Then

Then what? Whee, a question.

Playing at the local theater is Reprise. I want to see it.

Reprise played, earlier, in the New Director New Films series, in 2007.1 There had since been another NDNF series, for 2008. Natural conclusion is that I did not see Reprise in 2007. Also featured in NDNF 07 was Once that I did/have not seen.

Hey, I didn't see anything from the 08 series.

What else?

There is the thing that, in fact, I have not caught much from most past NDNF series. Probably not since 02, if even. So. But. Okay, there goes my bitching about my slipping cool credentials for missing out on the good movies before they even blip on Joe/Joan Pleb's radar. I was never part of the cool crowd. NDNF is certainly probably as hit or miss as the majority of other film festivals/series. But there seems always, year in and out, to be significant hits based on movies I eventually got the chance to see because they got distribution or were screened at later festivals, or based on subsequent movies from directors that NDNF gave noticed to. To drop names: Wong Kar Wai's Days of Being Wild in 91, Hou Hsiao Hsien's A Summer at Grandpa's in 86, Michael Haneke's Seventh Continent in 90 and Atom Egoyan's Family Viewing in 88.

As for Reprise, I also do not think I ever saw a Norwegian movie. Cool crowd or not, who has?2 Anyway, breaking another cherry is always exciting.

Oh, my friend, recently, when I think I was describing to him my evening with some friends, said. Or before that evening, earlier that afternoon I went with some people, including the aforementioned friend, let's call him S, to the Cai Guo Qiang exhibition at the Guggenheim.3 The exhibition was decent, in some ways too over the top and too obvious/pretentious, in other ways showcasing the vibrancy and potential in contemporary art: exploding Chevys, 99 wolves, gunpowder paintings, I dig it. Anyway, flashforwarding a bit, we eventually met with some one, let's call this just-met person T, who was pals with another person in our museum visiting crew, closer back around my downtown comfort zone. Then S left because of family commitment, and the rest of us got drinks and snacks, and so forth.

So S's questions the next days pertained to events following his exit. Maybe he didn't ask, maybe I offered to retell that past evening's adventure with those friends. So either it was S asking, in paraphrase, "how was it afterwards?" or it was me recapping, "after you left..." Regardless of the starting point, it was essentially, "dang, T was nonstop with the questions yesterday." T, like I said, was someone else's friend, let's call that someone else person L, and so I didn't really know T and T didn't really know me. To help keep track, so far me, S and L, and one more person, let's call that person P, went to the exhibit, and afterwards, we met with T, who is L's friend.

I do not really know T but had met T once, and not said much to T at that meeting, other than, probably, "hi" or some salutary derivation. Which is kind of what I'll be getting at with this bit. The thing is that I am - despite my obsession with word count in blogscape - very, very uncommunicative.4 Or antisocial. Or shy. Or obnoxious. Or disinterested. And so forth. So.

That evening, for the record, S, as previously stated, is a dude, as is P. L and T? Why, they don't bother with the y's; they gals. That evening, we were taking advantage of happy hour. My drinks were wee-eak, sake-based, but I was dead tired already, too hungover from last night to properly spend a day hiking round Guggenheim's infamous ramp. Strangers for the most part - me and P were old-ish friends, L and T were old friends, me and L were sort of okay-ish friends, P and L were brand spanking new-ish friends, and P and I with T were new friends, S is bounced from these equations because he already split; phew! - there were all that goes into getting better acquainted. Except.

Except, I had a really wacked out dream some nights ago.

Except, love is friendship caught fire.5

Except, something else.

Something else. Clearing my book shelf, you know what I have a lot of? Journals and scrapbooks and other bound blank sheets. Gifts from folks who imagine that I need spare scrap paper to capture inspiration. You know what century we are in? The paperless e-century. Moreover, do you know what white sheets of paper stir in me? Inadequacy.6

Else. Also playing locally this weekend is Joint Security Area. Back when Korean movies mattered, JSA was a suppose high mark. I am not crazy about current hype-darling director Chan Wook Park, but, I assume, this earlier movie will not be over the top with his stylized/fetishized nihilism. But I am loco about the fun cast which gots the reliable Kang Ho Song, the interesting enough Byung Hun Lee, and I can't wait to watch Yeong Ae Lee. Hopefully I will have someone to watch this movie with, which might be tough, as... I don't know, I have no one to go with.

Scheduled to run this year in Subway Cinema's annual Asian movie survey is Happiness.7 Subway Cinema throws one of the hoppingest movie party, to speak of a festival to come as oppose to one that has already concluded, like NDNF. This year's announced lineup thus far is steroid strong. Anyway, Yeong Ae Lee was crazy good in Jin Ho Hur's movie titled One Fine Spring Day. Jin Ho Hur newest, which if unclear is Happiness, should be a return to... oh, I don't know, better than average form? I rather keep expectations low and down. Supposedly, terminal illnesses are crucial elements of the melodrama plot, but hey, ain't like originality has to be squeezed out from every single corner of a movie. The Asian Film Festival normally draws a crowd of friends, or at least one or two others; relatively speaking and these days, 1 + I is a crowd. And, the festival is plenty-of-fun packed. And.

And. Send me stationary to make me horny.8

The cool part is I am pretty into this band called Los Campesinos! that forums/blogs perusing had guided me toward. They are ok, kind of like Natalie Portman's Shaved Head with less synths. Or, does that make them pretty much unlike NPSH? They both got youth, heightened playfulness and a sort of irreverence. Which seems slight foundation for a reference. Okay, maybe this helps: Los Campesinos! are from Wales, signed in America to Wichita Recordings and Arts and Crafts, and dance punk-ish.9

Or, I am as pretty into Los Campesinos! as I can be streaming off the internet, without having bought any of their albums, even though lack of on hand wifi access is the only thing keeping me from hitting iTunes Music Store for the new long play album titled Hold On Now, Youngster. NPSH do not have a proper album out just yet, reportedly July, so I'm psyched for glistening July's pleasures. You know what, I've used MySpace much more than I ever imagine I would. I've also used YouTube much more than I ever imagine I would. Does this mean I'm ready to accept the 21st century? Anyway, if you surf, the My Year in Lists video on the Los Campesinos! website, not awful.10 5!

