#now ft transcripts!! live from artblock hell. hhhh

[erotetica]

Orange U Glad I Don’t Even Have Any Art To Dull This Blow

-SCREENFUL OF (V SHAKY FOOTAGE) ARMAND, PREEMPTING PRIDE WITH ANOTHER MASC-COAT/FEM-GLASSES COMBO-

Off-camera voice (mid-sentence): —did you say?

Armand: I said, yes; I have indeed collaborated with The Vampire Lestat. Across multiple mediums.

(Armand makes a microexpression & the camerawork is abruptly steadier—this belies intention.)

Armand, cont: on occasion, you might go so far as to say I’ve been his right hand arm. Man—his silly rabbit.

Off-camera voice: Does—is that what he calls you??

Armand: No.

-4TH WALL HAS BEEN AN ILLUSION; THE ‘SCREEN’ IS A DIEGETIC PHONE IN LOUIS’ HAND, PLAYING A STAN TIK-TOK HE THUMBS CLOSED ON THE OUTRO, ANTICIPATING OTHER NOISES-

Lestat (the noise, which looks over Louis’ shoulder, & squints muchly): But I HAVE called him that. Why would he say that? I DO call him that—I have foR THREE-QUARTERS OF A CENTURY BEEN CALLING HIM MY SIL—actually. Actually? To fuck with it—

(Lestat zoomed out, revealing he @ some point piaffed into a couch—the end-cushion of which Louis is already e-reading Forbes in—for the soliloquy’s back half)

Lestat, cont: —ecause I don’t care why Armand says things! As usual, may his enigma elude me, forever, amen—also he ISN’T an enigma! He’s on purpose—not even funny. I don’t—I’m not—COMMENT DIRE ‘PAS UNE COQUETTE???’

Louis: ‘Coquette’s a loanword, you’re good.

Lestat: C’EST ÇA! YES. EXACTLY. YES. I’M N O T THAT EASY. I’M RESPONSE-LESS.

-SILENT, SUEDE SECTIONAL WIDE SHOT, A LA JAWS’ STILL WATERS-

Suspiciously Armandish voice over phone (off-screen of a choker-shot of unsuspicious Louis, mid-hyperlink to The New Yorker): Allô—

Lestat (also off-screen, ft. forcefully anglophone ‘T’s, which aren’t enough to land the Vince McMahon impression): YEA WHAT’S SHITTING WITH YOU, YOU SPAGHETTISQUASH F U C K FACE??/??