From Pathetic Life #2
Sunday, July 17, 1994
It's Sunday morning and I didn't go to church. Didn't even think about going to church. Fuck church. Instead I slept late, had breakfast at Tad's, then spent the rest of the morning reading zines in my tiny room.
Come dusk, I took the train to Palo Alto for a science-fiction double feature. The last time I saw Forbidden Planet was at a sci-fi convention when I was 19, where they showed a scratchy old print on a tiny screen like you had in biology class, and the speaker malfunctioned and went silent a few times, and it was still a pretty good show.
Well, the print at the Stanford tonight was pristine; I've seen first-run movies with more scratches and blips. It's an even better movie than I'd remembered. Yes, the introductory narration is dated, as we're informed that mankind reached the moon in the late 22nd century, and the movie's all-white and almost all-male future is not up to Star Trek's standards or racial harmony and gender equality. But the movie is older and smarter than me, the special effects are still effective, the music is freaky, and its story of high-tech psychosis is still worth telling.
After such a great movie, almost no second feature could measure up, and indeed The Time Machine was only OK. It starts good, but then gets kinda hokey and dumb. Fortunately, there was a pretty lady sitting in an aisle seat two rows ahead of me, wearing shorts so short they used to call 'em 'hot pants'. Her legs kept me entertained when the movie didn't.
♦ ♦ ♦
After the movies, as I was waiting for the CalTrain home, a middle-aged man was holding a younger woman's hand, and they shared a nice long kiss. Then he said, "Thanks for a terrific weekend. I hope your husband doesn't find out." With that he walked away, leaving her alone on the station platform, with ten minutes before the train was supposed to arrive.
That pissed me off, and I hope it pissed her off, too. 1.) If I was getting weekend pork, I could at least come up with a few minutes of small talk at the depot. And 2.), a gentleman never abandons a lady after a date, let alone after a weekend. Not that I'm a gentleman, but I know the rules, and he should've at least waited until the train came."
This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The
opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions
now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance
is advised.
No comments:
Post a Comment
🚨🚨 If you have problems posting a comment, please click here for help. 🚨🚨