One for Midnight and Morning |
I am back from seeing the film Elizabethtown. It is a montage. A long montage, which is bad. Itís a bad, bad film that I tried to have some moments with, but it didnít work out between us.
And I didnít get much for my eleven dollars.
Well, I got to sit in the dark by myself in my favorite theater so I could curl up in the seats and lounge and do whatever just like I like to do without anyone fussing or looking or wondering. Not that I mind when they do, but still.
I was trying to celebrate, really. The book writing is all tied up and itís at the printers. This weekend was brutal. M.Sto and I were working 16-hour days punting work back and forth from coast to coast. I think sheís coming down with something.
So I went to a movie at 11:00 PM. Hadnít been in a while.
Got more out of the five-minute drive home in the car with the radio on. Then I came up the elevator from the garage to drop my rent check off in the rent check drop slot at the managerís office, which happens to be right between the elevator and stairs.
I live on the top floor.
I usually take the stairs.
But theyíre dark, so maybe not at night, even though the building is secure.
Elevator or stairs?
Stopped at the courtyard level on the way up. One of the fountains was still on, the other turns off at 12:00 AM exactly, then comes back on at 4:45 AM exactly, then turns off again at 5:00 AM exactly, then comes back on shortly after 8:00 AM, but usually Iím asleep then, so I never have marked the time exactly.
Of course this week Iíve been up at 4:00 AM PT to work on stuff with M.Sto. Then she takes my notes, does her bit and I sleep for a while until sheís done.
I donít mind though. When you love something, getting up isn't hard.
Like a book.
Like a dream.
So I stopped at the courtyard level where the fountain by the balcony that overlooks the city under the palm trees was still on and, hey, LA has some stars.
Although, itís not like Virginia.
Or Death Valley.
Or Cape Hatteras, which was the first place I saw purple in the night sky.
But there were some stars. Hadnít seen those in a while.
Hadnít left my flat in three days.
And I donít miss those places anyway.
Mostly because I donít think I belong anywhere, really. That doesnít bother me.
So I stopped at the fountain and wondered about bad movies.
I canít remember what makes things good anymore.
I asked if itís possible to forget.
Or to never know in the first place.
And to just get lucky with good.
Of course, I donít abide in luck.
And fountains don't talk.
So I took the stairs some more.
Even though they were dark.
Especially, because they were dark.
It wasn't that long of a climb.
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