Blackthorne--Scene Twenty-Three

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Twenty-Three

Errands

“You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish

yourself if you forget the errand.”--Woodrow T. Wilson.

1(medium reverse shot) Buck crossing the wide dusty street,

the black dog trotting in his shadow.

2(sound cue) guitar & muted coronet.

3(wide shot) the sun is approaching late morning, and it is

brightly baking the buildings; steam is rolling off horse troughs.

4(medium wide shot) Buck stops in front of Wallace’s Store,

putting his hands on his hips.

5(traveling steadicam-shot) through one of the windows--

the store was full of thin raw-boned women in washed-out

calico dresses, wearing plain cotton bonnets, with pods

of their children in over-sized hand-me-down clothes standing

& eying fat jars of tall peppermint sticks, colorful gum drops,

and thick bars of chocolate in dark wrappers.

6(sound cue) banjo strumming & harp plucking.

7(medium close up) Buck shaking his head & smiling, then

patting his big red roan on the neck, 

8(close-up) the roan bobbing its head.

9(close-up) the man smoothing & petting its silken coat, as

the skin shivered some under his gentle touch.

10(medium close-up) the empty saddle, with no sack of

provisions hanging from its pommel.

11(three-shot) the hunter, his horse & dog:

--Buck: well fellas, no vittles yet, so this might be a good

time for me to scrape my face & chop my mane.

12(close-up) Buck scratches behind the dog’s large ears.

13(sound cues) dog softly whining, the horse stamping its

back hoof, flies buzzing over a saloon piano in background.

14(medium close-up) Buck pushing his hat back, stroking his

beard, and staring across the street at the CHINA DOLL.

15(medium wide shot) the front of the saloon, with a lot of

commotion going on inside, with two porch riders, the fat man

& the beanpole, standing watch from their bench.
16(sound cue) soft six-string guitar chords & harmonica.

17(medium close-up) angle on Buck, pulling his hat back down,

his blue eyes in shadow.

18(traveling crane shot) panning the side of the street Buck

was on; the Barber Shop was a couple of blocks down, next

to the tiny Mexican cantina.

19(sound cue) Spanish guitar.

20(medium shot) Buck’s POV, angle on his back

as the porch loafers are now on their feet.

--Buck: fuck it.

21(medium close-up) He jerks out the long-barreled

Sharps from its buffalo hide boot, its sixteen lethal

pounds felt good in his calloused hands. He loosened

the thumb screw at the base of the open sight, & reset

the aperture disc for under a 100 yards; then he put

the rifle to his shoulder and sighted at the two men.

22(zoom into medium close-up) the two loafers on the

saloon porch quickly sitting back down, then shifting

their gaze to a checkerboard set up on a pickle barrel

between them. 

23(close up) Buck’s face, eyes still in shadow:

--that’s it, assholes, pretend you didn’t notice.

24(sound cue) violin & piano.

25(shift to medium wide-shot) the hunter begins walking

toward the Barber Shop, staying out in the street, with

the black dog behind him; a freight wagon moves past

him pulled by a team of chestnut geldings, then a fancy

buggy with a young couple in it, the man wearing a green

suit & matching bowler hat, & several cowpokes with gray-

white dust on their leather chaps & boots.

26(crane shot) slow pan as Buck walks--several people

passing him from up on the boardwalk, but no one

acknowledging him. One young girl pointed at him, but

her mother grabbed her hand & hurried on. No one

asked him if he needed aid, advice, or directions. 

27(hold the traveling shot) as it reveals an alley between

the blocks, and we see two Mexican whores sitting on

boxes & pallets, wearing bright colored blouses and flowing

pleated skirts, smoking long brown cigarettes, and petting

a collie.

28(medium close-up) one of the prostitutes waves at Buck,

blowing blue smoke-ring kisses from her smiling red lips.

29(sound cue) castanets & accordion.

30(medium close-up) Cheewa touching noses with the female

collie, her head & tail down & motionless.

31(return to medium wide-shot) Buck stopping in front of Barnes'

Barber Shop, its thick barber pole freshly painted red & white,

the false front white-washed, the twin windows trimmed in red.

32(medium close-up) Buck opens the front door. 

33(reverse shot) the door swinging open with Buck 

entering the shop.

34(sound cue) two cow bells clanging.

35(two-shot) over Buck’s shoulder, the barber looking

up from reading a newspaper, then quickly rising from

one of his two swivel barber chairs.

36(close-up) Barber:  Wheeeehew! what is that

wonderful smell?

37(close-up) Buck: buffalo blood, beer, & pussy.

38(close-up) Barber: thanks for sharing. 

Glenn Buttkus

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Devotionals

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Devotionals

“Nothing truly valuable arises from ambition, or from a mere

sense of duty; it stems rather from love & devotion towards

men & objective things.”--Albert Einstein.

