“Oh my god, Candy. Today I nearly died laughing”
His grin is filthy, from ear to ear.
“This is about a disabled person, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s bad, I know-”
“-Jesus, Dick-”
“-I’m going to hell anyway, just listen. Oh my god. Okay: A fat woman. Wearing a visor. In a wheelchair. Getting chased by a wasp”
“…was it an electric wheelchair?”
He creases.
I left the house on a Saturday for the first time in three weeks. I tell myself that it’s alright; my loophole being that I’m going to visit Claire on the Quayside to pick a pantone for my next print.
Sitting at home surrounded by canvases with only my own company, I feel like I’m slipping. Like maybe not being around paint for a few hours will be good for me.
I reach the traffic lights at the top of Northumberland Street and notice that the girl standing next to me, jabbering away to some guy, is wearing shoes that I own. No, not so remarkable. Why this is a blip on my radar though is because I bought my pair five years ago in South Africa.
Wanting to be sure, I turn and openly stare at her feet with a half-sneer. A thinking sneer. Advertising teeth and showing too much gum.
All I want to do is point at them and say “those are from Hilton Weiner” and have her know that she and I have something in common. But because that tiny dose of familiarity will come with a side of overpowering awkwardness, I decide to remain mute.
I bet I could’ve said “Jenni Button” and “Cavendish Square” to her and she’d have known what I was referring to. She’d probably have matched me with “SACS boys are fags” and I’d obviously laugh. We’d both laugh.
I can’t wait for December. There should be generally less self doubt and fewer nervous stomach cramps. When I wake up, I bet all I’ll think about is the next thing I’ll push down my throat. And I won’t think twice about taking a Saturday off. And I certainly won’t feel compelled to feel an affinity with perfect strangers.
I can’t wait for December.
I chose Pantone number 186.
Oh No. I’ve also painted a super panda. Except he’s got undies on.
I feel like such a nana when this sort of thing happens. I’m going back under my rock.
I hadn’t heard of it before this week and still can’t fathom where the budget came from, but I thought I best mention it since it’s one of the prettier movies I’ve seen. And very pecyooliah.
I couldn’t find a photo of the swimming elephant (which is reason enough to see it). Sorry.
See it if you like your films pretty and your heroes tearful.
Don’t see it if men in cardboard masks makes you mutter “wank”.
It’s not quite as dark as The Cell, but this is balanced out by there being as absence of Jennifer Lopez’s ass.
