It's actually two different stories, but they're connected so I posted them as one. Although it's fiction 90% is sort of biographical... the philosophy and ideas at least.... almost every idea from the first story comes back in the second one... so it requires attention...

I've been staring at this glass for the past thirty eight seconds. I lied. How would I know how many seconds or minutes have passed. I never liked champagne, but she said it's her favorite drink, so I bought a bottle. I normally drink a lot. I'm that guy who keeps drinking until two in the morning and then passes out outside of the bar after he gets kicked out. So I don't know why this glass is still half full. Or half empty. If you ask me the whole perspective on whether the glass is half full or half empty is a bit overrated. She says she likes the smell of champagne. The taste. The sound. She speaks French. Sometimes I don't understand what she says, but it doesn't matter; it's not like I care anyway. I like her accent. She's lying on my bed and she's wearing my clothes. Her's are still wet from the rain. I lied. It hasn't rained in weeks. Her clothes are wet though. Her eyes are closed. I miss them. She has the most expressive, dark eyes I've ever indulged in. I wish she woke up. I desire her. No, desire is the wrong word. It implies wanting. It also evokes a positive feeling. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because it resembles the word rise. Crave screams with negativity and it also implies need. I crave her. Men's worst fear is women finding out how much we truly crave them. I love her. No, I lied. Of course I don't love her. I don't even know her name. She doesn't love me either. She's incapable of love. She also lacks empathy. I bet if she woke up and I was dead, she'd laugh. She's always laughing. Even now. Although she's asleep, she's still laughing at me. She forgot to put the cigarette out, leaving the smoke circulating around my studio. I don't understand her. I don't understand her theories on passion and love. I don't understand her obsession with shoelaces. And that ugly tie she had around her wrist. She said she found it in an insane asylum. I don't believe her. I'm keeping the tie though. I really don't think she'll notice that I took it. I forgot where I met her. It's been five hours and I already forgot where I met her. I met her in a used book store. I lied. I've never been in a used book store. I blame drugs. The consumption of aka Ecstasy, aka X, MDMA, and White Angels will eventually kill me. Or women like her will. Or maybe it's the lack of her. I lied. I've never done drugs. Her body reminds me of a 1979 Trans Am - worn out, and yet full of energy and speed. Full of flaws. Daring me to take control. Slam my foot on the pedal. Shift the gears - the mechanisms within her brain that stimulate the rest of her body. Who carries a camera with them anyway? See that was a question. You said I never ask questions. That's why you chose me. Someone who doesn't ask questions. Well, here's a question. Am I just an experiment to you? Who's next? A guy who only asks questions? I don't even care. I'm tired. I've been sitting on the floor of my own apartment, talking into a stupid camera for the past four hours. I lied. Two. It's been two hours. A camera that belongs to a girl who has managed to mess up my brain, get me to drink champagne when I hate champagne, and take my bed - all in one night. A girl I didn't even have sex with. The glass is still half full. I lied. It's empty. I don't know why I lied. You can clearly see that it's empty yourself. I look like crap on this camera. The battery is dying. This is a really ugly tie. It matches my ulgy face. It matches your ugly personality. I hope you're here when I wake up. I want you to be here. I want to familiarize myself with the taste of your tears mixed with mascara. I think the battery is going to die any second now. I lied. The battery is still three-fourths full. My name is Anton Deus Pagne and I'm a compulsive liar.

 

Two individuals are sitting in a an empty theater.

-- It's a short film. Rumination I wish to divulge. C'est tout. (that's all)
-- What sort of film?
-- 97 hours, 5 minutes, and 45 seconds of footage edited into a 4 minute and 38 second movie. It's a project.
-- A project on what?
-- On passion. I carried the camera with me for a few weeks filming random conversations, people, fragments of movies, commercials, music clips and then cut all that completely unrelated footage into a short film.

The projector starts playing the movie.

A girl appears on the screen. She's laughing. It's not clear where she is. The camera zooms out and shows her sitting in a broken rusty wheelchair. She gets up and takes the camera. After a few seconds of complete chaos, the camera is in focus again and it shows the audience that the scene takes place in an abandoned building - perhaps a hospital screaming of nothing but consternation. It zooms in on a table as a male voice in the background says:
"Now let's play a game!"
It's a desk now. A classroom. A tall, erudite, obstinate looking man with glasses and no hair, presumably the teacher, is standing in front of the blackboard.
"Each of you will have to somehow act out the symptoms of the mental illness that was assigned to you and the rest of the class will have to figure out what you suffer from."
The scene changes again. The Goose attacks out of nowhere. A girl wearing red jumps.
"Stop it Goose! What is wrong with you! You scared the hell out of me. This place is freaky enough. I think I'm getting sick. I'm going to faint. God, my stomach hurts."
The camera focuses on a lap top. Google search:
"Munchausen’s syndrome."
The camera appears to be filming a wall. It's difficult to tell though. It's blurry, but one can still hear a game show on TV which is assumingly in the same room:
"You are correct! And you've earned another 200 points."
The camera zooms in on the girl in red.
"Why is your nickname 'The Goose' anyway?"
The girl who is holding the camera answers that question:
"He is just as sagacious and pertinent as the guy from that commercial."
"What commercial?"
A goose appears on the screen
"AFLAC!!!"
After showing the glimpse from the commercial, the previous scene comes back. For a few seconds the camera pauses on a tie.
"Do you think it belonged to one of the patients?" says Goose who found the item.
The girl with the accent is still holding the camera:
"I doubt it. This section of the asylum was occupied by those who were suicidal or homicidal. They wouldn't allow them to have ties."
Meanwhile the camera is focused on the floor as it exchanges hands. It is clear that The Goose is holding the camera now. The girl is holding the tie. The tie no longer appears on the screen, which is solely taken up by half of the girl's face. Presumably she wraps the tie around his neck.
"You're strangling me!"
"Je suis." (I know)
She's laughing. The scene changes to a TV screen, which shows a black and white documentary. A young man wearing a suit who used to be a soldier in the Vietnam War reads a poem from his journal:
"You're the one who
Must decide who's
To live and who's to die

