304. After almost two days of not seeing each other.
Mario: Hey.
Me: Hey.
Mario: Is your brain turned on today?
Mario: Hey.
Me: Hey.
Mario: Is your brain turned on today?
305. Keeping up with the annual tradition, I'm bringing a friend to Zoe's birthday party.
Me: Yay G. is coming to your birthday party. I have a plus one.
Zoe: *party*
Me: *party*
A pause.
Me: I like my plus one.
Zoe: Why wouldn't you? Imagine: "I'll bring somebody I don't like as my plus one." That'd be weird.
306. In a dark, crowded cinema. "Do you want to know what it is about?" asks Zoe. "No," I tell her. Tickets have been paid, we are seated, the movie is about to start, there is no way of backing out. Moreover, I unexpectedly find myself rather enjoying the experience of being spontaneous. Carpe per diem. For the first time -- as far back as I can remember -- I am about to see a movie with almost no information. Usually, I at least watch the theatre trailer, read the reviews, weigh up the pros and cons of watching such a movie, read the reviews again, watch a second theatre trailer, then maybe see the movie. Tonight, when Zoe texted to ask if I wanted to go to the cinema, Hanna, thriller, and Cate Blanchett were all I've got, but for once I am eager to dive into the unknown.
The first scene: the magnificent landscape of a completely snow-covered Finnish forest. Near a small lake on which large pieces of ice float peacefully, a moose is strolling, quiet and serene. So far so good, I think to myself. It's beautiful... I did not know this movie was about nature. So nice to be completely surprised.
The second scene: the close-up of a little girl's face, covered up almost completely except for her piercing blue eyes. As the camera pans out, we see that the girl is aiming an arrow from behind a tree. Uh oh. This is not g-, and before I complete my thought, the arrow hits the clueless moose. Well, I guess she is a hunter. I eat chicken. She eats moose. These are the normal, natural facts of life.
The third scene: the moose starts running, at a quickly decreasing pace; the girl chases after the injured animal, catching up just as the moose finally collapses, lying sideways on the white snow with the arrow pointing upwards, its sad eye wide open. The girl bends down, rubs the bleeding area, and pulls out the arrow. "I just missed your heart," she comments airily, not unlike the way Luna Lovegood would dreamily talk to a passing butterfly. See, she hunts as part of survival, but she has a compassionate soul. She has missed the heart purposely, and because we moviegoers are ignorant about moose biology, the script had her tell it to the moose, so that we kn-
*bang*
Standing next to the now-dead moose, my compassionate hunter lowers her gun.
So much for carpe per diem. Next time I am reading the whole movie script before going to the cinema.
306. In a dark, crowded cinema. "Do you want to know what it is about?" asks Zoe. "No," I tell her. Tickets have been paid, we are seated, the movie is about to start, there is no way of backing out. Moreover, I unexpectedly find myself rather enjoying the experience of being spontaneous. Carpe per diem. For the first time -- as far back as I can remember -- I am about to see a movie with almost no information. Usually, I at least watch the theatre trailer, read the reviews, weigh up the pros and cons of watching such a movie, read the reviews again, watch a second theatre trailer, then maybe see the movie. Tonight, when Zoe texted to ask if I wanted to go to the cinema, Hanna, thriller, and Cate Blanchett were all I've got, but for once I am eager to dive into the unknown.
The first scene: the magnificent landscape of a completely snow-covered Finnish forest. Near a small lake on which large pieces of ice float peacefully, a moose is strolling, quiet and serene. So far so good, I think to myself. It's beautiful... I did not know this movie was about nature. So nice to be completely surprised.
The second scene: the close-up of a little girl's face, covered up almost completely except for her piercing blue eyes. As the camera pans out, we see that the girl is aiming an arrow from behind a tree. Uh oh. This is not g-, and before I complete my thought, the arrow hits the clueless moose. Well, I guess she is a hunter. I eat chicken. She eats moose. These are the normal, natural facts of life.
The third scene: the moose starts running, at a quickly decreasing pace; the girl chases after the injured animal, catching up just as the moose finally collapses, lying sideways on the white snow with the arrow pointing upwards, its sad eye wide open. The girl bends down, rubs the bleeding area, and pulls out the arrow. "I just missed your heart," she comments airily, not unlike the way Luna Lovegood would dreamily talk to a passing butterfly. See, she hunts as part of survival, but she has a compassionate soul. She has missed the heart purposely, and because we moviegoers are ignorant about moose biology, the script had her tell it to the moose, so that we kn-
*bang*
Standing next to the now-dead moose, my compassionate hunter lowers her gun.
So much for carpe per diem. Next time I am reading the whole movie script before going to the cinema.
No comments:
Post a Comment