The Bird of Death

Tuesday, September 7, 2021 (Flying over Kansas)

The one film role that I wish I did, but didn’t, for the apparent reason, is to play Count Orlok in the film “Nosferatu.” I identify with the character because he’s living death or known as “The Bird of Death.” I live in a large home that was slowly decaying due to the lack of money and resources on my part.  For instance, if I’m sleeping on my back, and at a certain angle, I can see the stars right above me in my bedroom.  Luckily there’s a drought in California, or I would be in terrible trouble. I tend to have sleepless nights, so I often wander from one room to another.  Sometimes with a purpose, but mostly not.  I own a DVD copy of “Nosferatu,” and I tend to play it around 3:00 in the morning.  Being half-asleep, and permanently disturbed, I find a certain amount of peace watching this film.

To make savings on electricity and power, I rarely use any lighting in the house, except for the TV, and even that, I only allow so many hours to watch the set. I don’t have cable, so what I watch on the set is mostly my DVD collection.  Rice, vegetable stock for soup, and beans are pretty much my diet these days.  Thank God that there is a local library in my neighborhood, so I can in a sense read books for free.  To remove myself from all the abstractions in the world sets me free to use my imagination.  I often try to imitate the actor Max Schreck who played Count Orlok, to attempt to ground myself in a world that is shifting away from me.  It has been noted that he lived in “a remote and incorporeal world” and that he spent time walking in the forest.

I don’t have any paintings or images on the wall. Nor do I have mirrors.  I have a tendency to forget what I look like, and I sort of like being in a situation where I can never describe myself to anyone.  My only desire is to look like Count Oriok, and therefore why do I need a mirror?

Before dawn hits the sky, I like to wander around my spacious backyard, which is so full of trees and bushes. I love to lie on the dirt and look upwards towards the fading stars, and the reflection of the nearby neon lighting of Glendale, and imagining myself coming from this dirt, yet being part of the sky.  As I get older, I try to imagine what death feels like.  I don’t see it being a painful experience, but neither is it an abstract plane. I sometimes think that I have died, and I’m just floating around the residence with not a purpose or plan.