Eric Cloutier Movies

It's time the times met each other over & over.

Hiding inside&out, writhing about, taken out&in.

There is nothing left to do but complain.

Something I know or something I was told? When something scalding translates something to behold.

Steadily reading while/becomes treading into murky waters.

Shadows frighten what one oughtn't be gripping (that thing before/hind you).

I really hope this is well-received. I really hope there's some sort of reprieve.

Setting, settling; still seething as I barely breathe.

Tales of old springing forth underlying dissatisfaction with current states of being.

Trite, closed memories flagrantly bleed into profuse openings mixed & held together by retaliatory colorations & obfuscations.

On the Clickity-clack Express it's clear I'm always under duress, unless I forget.

3 minute experimental film.

This cacophony runs over me, over everything I see, everything I want to see: it's me.

Say Om as you reach home only to realize you never really left/stopped saying Om.

5 minute experimental film.

Tones rise and fall as images replicate and reorder, dizzying, nauseating -- vexing.

Lights flicker & fade as focus shifts from artificial to natural light, ending on a second artificial light speeding through the blackened miasma...

Onward, upward, greener [redder] grasstures.

Abandoning the Abaddon-loathed abandoner opens plenty of reclaimed... everything(s).

Beyond all human restraint lies one's lugubrious layers of paint.