The Final and Forbiding Doors, Themselves A Kind of Shrine
I have been working on a particular story for a few years. I'm trying to find a way to tell a true story about my own life but translating it into a another place, another genre. This means finding characters amongst whom I can distribute the myriad of voices that constitute the cacophony of voices in my head. I decided that a pilgrimage to California would be a good destination for location-scouting and casting. It's far enough away that it has nothing to do with the "real" me. Right? (Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental) "California" itself was also was one fo the voices in my head. In 1984, it was beginning to be more than a whisper, not yet the poignant conversational partner it would become So the doubleness of visiting a literal, material place that also goes by the name of "California" was deliciously resonant, poetic and outrageous. When I was ver...
