ICYMI, Part IX
Maybe one of the more compelling laws about adoption found in the Code of Hammurabi is the edict which states that if an adoptive parent fails to properly care for their child, that child is allowed to return to their biological [father]’s house. In the same vein, the CoH also states that when speaking on the familiar topic of rebellion/resistance to authority, if the adopted child discovers their biological parents and abandons the adopted family, they lose an eye. Yemahs never disclosed where her stance was on capital punishment, but was adamant that Assyrians were the first people to expand past the Tigris river and hence, the progenitors of modern civilization. She was unshaken and very agitated when I told her about a Tinder date who was Persian and made similar claims.
“That bitch is just stupid. They (Persians) all say that but Assyrians were here before them!”
After a tumultuous breakup with Ms. Lussa Shahenna, I find it difficult to recall whether she slapped my face with her left or right hand. I try not to think about that anymore and instead have dreams of an intimate encounter with an old boss from Albuquerque that never happened but left an impression all the same. I have recollections of sweaty anal sex with Yemahs at The Monarch, stolen bath robes from the comped suite, and my innate attraction for women of class clashing with my inherent disdain for the bourgeois. It's quite possible I'm just one of those conflicted goons best left incapacitated and out of my depth when speaking about the world outside.
I don't fear 6pm bells from a church tower across the way as much as I’m afraid of timely thunder and distant lightning- an imprisoned mentality of the violent nature in which I was raised. I can clearly see, now, the differences between how I was treated, how I’m being treated, and how I want to be treated.
I can see the subtle space between personalities like Anna and Jill. Anna is a cam girl who works part time at a movie theater and takes online courses at CU Boulder in hopes of earning a BFA in English. Jill is a ballet instructor for an HOA community in Littleton, bartends on weekends while rescuing senior dogs from shelters/unsafe living conditions.
While she doesn’t like it when black people are racist toward white people, Anna’s uncomfortability with acting out Raceplay and MILF videos over a VPN and the absurd requests from her local fanbase; it doesn’t deter her from getting that paper in a 98° bedroom, and after her recent seizures, she has no qualms asking that one of her sugar daddies send Wal-Mart delivery packages to her doorstep, in spite of his offensive chatroom requests.
Jill visits her father, a former aerospace engineer, in a senior hamlet and has the hindsight to see that her mother is much kinder (after recent health scares) than the matriarch she knew growing up. Jill’s father is the best dancer at 91, and his new girlfriend has to tell other women to back off because they all want to dance with him.
That man can move…
***
On 7/25/26, I invited Jill to accompany me to LuvWolf Films’ Weird Theater, an open showcase for independent film makers held every month in Lakewood, Colorado. I was under the impression it was located in downtown Denver and after stepping out into the recent heatwave plaguing the high desert, I immediately turned back toward the apartment and called Jill for a ride in place of taking a 35 minute ride on the #16 bus heading west.
We arrived later than anticipated, but the staff were more than accommodating and by the time we walked into a short in progress, the lights were dimmed and there were 2 open seats in what I consider a perfect position for viewing the array of films in store.
The Buck Moon was making me nervous as Jill sat down; I was worried about having a seizure, as this was the first time I’d been to a theater since my diagnosis. My initial point of interest came from the trophies being handed out for Most [Wholesum], Horny, and Weirdest films of the night: three glitterskulls which made me regret not pursuing a filmmaking career instead of painting dragons all these years. I immediately felt like the atmosphere was more aligned with my interpretation of a proper awards ceremony than anything the Oscars or Sundance could possibly offer.
The screening order was packed with a class act of auteurs whose contributions solidified the conceptualization of what I considered structured chaos:
Matt - Real Statue of Liberty
Andrew - Relaxing Morning
Jessie - Shoeshine
Alyssa - Ootz Goes to Work
John Williams - Mighty Steelhead
Maui & Mickey - Unzippin
Dan Hartman - Eucalyptus
Danielle Focazio - Furta Sacra
Nicholas Sugarman - Dragon Blue
Jeremy Anderson - Wasteland
Cindy - To the End of the Universe
John Williams’ submission was our introduction and captured my fascination without question: shot in 18mm polaroid, I was locked in for the rest of the night, making small talk in between films like Dan Hartman’s Eucalyptus (You clipped this?), as well as shorts from aspiring/established artists like Danielle Focazio, and Nicholas Sugarman with his 2021 homage to turn of the century classics like Super Sentai and Ultraman.
I am a huge fan of cinematography and silent film, so it was easy to overlook the derivative dialogue, 4th wall breaks, and stop motion/playback errors in light of the effort and enthusiasm displayed. The Wasteland (apparently shot in a proposed locale for Robocop 2 outside Sterling, CO) was a particular favorite with the absurdity of how something as simple as a kiss on the cheek can be conveyed as an unsuspecting lick of the face.
I enjoyed the open mic setup and the Halftime game played by audience members just before intermission. Truth be told, I wanted that mounted wall projector and had I not been filming myself, I would have raised my hand in hopes of participating and taking it home with me.
The show went past its scheduled ending, leaving some projects unscreened and in the queue for the next event set in August. Jill and I had been leaning against each other during the show and when the lights came on and she asked if I was hungry, even though I said no, I definitely had an appetite for something more than clapping hands and dim lighting.
She drove us back to E. Colfax around 1 am, which IYKYK, and snaking our way along the catastrophe that has become the Colfax remodeling project, we stopped at Chivas Tacos. I’d always wanted to go there, but had approximately $1.49 in my account and didn’t want to impose on a first date, so I feigned eating a pizza before the show.
When we stepped out in the parking lot, after hugging multiple times and sensing the chemistry was giving me green lights for more, I moved in for a kiss.
“I suppose we should get this out of the way.”
I hadn’t made out with anyone in over a year. We locked lips and swapped tongues (perhaps much to the dismay of people leaving,) on the sidewalk before walking inside to order.
“Will you at least eat some chips & guacamole if I order some?”
“Sure.”
But the wait staff must’ve misheard her addition to the 3am breakfast burrito. We sat at a corner table while she ate and talked about everything we saw and in retrospect, I like to think the people at Weird Theater were so warm and encouraging toward each other that they almost played as patron saints for horny Saturday nights, because the kissing didn’t cease in the parking lot.
When Jill dropped me off, we were at it again, paying more than distracted attention to the shirtless man with sandy blonde hair, sitting on a cardboard box and huffing an unknown substance from the sole of his weathered shoe. It was better than a candlelit dinner for 2 relative strangers, a chance encounter with mutual mindsets and the locked lips/pointed canines of LuvWolf Films.
Maybe it’s a story for someone’s grandchildren, but I don’t know who was more high that night, the man with a shoe, or the audience members, myself included, with the subsequent roast sessions that followed after our collective experiences:
Roasting Session excerpts: LuvWolf Films presents: Weird Theater: 7/25/26
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