All language subtitles for FİCTİ

It's.

It's.

Allow your breathing to become slow and even.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Slip your shoes off and loosen any tight clothing.

More.

More.

Be aware of your body.

Take it up gently in both hands.

Wherever it feels good.

First one way, then the other.

Gathering, lifting, squeezing and releasing.

Relax.

Just so it feels good.

Feel the lingering sensations.

Gently the other side.

Nod your head up and down as if to say yes.

From side to side.

To say no.

With a feather soft touch with delicate fingers.

Be aware of the feelings in the palms of your hands.

Let your mind come to rest.

Deep within you.

You may be there.

Enjoy the stillness.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

One search and follow the screen.

These tabernacles will have climate control.

It.

Sam.

Sa.

Sam.

Lord.

I went into the Pasadena museum one day, went into that big room way in the back, against one wall just as you walk in and opposite the big entrance is a.

I don't know what you would call it.

It's a railing or a banister and it's made of several metals like copper and brass and some that I, as I recall, have a silver rather than a gold color to them.

And it's something like.

It's hard to explain what it is.

It's very, very long.

And the middle of this long railing was curved, sometimes in long slow S shaped curves and then sometimes curves that turned round in on themselves several times and were very more tightly curved.

And it had an outward flow and a self contained circular flow to it.

And the colors were very rich, the metal colors were very rich and very warm.

I had a kind of a warm feeling come over me and I realized that I had this wave of desire going through my body to become this railing, to become this peace.

And I could just feel my.

My cells or my musculature or something give off a kind of a warmth in their desire to become that shape, to become that thing and to exist with those curves and that shape and that presence in the world and be that.

I could feel that desire move along my.

I don't know, in my.

Seemed like in my small parts of my cells or something like that.

And it was very diffused soft warmth that went out along me and it was like that warmth of that of desire, you know, that you can feel move out along your blood veins and it makes you have the feeling that almost your bones are getting soft inside.

Sam.

Haven't you ever thought about what it would be like to have say a black cat fur coat and to live inside a.

What it Would be like to move through the world in a furniture.

Sam.

It.

Sam.

Dear chick, I went to the rodeo to take pictures of the cowboys.

The first thing that struck me was how handsome and sexy they seemed.

It was probably the hats and boots and belts, especially the hats.

Some flirted, some were embarrassed.

Some just took it for granted.

It didn't seem to faze them.

Somehow.

I don't think I acted my age.

I felt kind of like a young girl who has just discovered the basic idea of sex and suddenly is in a barn full of animals and strange men.

Finally, I photographed this one guy who was very macho.

He had on a Mickey Mouse sweater.

He was tall, blonde, not as handsome as some, but more of a flirt.

He said, did I want to take a picture of him nude?

So I said, thinking there wouldn't be any way to do it there at the rodeo.

Sure.

This is really incredible.

Her writing has changed so much in this spot.

But it's really someone who's following the moment.

She's even made a mistake on her capital I.

So she says, sure.

And he immediately says, follow me.

Something held me back from seeing the obvious.

So me and him and about four other cowboys went up these stairs to a crummy dormitory room with no windows and iron bunk beds.

I was very nervous by this time.

I took a picture of him with only his boots and hat on, standing between two bunk beds.

I was so distracted.

The negatives are all out of focus as well as underexposed.

And then he jokingly said, what's your attitude on oral sex?

And I said, well.

And everyone laughed.

Then he said he wanted a picture of him and me together.

Well, how obvious can you get?

I couldn't control the inevitable.

And it had been inevitable for a lot longer than I admitted to myself.

There's another big mistake on the eye.

We made the picture, and he said, okay, Joe, turn out the lights now.

He wanted a blow job.

And at the moment, I was hoping that's all he wanted.

I was very nervous.

He was very fast and obviously pleased.

And at the very end, he let out this quiet, almost gentle cowboy yell.

The audience of four other cowboys was completely silent while the lights were out.

It seemed respectful of them.

And it was pitch black in there.

After the lights came on, he thanked me and asked my name.

A lot of exclamation marks here.

Well, I was pleased, but still nervous and scared.

And then he said, you have to do it for my best friend.

I went into action, collecting my camera to escape.

I never made it, but the friend did.

It was inevitable.

Once again, the entire ceremony was repeated, photography and all.

And somehow it happened yet once more.

The third cowboy was nicer than the others.

He offered to fuck me.

I think he thought I deserved it.

As a reward.

He's got a lot of words crossed out right here.

Interesting.

After that, I managed to escape, although some threats were made toward my camera if I didn't agree to do a group photo.

But the bull riding event was suddenly announced and they were gone.

I was elated because I had escaped both injury and scandal.

And as I walked down the steps, I spied the most handsome cowboy I'd seen all day.

Extraordinary.

And I felt ecstatically in control again, safe in a public place.

So I said, I have to take your picture.

And he grinned and said, what will you give me for it?

News travels fast, I thought.

