Here it is Sunday morning and I have been vegging around for a while now. STill not dressed. I watched the tape that came with my Principal Secret introductory collection (gift from Tina) because there are no written instructions on using this stuff. I like things to be in writing so I can take a quick look if I have forgotten how to use the stuff.
Anyway, slacker I may be. I feel like going back to bed.
I am going to a movie this afternoon: The Son's Room. It's time to forget cleaning and all that other shit for a while.
There were maybe two dozen of us in the theater watching this film today. We all got there early. I had a cup of coffee, a large water, and a small popcorn with me, along with my book (Cities of the Red Night) and wallet. So I took a seat at the way back, where there is just a little cluster of chairs, mostly there to accommodate people with friends in wheelchairs. I was able to set my stuff on the floor next to me, which was quite a bonus. I wonder why it seems I usually have too much stuff to keep on my lap.
The movie is in Italian, directed by the guy who stars in it (he also plays minor roles but I honestly did not pick him out in them). The plot follows a family as it goes about its regular life, emphasizing its resilience and the fondness and support each has for the others. Then something terrible happens and there are sharp breaks with normalcy, as I think one would expect. Through some unexpected ties with the past, the family finally resumes its life, saddened but able to cope.
A review I read called it "slow". I guess it is, but it wasn't a slowness that bothered me at all. What I found awkward was the breaking of scenes. It seemed like the writer (I believe it's the same as the director & actor) couldn't find a way to wrap the scenes neatly so he just cut them. It works but seems not as clean and finely formed as it could be.
Otherwise, it's a nicely made, very lifelike film that I'd recommend. I think it's best to see subtitled films in the theater, so you can focus on it without feeling distracted. There are very real emotions here, not overplayed, worth feeling.
I am thinking again of Dwain. Yesterday I came upon some pictures of him and I just stared at his smile, and asked him, "why?". Today I spent a little time out on my front porch, sitting there reading, and I remembered that this was "our place". We would sit there together with our coffee, talking.
The circumstances in my case were a bit different from the usual but the end result is familiar territory to almost everyone, I suspect. Why is it so hard for me to accept? I think that it makes me doubt again, doubt my attractiveness, doubt my ability to make love well, to be a desirable woman. Why, though?
I sometimes try to imagine a relationship with a man and I have difficulty imagining it all the way through. Easy enough to see the dinners out, the talking on the porch, the kiss. Beyond that it gets fuzzy, hard for me to see. I doubt myself a lot. I wonder if I can be truly attracted to a man to the extent that I will crave his body the way some men have wanted mine. I need to feel this way, this next time.