5!

5!

5!11

The not cool part is that, see, at their MySpace page, NPSH do not have NYC down for a tour stop so I may not be watching them. Speaking of that, no, the not cool part is that the e-perusing that led me to Los Campesinos! was earlier this week, like probably on May 20th or so, which is mere days ago (2-ish) as of this sentence's composition, and then of course, once they seem okay, I wanted to see if perhaps they would be visiting my area while/if touring. Checking, it didn't look like NYC was part of their dates. Do bands hate NYC? Do bands hate my attendance? Checking more, guess what? Los Campesinos! had in fact performed locally, pretty much kicked off their new US tour at Hoboken's Maxwells, a magical place that involves bridges or tunnels, with included stops at Williamsburg's Music Hall, a magical place that involves Brooklyn, and just. May. 19th. Monday. at. Bowery Ballroom, a magical place that involves within walking distance for me. Regardless of whether the show(s) would have been sold out, I curse god/destiny/karma/luck/irony/randomness the same. And/or, perhaps, somethings cannot be forced.

What this means, by the time Los Campesinos! or NPSH come round again, you know who will be filling the crowds? Ho hum dwebs Joe/Joan Plebs. Elbow rubbing in the cool crowd party? Stalled.

So. S said my expression when people ask me questions is, apparently, one of constipation. Constipation is a word that I am uncomfortable using, writing, speaking, etc. Maybe it is the imagery or memory's vestiges, or its somewhat vividness, but "constipation" has a harsh sound which is a certain factor for why I poo poo on that word.

So. L, T, P and I were sitting at the Saint Mark Place hangout, drinking off the happy hour specials. Unfamiliarity compelled T to ask, ask, and ask questions of me, and P: how did this, when did that, how was this, repeat, and more as ways to get acquainted. I paused, then sort of answered. Constipation like? The thing is I am never persuaded that blitzkrieg quizzing equates to getting better acquainted. Instead, it is more a game to fill dead time.12 Shy. Obnoxious. Uncommunicative. Disinterested. So forth. And stubborn.

Except that is the thing. I do not like to talk about myself. And I lack all sorts of curiosity. And I do not like to talk about myself. Add in my belief that most casual conversational inquisitions are deadly and seriously inane, what choice left when asked, "so what do you do?" A pinched, strained sour expression? Oh, play along, it's not more than harm-free social vacuity ping pong. Oh but, no thanks. But constipated so?13 There is perhaps a taking oneself too seriously? Seriously, that seriously? And yet, 1720-ish words of this? This? Loosen that grip. And/or pretend better. May, be. I guess there is a difference between something that I more (or less) realize about myself versus something one of my friend, S in this case, points out about me. Guess? What exactly is the difference? Uh, okay. Well. Then. Introspection is an ongoing business. Let's on-go!

Or not. Don't think. Listen. Reply. Repeat.

... everything you think and everything you feel is alright, alright, alright, alright, alright.14

T has red, ruddy cheeks. Like, blooms from constant, severe avuncular pinching. Or she rouged herself in a too dark room. She is plenty cute. And nice enough. Her kid brother skateboards, Reprise is directed by Joachim Trier.

S has no qualms using the word constipation. Nary such expression on his genteel puss however. He skateboarded in his youth.

P has a broken nose proximately caused by me. Which, under the all's well ends well tenet, I find endlessly amusing. No trace of nasal kink.

L has sexy legs. Or, if she every wore a skirt or dress, and better yet thigh high, we would find out. Someday.

Myself? I have a ways to go and on-go; at times, a ways less too, I suppose.

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1. www.filmlinc.com/ndnf/ndnf.html, with a link to past series.
2. Tough in cheek, other Norwegian flicks have played in past NDNF and other festivals, and have enjoyed distribution.
3. NY Guggenheim. I Want to Believe.
4. 560+ words at this point.
5. Taken from The Perfect Man, a Hillary Duff vehicle directed by Mark Rosman, and quoting an unidentified someone.
6. To the gift givers: thank you, if I haven't already.
7. www.subwaycinema.com.
8. Taken from My Year in Lists, by Los Campesinos!. And you must confess that at times like these / Hopefulness is tantamount to hopelessness. 4!
9. Arts & Crafts is famed for being Broken Social Scene's label. Wichita is more diverse, starting with Bright Eyes but have landed scores of interesting bands/performers. Both labels attract a certain "sound," which, if familiar, gives a lazy shorthand to explaining the band.
10. www.loscampesinos.com; and there is always YouTube if the band site updates.
11. See 8.
12. My pet evocation from Antoine de Saint Exupery's Little Prince: When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.
13. Let's include the consideration that S saying constipated could even be a nice way of putting it.
14. Taken from Deceptacon by Le Tigre. In Reprise, there is a party scene that seems de rigueur to its genre. Could have been sustained a touch longer or in greater detail, but quite well done nonetheless. Which is to say, since initiating this: I saw it. Pretty good. YouTube housed trailers here and, if you think Miramax is lame-o, there. Also, learned from the movie: Norway might not be as cold or snow-blanketed as first guessed. ... linoleum floor, linoleum floor / Your lyrics are dumb like a linoleum floor.