So I took a picture and said, just a big smile and took another picture.

But before I had had a chance to take any more, he put his arm around me and whispered, ah, come on.

I haven't had any for a week.

Well, he was so handsome and more of a gentleman than the others.

And although I felt very weird by this time, I allowed him to take me over to his friend's horse stall.

I remember him saying there wasn't anything to worry about, that it didn't mean a thing, and his hat blew off.

Once he said we'd get away from all these cowboys.

I was nervous and could hardly believe I was putting one foot in front of the other.

He was pretty smooth.

He posed nicely, just the right amount of macho.

The horse barn was actually much nicer than the dormitory room.

When he came, it was just like the other three.

Silence, followed by this quiet cowboy yell.

Then he put his hands on my shoulders and said, that's the best thing that's happened to me all week.

As we walked back to the rodeo, I told him how unreal and kind of crazy I felt because I had never done anything like this before.

He said it didn't matter, didn't mean anything.

Could I think of anything better than an orgasm?

Well, I could only say, ah, no.

But it made me feel better to say it.

And the last thing he said about the day was, it would make a good spirit story to tell my grandchildren.

He didn't say it like it was a joke.

I consign the experience to memory, one half regretting, but one half relieved.

I didn't know his name or address, but photography is a power to be reckoned with.

I didn't notice it in the proof sheet.

But the enlargement plainly shows his name visible on his belt buckle.

I haven't experienced such an obsession since his adolescence.

I don't know where it will wind up.

I know where he lives now.

The following is a presentation of classic Radio.

Pillsbury snow sheen, cake flower brings you grand central.

As the bullet seeks target.

Shining rails in every part of our great country are aimed at Grand Central Station.

Part of the nation's greatest city.

Drawn by the magnetic force of the fantastic metropolis.

Day and night great trains rush toward the Hudson River.

Sweep down its eastern bank for 140 miles.

Flash briefly by the long red royal tenement houses south of 125th Street.

Dive with a roar into the soon wild half mile tunnel which burrows beneath the glittering swank of Park Avenue.

And then Grand Central Station.

Crossroads of a million 500 miles.

Gigantic stage on which I'll play the thousand Farmers daily.

This is a love story for stage struck souls who have at one time or another been intoxicated by the heady perfume of the theater.

But when you feel that deep within you there burns that divine but dizzy spark which will win you fame and fortune.

Back of the footlight Remember, the door to the stage is not on the Great White Way.

It usually opens off an alley.

We would go down to the river and I would take off my shirt and my pants and my shoes and stack them there between the rocks and dive into the water.

Could look up through it and it looked like seven up bubbles.

The water was so clear and looking down through it it was green.

The green would shimmer on the rocks and play and dance.

Make light images up in your eyes.

I would dive down, go into the green and come back up.

Looking at the silver shine of the surface of the water break through and feel the cold fish like feel as you come out into the cold air and diving in and up and down and in and up and down and back again.

I'd get tired, Go back to grandpa's open arms.

Waiting on the on the bank with a big towel and he'd throw it around me, wipe off the fish slime in the water.

And I would put.

Put at least my shoes on.

Slosh back to the cabin.

Craters of the moon made by my drips from my nose and my my mouth onto the D.

Man.

My tennis shoes flopping up dust.

Dust patches like smoke behind me.

Grandpa would lead the way with his cane.

I was young, only seven.

But yeah, because we would make love there on the couch.

On the red corduroy couch in the living Room.

We had a cat that would jump up on the.

On the couch too.

It was a black cat with green eyes.

And the light of the fire would dance off the cat's eyes.

And I trust in Grandpa.

He even fell into enjoying it sometimes at night.

Late at night with the fire crackling and just the light from the fire lighting up the living room.

We would lay.

And you'd kiss me a long, long time.

On my breasts that weren't even breasts yet that were just like a little boy's.

And on my mouth.

And he would use his tongue.

Sometimes he would take my shirt off or take my pants off or.

And just stroke my body.

I remember once I saw his penis, though, and it was so strange.

Like a snake.

The same kind of head.

Like a velvet snake.

A pink velvet snake, but it was a velvet snake.

And he used it a lot on.

I suppose my.

What I know now is Michael Torres.

I mean, he was an old man.

He certainly knew how to make love.

And he would.

He would make me feel good.

He wanted to teach me how to make love.

He said it would be what men would do later.

Or what I would do later as a man.

He taught me how to.

How to be sensual, I guess.

I suppose that's what he intended to do.

It almost felt like it wasn't really happening at night sometimes I didn't want to be feeling what was happening.

Whatever it was, it was too close and too strong and it scared me.

I just wouldn't allow myself to be alone with him after I realized what the.

What the f.

What we were doing.

Or I would jump out of bed before him in the morning or I would feign sleep at night.

All the typical female tactics of avoidance.

And I learned them young.

Now I'm a master at it.

Nobody should feel that way.

Pursued and then captured and really captured.

Because there's no way out.

There's real helplessness in that.