Not all love

starts with the tangled skein

of steaming lust,

but

certainly whatever

prompts

our affections

is laden with passion

as purple as plums

or pregnant prose.

We can appreciate good manners in others,

we yearn for the warmth of Spring,

we seek kinship with those we care for,

we are fond of chocolate mousse,

we have a crush on the boss’s secretary,

relishing her favored low-cut bodices;

we’re mad about poetry of all kinds,

we can be devoted to some of our friends,

a sports team, or a dog;

we often are infatuated with banana splits,

& we can be zealous about driving our classic

1968 Chevrolet SS Impala convertible with the

396 mill, & four-speed manual transmission--

or we can worship the wild wind 

that sounds like a church choir 

       as it swirls around the treetops;

some of us seem to idolize certain celebrities,

       while others like to nurture friendships with buskers

we often respect clever wordsmithing, 

or cherish the pristine negative ions 

that saturate our souls

while beach-combing, 

or remain in a state of rapture

following a great film or live performance.

So it seems

that Love wears many masks,

and has numerous

cousins & guises,

& I really dig that;

for it certainly

beats the hell

out of the alternative,

just settling for the dark side

of things. 

Glenn Buttkus

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Cuckold Coupe

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Cuckold Coupe

“In marriage, the greater cuckold of the two

is the lover.”--Paul Gauguin.

The feisty flathead V-8 sped up as it dropped into overdrive.

It had a thunderbolt on the hood, flames on the side,

a 1950 Ford coupe streaking through the rainy night. 

He had to find her, the bitch had lied;

fists clenched on the steering wheel, vengeance to wage--

a broken heart, yes, but pride still had to be saved.

She would be sorry after his angry point was made.

How could she be so cruel with such an angelic face?

There’d be no punching, she wouldn’t need a nurse.

How could such a demon want to be married in a church?

As torn up as he was, he knew she’d soon feel worse;

he wanted to hold her down & crap in her purse. 

One thing for sure, he’d get his ring back,

“Becky, you knew better than to treat me like that!”

Glenn Buttkus

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Blackthorne--Scene Twenty-Two

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Twenty-Two

Dead Time

“When my time comes, just skin me, stuff me, & put me up

there on Trigger, just as though nothing had ever changed.”

--Roy Rogers.

1(sound cue) leather creaking & cicadas chirping.

2(two-shot) over Millie’s shoulder, angle on Buck slipping on

his black leather vest.

3(sound cue) Spanish guitar strumming.

4(close-up) Buck thumping down red & green shotgun shells

on one side, and tall brass .50 caliber Sharps shells on the other.

5(medium close-up) Millie watching him, her eyes sad, her 

lips pursed.

6(close-up) Buck: Thor Bronson--my guess is that he is slippery

fast & mean as a scorpion in your boot.

7(close-up) Millie, shaking her head in agreement.

8(sound cue) soft drumstick baps, & twinkling cymbals. 

9(medium close-up) Buck tying down the lethal Colt to his right leg,

the inlaid silver stallion on the holster reflecting the sunlight.

--Buck: so mean he kills men before breakfast for farting at the table.

10(sound cue) four muffled rapid pistol shots, overlapped by guitar

strumming rapidly.

--he kicks dogs & children, pistol whips women as foreplay, and uses

a Gaucho bullwhip for ticks.

11(close-up) Millie:

--sure, something like that, they say he’s run out of room to put

notches on his guns. 

12(sound cue) banjo & bassoon. 

13(medium close-up) Buck pops the snap on his strange wide left 

holster, extracts & examines the sawed off hog’s leg; checks the load,

and shoves it back into the holster.

--Buck: Sweet Millie, will you remember me?

14(close-up) Millie: hell no--I like you.

15(medium close-up) Buck raising his eyebrows, a twinkle in his blue

eyes:

--Millie: I’m afraid you’ll be shot dead before lunch.

--Buck: the name’s Rod, Roderick Buck.

16(close up) Millie.

17(sound cue) her door closing, & the heavy thump of his footsteps

moving down the hall.

--Millie (in narration) from what savage breast did this man appear, 

from what darkness?

18(medium shot) Millie’s silhouette standing at her window watching

the old yellow tomcat creeping up on a dirty brown starling pecking

at caterpillars that had nested between the split shingles--then

the hunter stepped into sight.

19(medium crane shot) camera moves out over the roof, & down

onto the street, falling in behind Buck.

20(switch to reverse traveling steadi-cam shot) Buck walking toward

the camera as it pulls backward away from him--his tall body striding

with a graceful ease for a big man walking into the hot morning. 

21(sound cue) violin & harmonica.

22(medium close up) a neat stack of five silver dollars on the

doilyed night stand, alongside a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

23(close-up) the teddy bear’s blank face in the wicker basket.

