far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Monday, February 18, 2008

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.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Good, clean fun: stopping time at Grand Central Station.


-- runswithscissors: to let at excessively reasonable rates

España, te quiero

rws 8:13 AM [+]
Comments: Post a Comment

Links to this post:

<\$BlogItemBacklinkCreate\$>
BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted.


runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



Syndicate This Site

Blogarama

BlogCatalog

Bloggapedia, Blog Directory - Find It!



technorati profile

Subscribe with Bloglines

www.flickr.com
runswithscissors' photos More of runswithscissors' photos