When I lived in Paris, I was very promiscuous.

Sex in the afternoon, 1am Rendezvous.

Driving home alone in the cab at 5am.

Reading Wittgenstein in the morning and painting and dancing to Count Basie.

When I moved to New York, I decided it was time to get really hooked.

To get hooked on a man.

So I moved to New York and I found myself a real killer.

This guy was a real killer.

And I was really hooked.

Pain is total environment.

And I was hooked on total environment.

And that was two and a half years of pain.

And I used to think every time he left that it would get easier.

But it didn't it got harder.

The last time he left.

It got so bad.

That I became completely agonized in my own pain.

I used up all my good friends.

They would give me television sets, anything to keep me from calling them up one more time to tell them about my pain.

I was hooked to my pain.

But actually, that was the one thing I must say.

I found that I was not masochistic, actually.

So I didn't like that particular hook pain.

Those were the days when we were all experimenting in drugs, taking dope.

Those are the big doper days.

And I was taking this and taking that.

And.

I decided to replace one total environment with another total environment.

In order to get rid of this pain.

I decided to get hooked to something that I could.

Touch and see and control.

Of course, when you really get hooked, you're not controlling it anymore, but that's part of the romance.

So I very carefully planned a program of getting hooked.

How I would do it and when I would do it and what I would do.

So every day I would go to work, make sure that I did not lose my job and come home and score, and very carefully do a little ritual of shooting up smack, heroin, and then go to.

And then paint and then go to work the next day until finally it worked.

I was hooked.

We used to go to Brooklyn to score every other day.

Standing in hallways, waiting in cars.

It was very good.

The interesting thing about the phenomena of being hooked is that there's always something good.

Otherwise, there's nothing to get hooked to.

There's always something, and smack had something good.

It took away the pain so that you saw everything and felt everything, but it didn't hurt.

Actually, it was great fun too.

Meet a lot of interesting people on the street.

Finally, I was going to work and nodding out at my desk or snorting up a little bit in the bathroom during work time or not going to work at all.

And I knew that the time had come to quite.

That was the plan.

Turn on until you get hooked.

And when you get really hooked, quit.

What was really rough was that I didn't want to quit after all.

It was good.

It was sensuous and it was precise.

It had its own state of mind, its own ambiance, its own.

Its own world.

And as you get better, you ask yourself, why am I kicking?

It's so good.

It's so clear and so real and so spacious.

But I did it.

That was the plan.

And I did it.

I kicked and I never turned on again.

And I exorcised him.

Sa.

Nam.

Sa.

It's.

Okay.

This is, this is going to be a little bit, a little bit difficult.

I guess I'm supposed to start talking about certain experiences that I've had.

And right now I feel kind of shaky and frightened.

All right.

I was born in Poland in 1941, which was right in the.

Approximately in the middle of the war.

And I came to the United States in 1949.

And.

It's hard.

It's hard to talk about things like this, But I'm embarrassed.

Embarrassed?

No, I'm not embarrassed.

Yes, I'm embarrassed.

I've had experiences that I keep struggling with to this day.

One of them is of opening myself up and being vulnerable and letting you know how I really feel.

Mainly because as a child it was demanded almost that you didn't make a sound during a specific time because people were after you, the people being Nazis.

And we were always hiding.

And if we were to make any kind of a sound, then they would find us.

And our next door neighbor, who was a 16 year old boy, had told on us that that house next door, they're hiding Jews.

So consequently we had Gestapo coming in and visiting us.

And I remember being put on a Gestapo officer's lap to divert his attention from any noises or anything and sitting on his lap and playing cute and being charming, you know.

And I remember I understood that why I was being placed in that situation and what my job was.

It felt like a job.

It felt like I had to do something.

And I remember flirting with him.

I remember that that's what I was doing.

I was woken up in the middle of the night and I think I was around 3 1/2 years old by my mother.

And she sat me on a table and was putting my shoes on and I heard noises all over the place and there was all kinds of rushing and yelling and screaming.

And the next thing I know we were being rushed out of the house and taken for a very long walk.

But.

I insisted that we take my kittens with us.

Oh, yes, I had.

I had little kittens and they were born in my crib and they were very dear to me.

And my father put the kittens in the birdcage and we walked and there were a whole bunch of us and we walked and kept walking and walking and there was a whole lot of people with us and we walked for miles.

And I remember that it was very necessary for me to be very brave.

I didn't quite know what was going on, but I like that feeling.

I remember.

And I remember that I liked now being brave then, because I knew then that there was some kind of trouble.

And I remember.

A hill, a huge hill with a lot of fire just a little bit above the hill and explosions of all sorts.

I remember how frightened everybody was.

And we had some kind of a guide with us.

And I remember my father carrying the birdcage with the kittens in it.

And I remember I felt proud of myself because I didn't want to be carried.

And I remember that hill, you know.

And I remember that over that hill, there was something very bad going on there.

And then there's a black.

Sa.

It.

It.