Kubrick Chronicles - Part 1

“A long long time ago,” as that  line from American Pie goes, a 22 year-old guy putting himself through university  as a clerk at A&P  ( today he'd be a " product associate " or something )  took a cashier he’d just met at work to a movie.  It would be their official "first date", since a beer after work the previous week couldn't really be called a date, now could it. Plus, on that evening while they were having a brew or two at a local beer joint after the late shift, someone had managed to make off with her purse from under the table while they socialized a few tables over. So, he just wanted that experience to go absolutely away.

 They did find the purse in a hedge outside with wallet empty but intact. Turns out she too was a student and there was nothing to lift from it anyhow.  But this time he wanted things to go swimmingly because he was already convinced that this red-haired young lady was different and special.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 "Where were you in "62" was the tagline for the movie they were hoping to see. The young man had heard a couple of things about this movie and it's director - some guy named George Lucas. It was playing at the Park Theatre, a recently rejuvenated holdover from the days of huge glittering marquees and grand polished stone vestibules that slowly sloped out to the street so patrons could be inside well before they reached the box-office. The line-up was just about out to the street, he noticed fitfully when they rolled up in  his scruffy old red V-dub.  They joined the line and in no time they were one back of the ticket window.  As the couple in front of them reached the counter the lady spoke:

   

 

  " Two tickets for American Giraffe ", she announced.

 The guy and his date stifled a chuckle.

   

  " Do you mean American Graffiti? " the voice behind the glass inquired.

The dialectical divergence was solved and our couple stepped up to the window
    

   " Two for American Graffiti, please." he said, resisting the urge to parody the lady ahead.

    

  " I'm sorry, that showing is now sold out." the voice replied.

 

 

 

The Park Theatre, as well as refurbishing its 19th century grandeur up front, had upgraded the  business end of things, too. What was once a  wide multi-level theatre with balconies for the carriage trade  was now three smaller one level  venues.  No more balconies for ,as Bob Seger sings, " workin' on mysteries without any clues "  but now there were two other flicks simultaneously available. The young man had been so blinded by the allure of his date that he hadn't noticed that as they snaked up  towards the ticket window. The choices were " The Exorcist " which was still bringing them in, and a curious third choice "2001 A Space Odyssey."

 

 

  The young man, realizing what else was available to see, was suddenly quite animated. He assured her that 2001 was  " an absolutely fantastic and  incredible movie " that would really change her life ( hyperbole was invariably his Plan B back then ) 

 "How could this evening possibly go wrong" he thought. The best movie ever made and he'd be the one to introduce her to it.

 

 

 Two hours later,  the flick still has almost half an hour left and he's started to notice that she's gone to to snack bar or the ladies room a lot.   Magically, she was in the seat beside him when the lights came up with an indescribable expression on her face. 

 "She digs it, too," he thought ecstatically.

As they sauntered down the elegant marble and granite vestibule to the front entrance and readied their eyeballs for the outside, he popped the question he'd been dying to ask:

 "So, is that an incredible movie or what ?? "

She answered in a forthright manner that he would later come to know and love. 

 " That was the stupidest movie I've ever seen! "

Cut to 2013. Our protagonist is having dinner with the lady who was once in red - like he does 4 or 5 days every week. In the interim he's probably seen 2001 at least once every few months since 1973.  In anticipation of this blog he asks again that same question and listens attentively for her answer:

" It's still the stupidest movie I've ever seen! "

Gotta luv that lady, chicklets and all ! ( And there is still time to change her mind !! )

I mentioned a few times back that I'd have to get to Mr. Kubrick, and the time has come. It won't be done in one entry, either, how could it?  Hell, I'm not sure if two will be enough!!

 

Okay, to the business and brightness of the day. Carolyn, your editorial observations, from the other side of the writer's  river, really kick home the whole gist of this writing thing - and how it's so much like the teaching gig in one very fundamental respect. One is up there bare-faced and bare-boned on the stage. Amazing that we who do it and have done it regularly still find it so intimidating. I guess if we didn't it would become stale and prosaic, though, wouldn't it ?
 

 

I wouldn't think of withdrawal as defeat but rather along the lines of living to fight another day. It's a wise and sage-like thing n'est-ce-pas??
 

 

Riddles.. Yes Riddles !!
 

 

You were quite on the mark with the funeral thing. I am thinking that your offering this time is an EXIT sign. Many times I have found myself inside a concrete labyrinth and the red EXIT sign was truly the way to where I wanted to be - home!
 

 

My next lurks below:

 

Arrow straight or twisted about

Shiny soft ,salty or sweet

Logic that isn’t logical

Inspired roller-coasters

Some are made to be hung

 

 

 

Don

 

 

P.S. Way back near the start of these blogs, Carolyn, you noted that someone had dug the way you wrote memoir stuff, but that this didn't do it for you. I think that anyone who can take someone else's memories and make them shine even more brightly isn't doing ditch diggers work at all.