Memoriam

[Originally "I remember" from Monday, 21 November 2005.] 

As soon as the Twin Peaks theme began to play, the various video recorders came out, began to float in and around my line of vision. I felt a conflict. I had something in my pocket, having also brought it for such a purpose. Not to video Julee Cruise singing Falling—clearly the most popular, most people’s favorite song of the evening, hence the sudden mass of tiny, glowing monitors—but something anyway. The initial nuisance had me thinking that I could in no way justify doing this myself. Yet I knew I wanted to get something in the machine. Am I a vampire? I’ve tried to fabricate a line which could be crossed, to delineate between them and me, which dictates that what I’ve done didn’t impede anyone’s experience. I can’t know this for sure. I did suffer the fate that I imagine for the others, however. That is, that I can’t imagine anyone truly enjoying the experience that was before us, to be experienced, now, when they were so pre-occupied with artificial encapsulation. And what an experience it was; except for the twelve seconds that I spent framing her singing my favorite song. I can watch the crappy quality of that imagery over and over, and I just might, to remind myself that I’ll never get a chance to enjoy that twelve seconds again. I took this picture of the book at the foot of her mic stand when the lights came up after the show. 

 

That's a spider on Horton's head. Hmmm.

 

[Subsequent to this I began an email correspondence with Julee long enough to find out what a spirited personality she had. I also got to know some of her non-Badalamenti/Lynch work, like on The Art of  Being a Girl and My Secret Life, as well as her Pluramon and Khan collaborations. Like me, she liked "more mashed potatoes" for dessert. She began musically on the French horn. May she know eternal peace.]