Sunday, February 19, 2006
Mere gloating
I don't mean to gloat, but tonight I got the boy I've been wanting. This didn't happen because I'm a smoothie, because I'm not; it happened because, if I may say so myself, I timed it exquisitely. It goes without saying that I'm pretty bad at hitting on guys, mostly because the guys I actually put effort into are gorgeous; so when I finally do weasel a way into hanging out with them, I usually get an arrhythmia thinking about how gorgeous they are and how impossible my task is. I had moments like that tonight--- nausea and fantasies of flight. But goddamnit I grit my teeth, dug in, brought it on, took it to the hole...haha!....closed my eyes, drank a couple of whiskey and ginger ales, and somehow everything worked out.
Again, it didn't work out because I knew what I was doing, or even because of the alcohol. It worked out for one reason: It was time. Our interactions were pretty good from the beginning, and there was the intense physical attraction (at least for me). It occurred to me that I should ask him out the first night I met him but this was impossible. I was too scared. Not doing it was risky however, as he only worked once a week and my schedule was fairly haphazard. He didn't like working there, and I thought I might never see him again after our first meeting. But if I asked him out the first night it would've put him off. Plus, he commented on how skinny I was, and that's not exactly a come hither compliment. As it turned out I'd see him every few weeks, and the gaps in time proved serendipitous. We'd speak more and more each night, getting more comfortable, the conversation building potential, but there was a certain glow and urgency to everything (at least for me) since I wasn't sure when I would see him next. Then, on the fourth night something changed. I sensed him warming up, sensed an opening. I had no idea how long it would last. If I waited too long, he'd think me aloof and move on, or start to consider me a platonic friend. The time to pounce was now. I think if I'd waited another few weeks or so I still would've been succesful, but not more than that, and any earlier would've been too early. It's like Brenda says on Six Feet Under to the lover she lost and will someday regain: "The more I live the more I think it's all about timing." He easily could've have stopped working, and then he'd be just another boy that I regretted not going for.
The asking out itself turned out to be easy. We'd just confirmed with each other that we both liked boys (this is often an necessary step for two boys who aren't obvious if there's no outside party to confirm it for them) We continued talking but were at work and kept getting interrupted. He: We should continue this conversation another time when there aren't tons of people around and it isn't so awkward. Me: Ok. What are you doing tonight after work?
I don't deserve much credit though--- he set me up for the easy volley and I returned.
Again, it didn't work out because I knew what I was doing, or even because of the alcohol. It worked out for one reason: It was time. Our interactions were pretty good from the beginning, and there was the intense physical attraction (at least for me). It occurred to me that I should ask him out the first night I met him but this was impossible. I was too scared. Not doing it was risky however, as he only worked once a week and my schedule was fairly haphazard. He didn't like working there, and I thought I might never see him again after our first meeting. But if I asked him out the first night it would've put him off. Plus, he commented on how skinny I was, and that's not exactly a come hither compliment. As it turned out I'd see him every few weeks, and the gaps in time proved serendipitous. We'd speak more and more each night, getting more comfortable, the conversation building potential, but there was a certain glow and urgency to everything (at least for me) since I wasn't sure when I would see him next. Then, on the fourth night something changed. I sensed him warming up, sensed an opening. I had no idea how long it would last. If I waited too long, he'd think me aloof and move on, or start to consider me a platonic friend. The time to pounce was now. I think if I'd waited another few weeks or so I still would've been succesful, but not more than that, and any earlier would've been too early. It's like Brenda says on Six Feet Under to the lover she lost and will someday regain: "The more I live the more I think it's all about timing." He easily could've have stopped working, and then he'd be just another boy that I regretted not going for.
The asking out itself turned out to be easy. We'd just confirmed with each other that we both liked boys (this is often an necessary step for two boys who aren't obvious if there's no outside party to confirm it for them) We continued talking but were at work and kept getting interrupted. He: We should continue this conversation another time when there aren't tons of people around and it isn't so awkward. Me: Ok. What are you doing tonight after work?
I don't deserve much credit though--- he set me up for the easy volley and I returned.
Monday, February 13, 2006
smoking and listening to Phish is..
FUN
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Match Point
I saw Woody Allen's Match Point last night, and in the past day I have thought about it more and more by the hour, which makes me think it's probably brilliant and I should see it again. At first it seems like typical Allen: Young social climber Chris Wilson (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) suavely insinuates himself into the lives of a rich family. Should be comedy, right? Allen cues us for a roasting of the upper class....and then, as suavely as his protagonist, turns the tables, and the film emerges as a morally ambiguous adultery thriller. According to Entertainment Weekley's Owen Gleiberman, "It's the most vital return to form for any director since Robert Altman made The Player."
In the opening shot, a tennis ball goes back forth over a net in soothing slow motion, opera plays, and in the movie's only narration Rhys-Meyers sounds dreamy and innocuous as he talks about how luck is more important than having skill. This is Allen being devious. There's nothing innocuous about this movie. Likewise, when Chris attempts to seduce a woman at his girlfriend's parents' house, the come-on is obvious in what seems a cheeky, let-me-help-you-with-your-swing kind of way. There's nothing cheeky about this movie. Aping EW's OG, I would have to say this may be the most ingenious (and vital) disguise a movie has worn since The Crying Game. It's literally a wolf in sheep's clothing. It's also the mirror image of Allen's own Crimes and Misdemeanors, another essay on luck vs. skill, the idea of a just world, guilt, and adultery. Crimes and Misdemeanors, though, announced it's subject--- the two male lead characters constantly asked the movie's questions aloud. After the opening narration, Match Point leaves everything in your hands. Crimes and Misdemeanors was essentially two separate stories grafted onto each other, one a comedy starring Allen, the other a drama starring Martin Landau. Good as it was, it had a structural awkardness that Match Point remarkably avoids.
The characters' behavior eventually morphs into something darker than mere lust gone awry, and the film is able to divide your sympathies in a way unlike any I've ever experienced. The thrill of watching this movie is not really in the action itself; it's in how the movie pushes you to root for someone you know is doing something awful. And the ending is so fucking good. It's the coolest (and most vital) ending since.......The Usual Suspects.
In the opening shot, a tennis ball goes back forth over a net in soothing slow motion, opera plays, and in the movie's only narration Rhys-Meyers sounds dreamy and innocuous as he talks about how luck is more important than having skill. This is Allen being devious. There's nothing innocuous about this movie. Likewise, when Chris attempts to seduce a woman at his girlfriend's parents' house, the come-on is obvious in what seems a cheeky, let-me-help-you-with-your-swing kind of way. There's nothing cheeky about this movie. Aping EW's OG, I would have to say this may be the most ingenious (and vital) disguise a movie has worn since The Crying Game. It's literally a wolf in sheep's clothing. It's also the mirror image of Allen's own Crimes and Misdemeanors, another essay on luck vs. skill, the idea of a just world, guilt, and adultery. Crimes and Misdemeanors, though, announced it's subject--- the two male lead characters constantly asked the movie's questions aloud. After the opening narration, Match Point leaves everything in your hands. Crimes and Misdemeanors was essentially two separate stories grafted onto each other, one a comedy starring Allen, the other a drama starring Martin Landau. Good as it was, it had a structural awkardness that Match Point remarkably avoids.
The characters' behavior eventually morphs into something darker than mere lust gone awry, and the film is able to divide your sympathies in a way unlike any I've ever experienced. The thrill of watching this movie is not really in the action itself; it's in how the movie pushes you to root for someone you know is doing something awful. And the ending is so fucking good. It's the coolest (and most vital) ending since.......The Usual Suspects.