24(medium shot) Millie folding up the burgundy colored blanket

that she had wrapped around herself, her back to the window;

25(sound cue) the tomcat killing a bird.

26(hold the shot) Millie standing naked, her heavy arms folded

over her breasts, in the harsh light.

27(close-up) Millie with silent tears rolling down her powdered

cheeks, her eyes closed.

28(sound cue) strident notes on saloon piano. 

Glenn Buttkus

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Iron Horse

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Iron Horse

“Sculpture occupies the same space

as your body.”--Anish Kapoor.

Along the busy highway

heading up toward Mt. Rainier,

an artist, a metallurgic iron sculptor,

has his studio--

a very large warehouse-like barn,

that has to be lit with floodlights

& open hay loft doors, where

he creates huge sculptures

of everything;

horses, giraffes, ostriches, roosters,

bulls, saddles, pioneer conestoga wagons,

motorcycles with skeleton riders,

T-Rexs, tortoises, raptors, cows, bear,

elk, deer, moose, bison, even Sasquatch--

all life-sized or bigger, made from

scrap iron gathered from all corners

of the world, old car fenders, grills,

bumpers, radiators, wheel rims,

brakes, drive shafts, pistons,

steering wheels--broken discarded

factory machinery & steam shovels

& earth movers & D9 Cats--gears

with broken teeth, from fist-sized

to 8 foot tall behemoths--old stoves

& ovens from the 30’s, washing machines,

refrigerators, fans, truck winches, doors,

& hood ornaments & license plates--

with a cluttered scrap yard fenced in

behind the barn, piled high with fresh

junk, laced with sparkling patina;

& every finished sculpture, scattered

about on over an acre, 

are just bare metal, 

covered with delicious rust, 

nothing ever painted or stained,

standing naked & proud.

One of my favorites is the Iron Horse,

no not one of the five actual horse

sculptures made of iron, but a life-sized

train locomotive, made up of commercial

boiler parts, with large stunning rivets

dotting the rotund surfaces, tall iron-

rimmed wheels off farm equipment,

with bed frame rails connecting them

together, metal pipes decorating every edge,

wrought-iron spines, a towering smoke stack

made up of severed metal barrels, and

the metal bindings off wooden barrels,

the empty housing of a stolen street clock

comprising the locomotive’s large headlight,

a cow-catcher comprised of cut-up car doors,

with an engineer’s cab made up from re-cut

out slabs of flat steel plates.

Not only are there dozens of sculptures

to look at, walk around, touch, & enjoy, but

there are also patios, porches, & lawns

littered with decomposing bicycles, children’s

red wagons, toy cars, cribs, wringer washing

machines, antique stoves, fireplace hardware,

several rocking chairs and fat tea pots

with plants growing out of them, & pieces

of furniture made from elk, deer, & moose antlers--

an abstract Wonderland, art to interact with,

the life’s work of a genius, a welcoming space

where one can wander for hours for just

a five buck donation shoved into a shark’s mouth

made up from old clutches & pressure plates;

sometimes the sculptor is actually there, working

in the open barn, usually 12 feet high up on a

pipe scaffolding, perhaps welding a head onto

another dinosaur--

you can wave at him, but he has his welding mask

down & pretends not to notice you, just focusing

on the torch flame & his next weld--so you just

leave him to it, smiling on the way back to your car,

wearing, hugging the magic you’ve participated in. 

Glenn Buttkus

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Just Tired

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Just Tired

“I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.”

--John Lennon.

acoustic guitar, repeat chords, soft strumming.

Tired of winter, tired of ice I say,

Just can’t wait for a better day.

electric guitar, hot licks with reverb.

Tired of my job, tired of feeling

nothing, out of balance, reeling.

snare drum solo.

Tired of those arguments with my wife,

tired of struggling with my life.

cello bowing with long sobs.

Tired of all those aches & pain,

tired of having to walk with a cane.

saxophone & bright piano.

Getting tired of waiting for that big windfall,

facing uncertainty, back against the wall.

spanish guitar, flamenco licks with castanets.

Can’t open my eyes without a jolt of caffeine,

then the withdrawal, getting cranky & mean.

harmonica huffing train-like slides.

Tired of climbing all those damn stairs,

tired of sitting on all my broken chairs.

saxophone & clarinet duet.

Tired of being envious of the rich,

tired of searching for the witch.

cello & violin string riffs.

Just tired, man, way way down deep,

pissing all night, a stranger to sleep.

harmonica & blues guitar slide.

Tired of billionaires telling me, hey,

work harder to build a better day.

six-string guitar blues double slide.

I know I should be thankful while waiting

for my 70th year, should not be just hating

jazz brushing over a clarinet line.

those who have more, have accomplished more,

who keep sending our children off to war;

juice harp twang over trombone slide.

but those fat cats really make me mad,

cuz I do miss what I never really had.

base guitar throbs.

