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12 August 2009 No Comment

Sean Penn rose from his sofa and debated. Debated if he should smoke more or read more of the script a new filmmaker on the scene had sent over. He sighed and read more of the script and disliked it immediately; the part they were offering was of a man hitting middle age who has a breakdown while driving a horse and buggy. The breakdown is the the result of his losing his wife to a flood. The entire film is shot from the perspective of the horse’s viewpoint but this is also deteriorated by the horse’s blinders. The writer’s footnotes are agonizing and state that much of the film are peripheral shots of Sean in distress, shots of the road, random shots of various towns blurring by and much blackness. Sean’s had it with art films, he wants to hang up his hat and hit the machismo of action cinema with full force.

He decides he wants to drive to Montana, that the clean expanse of land will clear his head. But he wants to do it in style, so he dons a crisp white shirt, a silvery silk vest and a proper black dinner jacket. He forgoes a bow-tie and decides it’s irrelevant and that the open collar shows more trust somehow. His hair is unruly but he decides this doesn’t matter much as the wind from the cornfields will blow it to high heaven anyway. His trousers are a little musty and look sloppy when he put them on but he decides no one will see that part of him as he’ll be driving much of the time.

On the road, he stops and buys cigarettes and beer and signs an autograph for a twelve year old boy drinking a Slushie. He is surprised twelve year olds watch his films at all and makes a note to possibly makes a children’s comedy the following year. Later after too many cigarettes and beer, he stops by a  replica of a western town. He buys a souvenir ashtray and a beer mug which he will keep on the passenger side of the car. He stops at a tourist photography stand called ” Old West Daguerreotypes” and poses for a photograph. He doesn’t need to don the worn and cheap period costumes as he is wearing his own. The man who photograph him doesn’t recognize him and chats about the weather and the crop turnout that year. He hands him the photo and Sean turns and walks down the dusty street, the bottle of beer sloshing at his side. He drives on happily, the expanse of land behind him.

(This photograph is for sale at my Etsy shop, objetpetita)

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