So here I am, in a suburban Philadelphia home filled with more bible quotes on the walls than my house has eating utensils. I'm here with one Phil Baiocchi, an old friend from the Oxbridge program I did the summer of 2002. We're stayed in touch, and getting to see him has been a real treat. We didn't really do much today, just hung around, met his very kind family, then headed to the theatre to see Terry Gilliam's Brothers Grimm. The most disappointing film I've seen in a good amount of time. It had good visuals and some classic Gilliam wit in the prop and set design, but the story was a silly pastiche of fantasy cliches that didn't hold together, and the dialogue and character development were horrendous. I knew it wasn't a Gilliam project from the start, and it showed. Even the dynamic baddie duo of Peter Stormare and Jonathan Pryce didn't do it for me. The whole thing seemed rushed and poorly thought out. Final thought: Fuck CGI for now and for always.
So, leaving L.A. was bitterSWEET (that is, more sweet than bitter). Saying goodbye to non-family was tough, but I feel like a did a good job this summer of balancing me time with pursuing/expanding friendships. I hope my social life at Wes moves beyond the campus a little more this time. My last two days, though, were a pretty fucking poetic goodbye. Saturday, I got Breakfast at Swinger's with Jessi, which went very well, followed by fine bowl action. That night, I went to the Youth Brigade/Cheap Sex show at the Trobadour, reading Poetics and chilling with Jessi, Pat and Ben in between bands. Going to a show alone is usually lame, but this was nice and stress free. Youth Brigade was fun, and the crowd was alright, although I got slammed spine-first into a wooden corner and thought I was paralyzed for a second. Still, the energy release I was looking for was there, and a rousing sing-along of "Sink With Kalifornija" as an encore to the night and to my summer.
Sunday, I pre-packed, picked up Madeline and Noah and heading to the Dodger game, where Roger Clemens shut us out for seven innings, but we won the game 1-0. A bit boring and fucking hot, but a fun game for me. Said byes to Noah, dropped Madeline off for nap time, errands, home, back to Madeline's with mom for dinner, then home to pack and escorted to LAX by Madeline. Ingest sleeping pill, become sleep-zombie, arrive at 7am EST. Ahh, home.
These next days are going to be any and all of the following: jaw-dropping, scary, new, invigorating, comforting, strange, awkward, silent, blissful, confusing, breath-taking, relaxing, filled with deep conversation, stressful, loud, soft, nothing, everything.
Here's to running head first, eyes closed, in hopes of who knows what...