Hell, I’m just like you, just getting old,

tongue gets sharper, my words grow bold.

lovely piano line.

I guess it’s comforting to be a poet,

just patting up the row before I hoe it;

harp plucking over violin.

Cuz all my bitching doesn’t mean a thing,

no money in the mail, no bells to ring.

sitar chord over accordion line.

I am actually thankful for having a strong voice,

living in a land where I have more than one choice.

acoustic guitar, soft chords.

I tell you, folks, it’s great now to be retired,

it was tricky working 50 years without getting fired.

harmonica lullaby over a long sad train whistle. 

Glenn Buttkus

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Blackthorne--Scene Twenty-One

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenic Twenty-One

Warning

“People have been warning us that language has been

going to the dogs ever since Latin started turning into

French.”--John  McWhorter.

1(medium shot) angle on the interior of Millie’s room.

2(sound cue) violin & harp.

3(two-shot) Buck enters the room with Millie shadowing him,

closing the door behind them.

4(sound cue) the spin of a Colt revolver cylinder.

5(close-up) two empty brass pistol shell casings hitting the floor.

6(sound cue) the spent ammunition hitting the wood floor.

7(medium close-up) Buck thumbing out two fresh cartridges

from his shell belt, & replacing them in the Colt .41.

8(two-shot) Millie bends over, the blanket slipping off her naked 

breasts, picks up the empty shells, then walks over to her open

window, while Buck unbuckles his gunbelt & plunks it on the bed.

9(medium shot) Millie tosses the empty shells out of the window.

10( sound cue) the casings rolling across the roof.

11( hold the shot) in the foreground, Buck begins pulling on 

his tight leather leggings:

--Buck: who is this Paully?

12(medium close up) Millie is staring out of the window, with

her back to Buck:

--Millie: trouble.

13(sound cue) blues guitar double-slide.

14(close-up) Buck: what kind of trouble?

15(two-shot) Millie turns to face the man;

--you’d better ride on.

16 Buck is pulling on his boots:

--ride on to where?

17(medium close-up) Millie: out of this town, to nowhere, to where

ever the hell you came from.

18(sound cue) small bells chiming over Buck’s rough laughter.

19(two shot) Millie’s back to the camera, Buck pulling his

buckskin shirt over his head, his abs flexed.

--Buck: lady, I’m through riding; this is the last stop,

the end of the line; Iife has run out of rails.

--Millie: then you are probably dead; can’t you hear the

guns cocking all over town?

20(sound cue) harmonica slide then huffing.

21(medium close-up) Buck’s head emerging out of the

shirt, smiling: --maybe.

22(medium two-shot) over Buck’s shoulder, angle

on Millie: that was Bronson’s little brother you tossed

out that window like a sack of goat shit.

23(reverse two-shot) over Millie’s shoulder.

--Buck:  Bronson, huh?  he’s got his brand on most things

around here.

--Millie: on the townspeople too, Cash Bronson is the king 

toad in this horseshit burg. 

24(close-up) Buck: yeah, yeah, the Jefe’ --well he & I

are going to have to parlay sooner or later. 

--Millie was silent.

25(sound cue) saloon piano, pioneer fiddle.

26(two-shot) Millie sits on the bed next to Buck--they

both stare blankly out the window.

27(sound cue) a tom cat’s yowl.

28(tighten the two-shot) Millie rests her head against

Buck’s thick shoulder, her long red hair covering one eye.

--Buck: tell me about Paully.

--Millie: Paul Bronson; he’s the little brother. You did a fine 

job of introducing yourself to him over in Lulu’s room.

29(sound cue) accordion & clarinet.

30(close-up) Buck: so what the fuck’s the matter with

the crazy blond?

31(medium close-up) Millie: she thinks that Paully

is her lover.

32(two-shot) Buck: didn’t appear to me that they were exactly making

love over there.

--Millie: Paully is a piece of arrogant dog shit, hides big time

behind his brothers--Lulu loves him regardless; but then

no one can say she is the sharpest tool in the shed.

33(medium shot) Buck stands up:

--does he treat her like that on a daily basis?

--Millie: only when he is shit-faced drunk. He always comes

crawling back afterward, his mouth full of sorry, & his dick

in his hand.

--Buck: sounds like a real humanitarian.

34(medium close-up) Millie: he stays here most of the time;

his brothers stay out at their hacienda while he hangs around

here drinking, whoring, gambling, & picking fights.

35(sound cue) banjo & jazz brushing.

36(two-shot) Buck: anybody ever stand up to him?

--Millie: You’re the only one still standing.

--Buck: his brothers settle things for him?

37(close-up) Millie: you haven’t heard about Thor?

Glenn Buttkus

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