Since transitioning from working dad to stay at home dad to lazy dad at home alone with kids in school every day over the past 6+ years, the mid-week matinee movie has become a tradition unlike any other; The Masters without the Green Jackets, 4th of July celebrations without the fireworks, pumpkin pie without the pumpkin…or the pie crust. Just fresh whipped cream all over the freaking place. Delish.
Truth time, kids: I have little to no self-discipline when it comes to a few mainstays of my life as it exists in the dwindling light of 2014. For one thing, I’m vacuum sealed to the glow of small screens, wasting spending hours with my dumb face 6 inches away my 3 inch phone and fixating my still dreamy blue eyes, once filled with wonder and promise, on a sad flat planet projected as a series of GIFs and chum baited hooks onto the 15″ screen of a laptop. And then there’s the hazelnutty goodness of Nutella, the ‘box of donuts’ from my youth repackaged in a smaller, trendier, and more easily consumed form. 2 ounces of it with a handful of Minion Graham Crackers and I’ve reached a self-hatred nirvana only few have experienced. Time to lace up and reverse what I’ve done.
There’s also a need for me to escape the written word, mine and others, and wring out, into my open and willing mouth, the sponge of inspiration from a different medium, from film, from well-made flicks that’ll make me think or laugh or cry or reflect or all of the above during a solitary two hours in a seat that isn’t mine, in something other than sweatpants. There’s a need, once a month or so, to force-focusing myself onto something larger, literally and figuratively, onto themes foreign or familiar, to an narrative I didn’t construct. I drink up the visual creativity of others in quiet, with the light and angles and characters and dialogue and emotions firing into my mind like jacuzzi jets that can replenish, excite and also cleanse and concentrate the uncontrollable current contained but still wild and free.
Some people go for the spa pedicure to unwind and recharge. I can dig that, and my feet wouldn’t say no but that’s too rich for my blood. I choose to see the occasional matinee movie, the Noon showing on a random Thursday, a $5.29 ticket, while kids learn stuff, while the internet expands perfectly fine without me, while the small screens are mirrored black, while the Nutella lid remains tight.