You're the one who gives his
Body as a weapon of the
War - and without you all
This killing can't go on"
As the poem is read, the camera zooms in on his tie. It's abruptly cut off, returning the audience to the asylum where the camera is suddenly turned on the girl in red.
"You two are sick!"
"Peut-etre..." (Perhaps)
In the next scene, the girl is sitting in a bathtub. She continues to laugh. She's holding a champagne glass. There is a man across from her, but he's holding the camera and therefore is not in the scene. He's the first one to speak.
"Why are we sitting in a bathtub fully clothed?"
The scene ends there and takes us to a magazine stand. A hand opens one of the magazines and after flipping through several pages, zooms in on the following:
"With age, the body will be covered completely. If the body can no longer be accentuated it should be abstracted. For youth, a time for physical display."
The scene once again changes and is occupied by the champagne glass.
"Fermes tes yeux." (Close your eyes)
"Ok. Go ahead, make my day!"
The camera then shows her turn the knob to start the shower.
"Du hast recht. It does feel like rain." (german: You're right)
"You speak German?"
"Yeah… actually I was named after my German grandfather, Anton."
He zooms in on her face. Something a little strange, that's why you notice, that she's not a woman like all the others. And she's no longer laughing. Her face almost expresses bereavement. But then she smiles again and grabs the camera. She turns it on the man, but all the water droplets on the lens prevent the audience from seeing him clearly. One can only make out his bright blue eyes and a scar above the left eyebrow.
"You're zooming in on my obtrusive scar, aren't you? Don't. I'm ugly."
"It's the flaws that make people unique. It's the flaws that I love, whether they're physical or emotional. It's easy to love the good. But it takes more than love to embrace the flaws. It takes passion."
"Passion and love are ultimately the same thing."
"Non, non, et non! Ce n'est pas la meme chose." (no, no, and no, its not the same thing)
A Pause
"It's more powerful than love. The full extent of the word. You suffer, but still won't change any of the flaws. Passion is to Love like Craving is to Desire."
She places the camera on the sink next to the bathtub. The camera now faces her profile. For a second it seems like she's crying and yet she continues to laugh. It could be just water droplets. The camera is still facing the girl's profile and she is still laughing. But she's no longer wet or wearing the same clothes. This time she is crying. Goose penitently leans forward, but his back is facing the camera.
"Each time your tears taste differently."
"It's probably the mascara."
She jumps on the roof of the Trans Am and lies down evoking a thousand of possible aspirations. The scene changes once again. Only nothing can be seen. After a few seconds of what at first appears to be fog, it becomes obvious that the film returns to the bathroom when the girl says,
"Can I borrow some of your clothes, now that mine are wet."

The film ends with a black screen. No credits. No music. Nothing. Not even a plain background with "La fin" centered. (The end)

-- Why are most of these scenes so blurry or dark?
-- When scenes are out of focus or completely dark, they draw more attention to the individuals. The audience sees more. It understands more. I'm going to take a photograph of you.
-- If your video camera is recording now, what is the point of taking a photograph?
-- Because photographs are the only way to capture a moment. Even if you keep replaying a certain scene, it still won't capture that one semi second moment. A photograph is omnipotent.
-- But if it can't capture sound how can it reflect a moment such as this better than a video camera?
-- Sometimes moments scream louder when they are silenced.

Pause

-- Have you been sexual with Goose?
-- Yes.
-- And with Anton?

Laughs

-- Why are you always laughing even when there's a definite lack of humor?
-- Do you always ask questions so ravenously? So inveterately?
-- Why is your movie only four minutes and twelve seconds long oppose to four minutes and thirty eight seconds?
-- Because the ending hasn't been edited yet.
-- What's the ending?
-- Tu es la fin. (you are the ending)

The button on the camera is pressed. The flash, although illuminating the dark theater, blinds the footage on the video camera, preventing us from seeing the audience. And the negative, which later will become a photograph, captures the same blue eyes and the scar that the Stranger, Anton Deus Pagne and The Goose share.