Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The art school cinematheque put on a "vintage" night at the Norwalk movie theater. It happened the same day as a pool party on the opposite side of the highways, and I almost didn't go because I wanted to get back into the pool, but I did really want to see Barbarella on the big screen. So Collie and I hopped in my quickly falling apart car, and drove the hour fifteen to the Firelands, blasting Shakira and fucking ourselves up on caffeine. I've since moved onto a Weakerthans kick, which is a bi-annual thing, usually late summer and then early spring. But its good to remember that Shakira deserves a place in your heart.
I hate when people tell you they have no type. Everyone has a type, and most people who are not you can see what it is really easily, your type I mean. People have a hard time identifying their own type. They think they are into some particular things, but over and over again there are other more important qualities/flaws.
I thought about types while watching the movie, because movie stars try to be everyone's type right? That's their job. Even the not so attractive character actors, they have to have charisma. And the girls especially. I mean, that's the whole point of having weird categories like ingenue or femme fatale or girl next door. They have to find their particular charisma and hone it like a sharp knife, keep it glistening and professional. I like Anne Margaret for that best honestly. Jane Fonda does a pretty impressive imitation of her. It's unfair that any one is born looking like those two.
What's weird is how ugly all the men are in the sixties and seventies. I mean, okay, not all of them. There are the timeless ones. But most of them, even the attractive ones, look terrible in those styles. Okay, not terrible. Just...not appealing. I think it's the hair I don't like I most of all. Is there a rule that with trending styles, womens' hair can be great or mens' hair can be great, but never the two together at the same time in the same place in history or the entire fabric of the universe will split like a chlorinated strand of blonde tress? I think I'm still bitter about what the Rachel did to the evolution of the art form. Bitter and in awe.
There was some dating site going around which matched people based on their facial structures, and matched you with someone who looked most like you. It seems laughable at first, until you go on facebook and stare at the profile pics your friends have of them and their significant others, and it starts to seem logical. Like, the two people most in love will have the same noses, or the same expression in their eyes. Same crooked smiles or arch to their eyebrows or ridge of their lips. Then apply that to the guys you are attracted to the most - the broad shoulder Irish eyed close cropped ones, or you know, whatever. So, is that how I think I would look closest to if I were a guy? Maybe. I know I like people who have eyes that look like mine. Every once in a while though someone completely different sneaks in, right? And then you're like, whatever, I don't HAVE a type.
I think that dating site is genius though.
I'm really glad I saw Barbarella for the first time in that theater though, it was worth the drive. I don't think it would have been the same at all if I had just watched it in someone's living room. The colors mostly. The colors were great. Tomorrow night, they're playing a "surprise" movie, which is some old Hollywood comedy, and I'm such a dork, I'm so excited. The nice thing about movies is that you can forget about inviting people or organizing plans or meeting up. You can just go by yourself and sit there, and be still and silent. I think I like going by myself now more than with others. I guess I shouldn't have said that since my friend is going with me tomorrow, and now maybe he'll take offense. Point is, I'll be so fucking sad when it snows again, and I can't drive out to the beach and then the movies again without dealing with crappy roads. Man. It's August already. What the hell happened there?
Every time I drive around looking for new places, I somehow end up in Norwalk. I think I've come into Norwalk by every conceivable road imaginable. It's actually getting too familiar for me. Like, who would have thunk Norwalk would become my sister city in Ohio? I would have totally guessed Toledo first, right? I love you Norwalk. Even the sad parts of you. Especially the water tower and the park.