Austin

Writing from Lockhart Texas, about 30 miles to the south of Austin. Tomorrow the solstice will arrive, with temperature around 91F. Three months ago, I was in India, on the tail end of a trip away from Kolkata – to the mountains, Delhi, Agra and then back to the city. There I resumed going to D-Block, the slum area I’d been visiting, taking photos and shooting video, with the collaboration of Aopala Banerjee. I’d missed them, as I do now. Around the same time something flared up in my legs – a swollen right foot, quick tightening of my calves when I went out for a walk. Shireen, Riddhi’s sister, took me to a doctor and I got examined, at first standard blood tests which said nothing seemingly amiss, then a doppler sonar exam, which showed various blockages in arteries and veins. The calf seizing up owing to poor blood circulation starving the working muscle of needed oxygen. Edema. Got a prescription from doctor, different BP, and other things. Had a full cardio exam, again nothing particularly bad for a man my age. New meds took it down but only for a while, and now again a little balloony – likely be like this until The End.

Aopala and I had photos printed of portraits of our D-Block friends, and had them plasticized and took them to hand out to the people there. They were pleasantly surprised and appreciated them, with men who had previously declined suddenly asking to have theirs taken. Curious turn-about.

As I was winding up my stay in Kolkata, in the USA Trump was cranking up the fascism, with people getting arrested on streets, and whisked away to places unknown. I found myself questioning if I should go, returning for screenings in LA, invited by the American Cinematheque. At that time I’d more or less decided nope.

Leaving India as my visa was out I went to UK, visiting friends for a handful of days in London – where I introduced a screening of Robina Rose’s NIGHTSHIFT at the BFI, and saw a handful of friends. And then went to Derry, to visit with Marcella for nearly 2 weeks. Arriving at Belfast Airport, she was there with Uma, her wonderful dog, who instantly recognized me and ran to me. She then enslaved me the whole time I was there, obsessively thrusting her throw-toys on me, keyboard of laptop, and well, what could I do – she is a lovely animal. Marcella had just gotten a new job, which seemed to be going well, for which I was happy. We had a good time – the weather being lovely a handful of days, and then turning Derry-grim. While there I crammed in learning new program, Resolve, making a color corrected file of Sure Fire, which would be showing in LA. A real tedious chore and when I got it done, and sent it to folks there, it would not open. And my laptop crashed and my files would not open – ones I’d looked at before sending. Long story short, they then took bull by horns and did it themselves, albeit when projected it had some problem of syncing that my version had fixed. Ah well.

I went back to London for 3 days, put up by new friends, and flew to LA despite my concerns, which grew worse each day as things in USA tilted to unmasked fascism. Passport control was different – I’d gotten used to the electronic kind, slip the wired document to read, have face scanned, and on you go. I approached with passport in hand, and the person had me stand before a face-scanner, waited a few seconds, and waved me in, not looking at passport at all. I guess facial recognition linked to whatever data base they have on each of us, is now surely AI sophisticated enough. Next step will be the Chinese thing of keeping tabs and having a “good citizen” register.

The day after I got to LA there was a screening of Last Chants for a Slow Dance, and DeadEndz. The former was received very well, and discussion between films was lively and good. I had never seen DeadEndz on a big screen, and it had been quite some time since I’d seen it. Long enough that the order of the sequences surprised me, as did the severe minimalist structure – it was quite effective. Both Frank Mosley and Roxanne Rogers, who were in it, were there and on stage with me. Fun time.

Several days later the screening of The Bed You Sleep In was also good, most of audience had stayed for another kick in the psyche and more bleakness. Bed is a far better film than Sure Fire, which was shown first in a flawed quasi-restoration. There was no Q&A but I stayed in back and a mess of people came up to give a thought or two, some say hello, and then outside the cinema a good 20 plus people stayed to talk, and my friends gathered with me. At some point I saw Rosenthal headed to the cluster I was with and absented myself, though he quasi-shouted “congratulations, Jon,” as if I cared to see or hear him. Gathering with a different group a minute or two later he again made a bee-line to me, clearly looking to talk or something with me. It was stalking. I again left, this time wandering towards those who were not my friends, just film-goers; he shortly followed and approached me, starting to act “friendly,” hand out to shake perhaps. I punched him in the gut. I had my still camera hanging from my neck which limited my force. He stepped back, a bit doubled-up and I stepped forward to hit him again. He fell back, yelling “you’re a coward, you’re a coward,” and as I approached, fled to his car which was parked right there, jumped in and sped away.

_{At Bleak Week screening of Last Chants, and having an American breakfast at Canters.}

I’d made it amply clear I wanted nothing to do with him, not responding to an email he’d sent me a week and some before going for screenings, in a “cheery” mode, letting me know he’d see me in LA (along with a list of demands); I did not respond to that message. I consider his pursuit of me, especially when wrapped in his fake friendliness, a mode of harassment – stalking. I note I am far from the only person to see him as a toxic sociopath. Leaving LA, flew to Austin where friends Jason and Nicole picked me up and drove me to their home in Lockhart. Been here almost 2 weeks, trying to relax, though as usual sucked into secretarial stuff – booking travel tickets, plotting the coming few months, preparing to end in Italy to shoot film in Palermo in October.

Here we’ve had many an evening in the Old Pal Bar, I read Nicole’s books, had nice long talks, a visit to Austin to go to museum and the Ellsworth Kelly chapel adjacent. Has been a good time, thanks to Nicole and Jason.

And today, this morning, greeted for solstice with a letter from Rosenthal making threats by indirection and directly – says he’s filed assault charges against me, etc. Should be a fun screening in a few days in LA. As customary, as with Our Great Leader, sociopaths accuse their victims of the acts they themselves have committed.