...and the Santa Maria.

Can't even begin to smash enough syllables together and describe to you what I felt during the two consecutive screenings of BEFORE SUNSET (Shown in funky Lincoln Park no less!)--Everything in my chest just sort of rumpled opened and emptied like ice in a kitchen dispenser. The first movie was nothing short of a romantic slice of perfection and verisimilitude mingled with a potent shot cinematic chemistry a la Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. I was reading one review where the critic said that you could put both movies on mute and watch the two protagonists facial nuances and subtle tics and experience exactly what they are feeling! It's so true! What's amazing is how the charachters still harbor many of the same predilections that emotionally governed them in their mid-twenties even though they are now in their early thirties. It's more than a work of art; its a work of life and should be required viewing for anyone randomly peaking into the question mark-shaped keyhole of the Eternity blog--all 800 of you!

Mystical fortissimo or romantic malaria? I stayed out way late July 4th and snatched the Peoria Charter en route to Midway at 4am Monday morning.Hoo-kay; given the blogging discourses over the past month whom do you think was the only other patron on the bus at that time? Ms. Mara guised as a Stepford Wife-wannabe, Swissy-Missy, herself! Un-bull-insert-your-most-shocking- invective-here-leave-able! At 4 am in the freaking morning! (Thank you madame arya for diagnosing myself and swissy-wishy with a 'spiritual contract' way back yonder--it's time we got that neutered)...anyway, what's even more weird is that we didn't talk and I really didn't offically 'see' her until right when she got out....

Let me explain. Everytime I try to be quote 'adultish' or quote 'responsible' things get socially unkempt. Happens every time. I was in the midst of a no-sleep binge and figured I'd somehow endeavor to garner a little shut-eye on the charter bus. I took my contacts out (I have horrible vision and despise spectacles) a little before I arrived at the station and stoically waved at a blurred couple who knew my name. Since I'm a workaholic allota people know me from the library so I figured it was no big deal, plus my whole body was anchored in exhaustion.

When I boarded the bus my first thought was-"Shit, that was Swissy-Missy and her beau who bested me and I just gave them the figurative finger by being aloof and standoffish." I dismised the thought and fell asleep and woke up around six-thirty, plopping my contacts in just before I saw Swissy herself exit the bus. I wasn't even sure it was her (she on the other hand was wearing glasses, something I'd never seen before)until I saw her last name in the license plate of the car that picked her up.

What do you think about that?

Even more ironic, The last gift I gave Swissy-Missy was my DVD of Before Sunrise, Linlater's first moive, whose sequeal I had gone to Chicago solely to see later that day.


Let me iterate that I'm completely over Swissy and ardently apologetic that I raffled so many of my emotions in front of my fellow beloved blogsters. Swissy and myself didn't really have that much in common from the outset; we never 'officially' dated, had a few moments of snug intimacy that normally ended with her being extremely polite and professional on sort've an airplane stewardess caliber and me drooling, begging, living mostly in my cloudy little dreamworld of perfection I have gyrating at all times inside my skull. If Swissy would pop out of a birthday cake today wearing nothing but a Detroit Pistons ballcap and panties I would still be turned off; but something in the fact that we keep on randomly sauntering into each other (esp. when its just not healthy) is plain weird.