Last night I went to see a screening of some short films in the back of a video store on Bedford Avenue. It was great. The piece’s were weird and earnest — one featured a man swallowed by a giant vagina in his couch, another a woman who gets drunk at her birthday and sleeps with a friend — but the best part was the effortless, suburban-feeling sincerity of it all. There were a dozen kids, as many beers, and some crap wooden tables in an otherwise unfurnished room. I kept expecting Dad to walk in and tell us to keep it down. Street noise drifted in.
It was so unfussy as to become, suddenly, purely functional. Which was fantastic and different. We were all there for a reason, and that was to watch some movies, made by some people that we probably liked. Nothing else — we just paid attention. Perhaps sincerity is the antidote to everything being A Thing. Or maybe: just being ugly and productive. Make stuff and ignore the rest.
Either way, the films wrapped, the nervous directors were queried by the crowd, everybody had another beer, and then we wandered off to get more drunk and get to know each other better. One beer was “Where are you from? What’s your name?” Two beers was “What’s your weird thing?” By the third beer I was taking an improv class to get over my stage fright and by four we were buddies, walking toward home with your slender bike frame cruising the sidewalk between us.
Four beers a buddy.
A few more days
A final Hi meeting
The local neighborhood bar has a quiet time between six and nine. It is a place that specializes in coffee, beer and seasonal menus. There is just enough of each for a satisfying snack and effective buzz. After the time when the laptop lids close and before the social gatherings start -- there is a sort of twilight*. Often this time is a fugitive ground rife with creative inspiration and meditative work -- of the kind that results in personal reward.*twilight may refer to civil, nautical or astronomical variety depending on your social or terrestrial condition
A man positions his mouse on the edge of his browser window. He clicks, holds and drags the viewport first left then right. The content of a video game promo micro site responds and adapts to the available space. To the man, this is more delightful than the game itself.
A man laboriously moves his piano down three levels onto the subway platform. Classic vocals and strided chords -- he played so well I swore he was blind. Oblivious to the heat on that August stage, he was most in touch with his audience -- whom he elevated with his music.
A woman should do exactly as she pleases no matter what a man may think.
As the Dalai Lama once said, "It is a time when there is much in the window, but nothing in the room."
"No one understands me," she said. Her grandmother was silent for a minute. It seemed she was searching for an answer in the star speckled sky. "But no one understands anyone in this world, darling. We are all unique. It is what gives us a sense of wonder."