Eraserhead

I walk around the house, drunk. I’m wearing women’s slippers. Man,
I must be a sight to behold. But I’m not quite sure. I lost my mirror and the
pizza I ordered offers no reflection
I walk around the house. I think of people who have fouled me and, therfore,
should die. But, then, I think of all the interesting crafts you can make with
toilet paper rolls
Once a year, I get drunk in a darkened house for a week. I get drunk and watch
Eraserhead, as I think we all do sometimes. It’s my vacation
Once a year, I have a little black & white drunk-a-thon. No phones,
not a single luxury. My horoscope has been suspended. Loud industrial noises
The first three days, I just watch. Well, I drink and watch… Eraserhead
The third and fourth day, I usually find myself pacing, circling the TV,
looking at the glow from behind. A pause for a pizza. I won’t eat it.
I just order it to prove I’m still in control. Eraserhead
By the end of the week, I interact with this majestic little film.
Not so much words as gesticulations. I kiss the screen. I rub my buttered
belly on the screen, as I think we all do sometimes
I roam around the house, the darkened, drunken house. Sometimes,
and this is gonna be about an hour before dawn, I put a rose up my bum.
You know, the business end sticking out. And I sort of improvise a playful
dance in my surroundings. «La-la la-la la-la la-la Eraserhead!»
If you were there, in my house, you could follow a trail of those rose petals
and they would lead to me, curled up, fetal position, quivering, crying,
my teeth chattering, industrial Eraserhead-type noises coming from inside…
me
And, as you pick me up and wrap me in a blanket, my vacation would be complete
This behavior might disturb me if Eraserhead weren’t such a fine little film.
Don’t you think?