To start: Martin Scorsese, The Big Shave. 1967
I have this plan to purchase and consume an entire box of Thin Mints all by my lonesome. Happily I am having my period right now (AND HOW! Oh my GOD!) and the Girl Scout Cookies come in tomorow so this plan is really working for me.
And I had this idea to record myself eating this box of Thin Mints, because it's just funny for some reason, in a 64-slices-of-American-cheese kind of way, to do a thing like that. I mean, you are ALL going to do it. I know you are. You are going to buy those cookies and you are going to eat them all, and we will collectively pretend we are sooo disgusted by ourselves and this completely unanticipated behavior has taken us entirely by surprise and we just looked down and found two empty plastic sleeves on the table in front of us and who could have foreseen such a thing?
But we knew all along, didn't we?
So we have this pristine white bathroom, now. White vintagey sink, white floor tiles.
Wouldn't it be great to film myself eating those cookies in front of the bathroom mirror? Standing over the pure white sink? Sean remarked upon the superficial similarity to Scorsese's The Big Shave and damned if some shit didn't fall right into place.
Here's what I would do, were I so inclined:
Stand there in a white towel, contemplating myself in the bathroom mirror. Set the Thin Mints box on the sink. Open the box.
Take out a sleeve and open it up. Watching myself in the mirror, eat the first cookie. Second, third, so on. Okay.
Fish out the second sleeve of cookies. Open it.
Cut to the white tile floor between my feet. SPLAT. Blood.
Trickling down my leg. More blood.
Up to the mirror. More cookies. Cookies cookies cookies.
Floor. Blood blood blood. Running down my legs. Splattering everywhere. (At this point I don't even think I'd need special effects.)
But how to end it exactly? I'm not sure. I am sure, however, that this film needs never to exist except in our collective imaginations, so I promise not to actually make it. What would it be talking about? The tyranny of hormonally driven eating as it intersects with Big Agriculture's refined grain and sugar combination and the futility of resisting it? How we pretend to lie to ourselves about our intentions regarding that box of non-nutritive foodstuff? How fucking awesome it is to make things that look like other, well-known things?
All I know is that it made Sean almost throw up. So mission accomplished, is what I'm saying. That dude has been sharing my bathroom and headspace for twelve years, and I can still gross him out.