Saturday, March 29, 2008

The Secret Movie Club



Remember the Babysitter's Club? Well now I'm part of a club that is nothing like it. I'm part of the Secret Movie Club.

For the past two nights, I have spent late hours in the theater watching good movies ("Metropolitan" and "Barcelona") with Jeremy and Nick Wilson. It sort of happened by accident, on my part. Thursday night I spent a long time talking to Kelly and Trevor, and then Jeremy and Nick came down to watch the movie, and well, I stayed. I was reluctant to watch because I'm a bad movie watcher. I really can't watch them, they don't hold my attention for long enough time. But I guess I don't give them a chance enough, because I really enjoyed them both. Particularly "Metropolitan".

It's been weird though, because Thursday and Friday seemed like one entirely too long day. Thursday I worked, then I hung out with Trevor and Kelly, and then I got angry and drank, and then I watched "Metropolitan", and then I decided to wake Nick Mandella up and sleep at his place. Since Nick Wilson pays money to live in that apartment, but doesn't live there, he walked me there to help me wake Nick up. We ended up standing in front of a Sicilian barber shop door, watching the rain, smoking cigarettes, and talking about Seriously Bent and such until 4:30, at which point we continued walking to Nick's and then we woke Nick up, who unwillingly buzzed us in. I swear I could hear the "I fucking hate you guys" in the buzzing.

We then stayed up until 7am, sort of drunk, sorting through several boxes of his books from Georgia. There was a lot of Emerson. Then we found a yearbook, and we laughed through that - and had a particularly weird moment when we cracked up laughing when Nick said, "Oh [person's name]. . . He killed himself." But it really wasn't funny. . . and Nick was friends with him. . . so there was laughing, and "No, he really did!" and then the laughing stopped, and then I just felt sad.

I saw Nick's high school mushroom cut. And Nick read through his journals from high school, and yes, he was a pretentious cock then too. Ok, maybe not, but compared to my diaries it's like. . . he had real feelings and emotions. And they were Italian leather covers from his great grandfather. Oh and he referred to cigarettes as "cancer sticks". . . as he read with a cigarette in his mouth. My diaries were like "Wuz Up, diary? Today I went to school. Vinny's so cute!"

Regardless, we spent the night walking through the remnants of Nick's younger days, and I felt sort of sad, and happy at the same time. I don't hang out with Nick often (at least solo), and I know what I know about him. . . so it's sort of funny knowing raw feelings of a person when they were 15-16 more than you know now.

Then I slept for what seemed like nothing (3 hours) and went to work, where I was attacked by a mouse. (By attacked I mean I just saw one.)

But anyway, we all met and watched "Barcelona" last night, which was the second part of the trilogy. It was really good. I have a huge crush on Chris Eigeman now. Also, the secret to our movie club is that we watch the movie, then follow it with the trailer. I don't get it, but it's become a tradition. (If doing it twice can count as a tradition.)

I'm wondering if this will be long lasting, or just a weird 48 hour thing that we'll talk about for years in the future.

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