HOLLYWOOD SNOW

Eddie had a misunderstanding about movies, about what they were. I noticed it one night when we were watching Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray. Wait, look at that scene, he said. Look at the snow. Don't you think there's something sneaky about that snow? Dreamy white shreds settled on Andie MacDowell's shoulder. They were building a snowman for the umpteenth time. Watch that snowflake, he said. I've been watching. It never melts. I have all my eyes on this snow, he said. I hadn't spoken for the last three hours, but he went on, talking to me like we were part of the same thing, like we shared these thoughts. Eddie said: They change the camera angle, sure. They make like you're seeing the same thing from a different place. 

Text by Alexandra Kleeman / Images by Lukas Korschan

 

 
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They do it to mix you up. They don't want you to see that the snow is fucked.

I watched him, his mouth talking, opening onto a tongue still bright from cheetos. He picked up the empty bag and tipped it backward down his narrow hole.

Then every single day it was “that plastic rain, that Hollywood snow.” He talked about it more the less I said. Said Eddie: “That sham weather out in LA is gonna kill us all when it mixes in with the real water.”

Outside it was lousy with real water. It was lousy and wet, wet enough to wash the color from dirt. Then, all of a sudden, it was dry for months in a row. Lawns turned to dust and rolled away. There was animal fat in the plumbing. Things half-worked, then they started working less.

I came in from outdoors and dipped my fingers in cola, slid them in to scrub the dust from my mouth. I spit sweet sludge in the other room, in the not-TV room, as Eddie shouted words that were waterier than the words he began shouting weeks ago, sogged down with saliva and blurry at the rims. The only intact piece wasn't even a real word: Dollwater, he was saying, over and over again.

But me, I knew the difference between movies and real life, between fake weather and the weather we only wished was fake. I knew the difference, but still it didn't sound all bad.  Swallowing the plastic water to become plastic myself. Letting the fake liquid turn me fake too, then going outdoors to feel the dollwater bouncing off my dollskin with little plastic sounds, washing off me like plastic off plastic, not dirtying you up on the top layer the way that the real weather did.

But me, I knew the difference between movies and real life, between fake weather and the weather we only wished was fake. I knew the difference, but still it didn't sound all bad. Swallowing the plastic water to become plastic myself. Letting the fake liquid turn me fake too, then going outdoors to feel the dollwater bouncing off my dollskin with little plastic sounds, washing off me like plastic off plastic, not dirtying you up on the top layer the way that the real weather did.