When Jodorowsky Met Kanye: A FanFic Saga
LatestChilean director Alejandro Jodorowsky and American rapper Kanye West posed together for a photo. This is not the story of how that happened.
Nice was a beautiful city. A woman with head bowed, crying into the sea, her lips a gun.
The director and spiritual guru sat in the hotel lobby, reading his own fate in coffee grounds. He spied a dwarf, misshapen and sobbing, throwing a tantrum on the rug. But, ah. It was not. It was a child actor, laboring under the weight of a massive viola.
He looked at his watch and wondered where Kanye could be. It was then that Jodorowsky heard the steps. Like a cowboy through a saloon, hand at his hip, poised. Those measured, deliberate steps. Like a priest in a cathedral, steps echoing with the song no voice could sing, for the language was known only to shoes and floors.
“I WAS TRYING TO GET THE KITCHEN TO RENAME THEIR KOBE BEEF SLIDERS KANYE BEEF SLIDERS,” said Kanye. “HOW ARE YOU MAN.”
THIS IS IT, thought Kanye. This was the man, the innovator he’d long admired. The man who built mountains.
“My friend,” said Jodorowsky, clasping Kanye’s hands in his. It was their first time meeting, but it felt like a lifetime of lifetimes connected the two, and the director found himself in awe of the musician/designer. “Allow me the privilege of reading what the Tarot cards have in store for you.”
“LET’S DO IT,” said Kanye.
Seated together, the older man pulled the cards from his coat pocket, stroking each with a mixture of love and fear. “You are the world,” he said. “And the world is you. You are the child screaming on a hotel floor. You are a leaf falling to the sand. You are a woman’s tears. You are the mountain. You are the One. You are nothing. And you are all. And all is you.”
“THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT,” said Kanye.
“Let us now paint our image onto the pixels of eternity.”
“WHO HERE CAN CURATE A NON-SELFIE OF ME AND ALE?” asked Kanye. Out of the shadows, the ether, the very fabric from which dreams are woven, stepped a nameless assistant. “I will,” he said, but the words were swallowed by the witch who guards the bridge of fame. Her face a beehive, her horse a clock.
“THIS IS MEANINGFUL,” said Kanye, as he and the director posed side by side, two monks who wrestle with angels and devils alike.
“Is it?” said Jodorowsky. For who could ever be sure.