I had three phone interviews to do at the end of the day today, which made it hard to get out of the office in time for the Trocodero’s movie Monday (featuring The Goonies). Which is kind of a funny phenomenon—a roomful of adults with buckets of beer watching movies that they, for the most part, already love and have seen many times. Having that living room with your buddies experience, but in a theatre, where it’s ok to quote the movie and give Chunk a round of applause.
And that last interviewee, when I asked what book he recommended that I read, recommended what is probably my least favorite book in the English language. Oh, man. Intruder in the Dust by William Faulkner. I was in the tenth grade when I read it and I just remember that the six page long sentence struck me as an criminal abuse of language. Grammar is a gift, goddammit, I don’t care who you are.
After watching it again in adulthood, I have a newfound appreciation for The Goonies. And the fact that much smarter movies were once made and marketed to children. What happened?
I left with the urge to listen to that Sarah Mclachlan song—”Your Love is Better than Ice Cream.” Probably because it is so hot.
As I walked to the subway, paramedics were pulling a prone human form off of the platform of a statue of Ben Franklin, and wrapping it in a white sheet. City Hall after dark is strange kind of place. Still and dotted with the quiet human shadows of homeless people.
On the steps leading out of my subway stop, it looked like someone had broken an entire box of soft white light bulbs.
I started pulling clothes off as soon as I got to the top of my stairs and jumped in the shower with only the cold nozzle on, which has made the remainder of the night…only barely tolerable. I am not ready for summer.