The Textelcine rolls forth, lulling the viewer to blissful
joy.
It is finished.
You exit the theater. It has left its mark. Happiness
swells and bitterness lingers, a moment gained forever, a moment lost forever.
Forever.
A moment unique to you, and unique to a multiplicity of yous. Moments
unique to a multiplicity of others, similar in atmosphere, never quite the
same. The cinema is an experience, a book to be read, a message to be
addressed.
How it is
read,
viewed,
portrayed,
interpreted,
themed,
characterized,
specialized,
criticized,
epitomized,
is up to you.
The viewer.
The captive
audience. Viewed for free or charged an arm and leg by the evil corporate
overlords, it matters not. Not in the here or the now, the forevermore and no
more. Cinema has been called a cheapening of creativity, and that is fine. It
is a criticism, a unique experience of the one and the many. But to the many
and to the you it is something more.
It is an
unleashing of burdens and
expression of the soul,
a piece of the puzzle,
an escape from the harshness of
reality or the realization of it.
Textelcine isn’t merely a mush of images
thrown together with sound to couple with it. It is uniqueness exclusive to
you: this moment will be engraved forever in time, forever on the continuum that
can only be experienced by you.
Make of it what you will.
Think of it what you
will.
Do with it what you will.
That is the textelcine.
That is what it means
to be film.
That is what it means to be art.
That is what it means to be text.
What is a text?
