact – pick and choose. We are the depressed and the downcast, we are the pre-packaged, unknown, pick-and-choose, desperate clones, and please, please, make it, make it, because it will wash us, it will make everything better, because everything sucks and it could be so much better, if people knew our name, and our face, and asked us to do things and to be places and to pretend like we’re someone else. That’s all we want anyway.

-An Extra"

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