In which I see a movie

Posted: 03/27/2011 in Uncategorized

I haven’t been eating enough food or drinking enough water. I got as far as cramming food in my face, but water is still a problem. I should get a drink of water right now.

I didn’t get a drink of water.

Earlier today I finished reading a sci-fi mystery where the detective gets frozen near the end. The last few chapters take place 6 years later when he wakes up and everything is ten times more fucked up than it was before–but it makes sense that it got that way.

Last movie I saw in a theater was Where the Wild Things Are because it was based on a book I supposedly read as a kid (though I don’t think I ever was a kid). The last one that wasn’t based on a kid’s book was The Duchess because it was about a historical personage I had read about. The last movie I saw in a theater that didn’t have something to do with a body of work that already meant something to me, that I didn’t enter because on some level its value would be at least minimally predetermined by association? Shit. Theaters ain’t for that anymore, if they ever were. For that I’ve got a membership at North Campus Video, with their impressive shelves of foreign films, Criterion Collection, martial arts, Mystery Science Theater 3000, and porn.

I meant to see the Secret Cinema at the Wex–pay $3 to see a movie that you don’t know what it is until it rolls–but I ate dinner for too long. So I started a new mystery novel, did naughty things on my webcam, and went to see Cold Weather, an indie mystery about losery white people in Portland (they didn’t say Maine or Oregon but I think it was Oregon).

I’m not normally obsessed with mysteries. I’m trying to write a story called “Magic Pony and the Night The Bitch Went Crazy.” It has to do with that.

The theater has Sapporo at the concession stand. Toshiro Mifune’s birthday is in a week. “Real men just drink without saying a word.”

Before the feature: a music video of dancing CG gnomes. Apparently this has to do with something, I can’t figure out what. A reminder to throw away my trash. A teaser for a best/worst dressed show where a grinning orange-tan host who looks suspiciously like a guy in a porno I saw gets a homosexual jeweler and a heterosexual fashion designer to pass judgment on overprivileged capitalist tools’ handlers’ style choices. The name of the program is Reelz. An ad for a jewelry store. Even though I don’t often watch TV or listen to the radio I still know to ignore ads for jewelry stores. An ad for Wright State University.

Come to think of it, I think the last time I saw a movie there was ad for a car with a bunch of racist caricatures of CG hamsters rapping about how I could go with “this” or I could go with “that.” “This” was the car. “That” was whatever the other hamsters were driving, usually something like a washing machine or a giant toaster rolling down the street. I screamed “I’ll take that!”

The movie wasn’t really anything. There’s this thing filmmakers do when they want their dialog to be gritty and organic but unfortunately the actors are white, where they have the actors always talk in this kind of hoarse stage whisper. It’s so goddamn realistic. It’s even more realistic than the dialog I have with people in real life. In the end they listened to a real old mix tape that sounded like a death metal band trapped inside a washing machine.

You and I once talked about making a movie where two people have sex inside a washing machine. The movie was in Japanese with Engrish subtitles. In the washing machine sex scene the subtitle was going to say “This are feel good.”

Wouldn’t you like a drink of water, M. Shaw?

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