I don't plan on going seven, eight, nine days between entries. Time just gets going, before I know it I'm seriously in the hole.
The days have been slipping past in alternating streaks of winter weather and conditions feeling like early spring. One thread running through it all is the gradual increase in daylight, a slow shift apparent more in the evening. Daylight still doesn't really get going until near 8 a.m., but the sky now remains light until close to 7:30 p.m. Lovely.
I've been hard at work lately and fairly productive (though you wouldn't know it by this webpage). As a reward, I took myself to an afternoon matinée last Tuesday. Beginning of the week, the local world embroiled in daily work hooha, a good time to sneak away to a movie. You would think.
Grabbed a bus, made the trip through the city center to the zone near la Plaza de los Cubos, home to four different multi-screen theaters that show films in original language with subtitles. Me figuring to check out The Oxford Murders, expecting to breeze into the cinema, toss them money, settle into a comfortable seat in a nearly-empty theater.
Made the hike from the bus stop beneath gray skies (excellent conditions for movie-going), city life going on all around. And as I approached the plaza, I noticed something I'd never seen before -- never ever, not even on the busiest holiday weekends, when half the local world crams into the city's cinemas: a line of people extending out from the plaza to the sidewalk and partway down the block. All, it turned out, waiting to get into the cinema I'd been heading to -- a line that stretched out the door, snaked around the plaza, around the corner, etc. Ugly.
Gave up on that cinema, continued along, figuring there's be something worth seeing at one of the others. Next theater: big line. The theater after that: another line, not quite as big. The fourth and final theater: the shortest line of all, and I noticed a poster advertising Juno, a film about which I'd heard great word of mouth. Got in line, bought a ticket, found myself in a comfy seat in a mostly empty sala. And loved the movie (sharp, super-ironic dialogue; great, for the most part, cast; good quirky storytelling). Skipped joyfully out the door afterward. Happy ending.
(Saw 'The Oxford Murders' this last weekend. This writer's verdict: good cast -- especially John Hurt -- wasted on a godawful clumsy screenplay. Ah, well.)
Afterward, waiting at a bus stop along the main drag. A 30ish mother arrived holding an infant wrapped up for the chilly weather. A recently-arrived infant, staring at everything, expression amazed. I watched, smiling, it saw me, smiled in response. Looked around, expression turning to amazement again, the tip of a pink, fat tongue sticking out between fat, pink lips. Its eyes shifted back to me, taking in my smile, its lips formed a smile in response. The mother noticed it smiling at me, began smiling as well. The three of us stood together exchanging smiles, rush hour traffic passing.
Time slipped by, no bus arrived. More time, still no bus. On impulse, I headed off to a nearby Metro stop, hopped a train. Changed trains two stops along, emerged in the plaza down the street from here as the daylight began fading. Stopped near the newspaper kiosk to watch all the life happening in that large open space -- people passing through in all directions, others standing in small groups talking, children running through it all. And noticed for the time ever -- after passing through that plaza who knows how many thousands of times -- barbed wire strung discretely along the roof of the kiosk. Logical, I suppose, given the kind of public inebriation that goes on there most nights of the week, all night long in some cases -- a basic measure to prevent shitfaced partiers from climbing up, falling off, breaking bones (theirs or someone else's). But still. A strong image, feeling strange that I'd never noticed it till then.
Which somehow sums up part of life for me. The picture is never complete, open eyes bring all kinds of surprises.
Anyway. Later.
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Good, clean fun: stopping time at Grand Central Station.
-- runswithscissors: to let at excessively reasonable rates
España, te quiero
rws 8:13 AM [+]
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