Center of Gravity

June

A few days ago I was sitting at work and noticed three things.

One. I had a very busy month coming up. I’d spent a lot of Spring writing, which is to say, alone. The quiet was nice, but I was losing touch with everything else. So, a couple weeks ago I (reactively? intuitively?) frantically filled my June calendar, pinning plans down like a storm prepper who’d just heard a tornado warning. June was packed. I had one open weekend to myself before the storm.

Two. I really wanted to watch a movie. This had me thinking about logistics. Usually when I watch a movie it’s in one of three places: (1) the desktop in my room (too small), (2) the TV in the living room (too bright), or (3) Joey’s place (too loud). This weekend felt important. I needed a better option.

Three. There was a better option. I hadn’t been to a theater in a while. I stared at my calendar and the upcoming weekend stared back at me. Yeah. I was going to the movies. I pulled up Fandango and scrolled. There were actually so many movies I wanted to see—more than I expected. How was I gonna pick? A prickle of indecision started to form, and that’s when I had an idea. Why pick?

There was a world where I watched three movies at the theater in a single day.

Spending an entire day alone at the movies felt appropriately antithetical to the very stressful, very social month I had planned ahead of me. Plus, it gave me somewhere to put my energy which, at that point, as you can probably tell, was all the fuck over the place. It was the exact kind of harebrained scheme I needed to ward off June’s looming dread (spoiler, it didn’t ward off shit, but it all works out in the end, you’ll see). Three purchases later and Avi’s film festival was a go.

Cannes at home

I began my day with kimchi. That is to say, I had planned to make kimchi at home from scratch for the first time (my only other plan before my triple-feature idea) and I was loathe to skip it. So, I squeezed it in. At 6am you’d see me cradling four napa cabbages and a daikon radish across the Vons parking lot. The sun was barely rising.

Here’s how you make kimchi. First, you chop the vegetables and brine them for two hours. Then, you make the seasoning paste. Next, you drain the water and mix it all together. Finally, you put it in a container and let it sit for two days. I’d been wanting to make kimchi for a long time because there aren’t a lot of Asian stores nearby and it’s cheaper to make it myself. Also, I could adjust the spices to my liking; I can’t handle too much spice on account of my stomach problems which, I know nobody asked for, but hey that’s on narrative texture.

I was just getting to the mixing part of the recipe when I realized I couldn’t finish in time, so I had Zoe finish it (thanks Zoe) and raced to the theater for movie number one.

Dangerous Animals (Sean Byrne)

I was alone in the theater (which made sense, it was 10:15am) until a guy came in, large beverage & popcorn in hand, and sat in the row third from the screen/third from the aisle. I’m being specific because that is objectively the most insane spot to choose when you have literally all but one seat (that being the one in which I sat) to choose from. Maybe he was a regular and my seat was the seat he always chose, and I messed up his flow and his brain just snapped, and he went rogue. There’s no other explanation. Anyways.

It bothers me that movie theaters play movies for empty houses. I wonder if there’s a certain point where, if nobody’s watching, they just cut the screening to save on the electricity bill. Just logistically that would be a good idea. I feel like horror movies in particular generate a cursed energy that disperses outward, and if there isn’t at least one person watching, it seeps into the world and makes bad things happen. I know this because when the horror trailers started playing, I felt how staggering it was to absorb all that energy alone. Sorry—almost alone. Can’t forget Mr. Row 3. Looking back, I’m glad he was there.

Around halfway through the movie I realized what a damn good time I was having. Dangerous Animals is like if Ben & Jerry’s ice cream was a movie—audacious, chunky, indulgent, disgusting in the best way. It wasn’t just the movie, though. It was the experience. Outside, it’s so easy to pull out your phone or pause or otherwise break immersion. Inside, it’s a complete ride; a front-to-back experience by design. I had so much fun.

I finished the movie and there were these two girls, a manager and an usher, and we kind of just stood there at the doorway, talking for a weirdly long time. It must’ve been 15 minutes before I started to wonder if they had a job to get to. Then I figured, yeah, they probably don’t have much to do in the matinee slots. If a movie screens and just one (sorry, two) people watch it, there isn’t exactly a lot to clean. It was cool though, they were fun. I was shocked at how much they knew about movies until I remembered where they worked. Did you know they get 9 free movies per month? What the heck? They’d have to rewatch movies, right? Also, who wants to spend their free time where they work? Actually, now that I think about, I definitely would if I worked at the movie theater. That would actually rule. 3.5/5

Intermission

I drove to the Trader Joe’s for lunch. Also, a dark chocolate bar. Between you and me, it’s my workaround for a caffeine fix—which is ridiculous, right? A workaround for caffeine? I’ve made peace with substances, or at least with myself in relation to them. I don’t call what I do sobriety, exactly. I just know what throws me, and dark chocolate doesn’t. Most people I know wouldn’t even clock caffeine as a drug.

But still. Something about it snags in my head. I’d never order a cup of coffee, but I’ll eat an entire Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Almond Bar for the buzz. You decide what that means.

Anyway.

I bought the damn chocolate, and high on the idea of it, I took a detour to this cupcake bakery that’s NEVER open when I’m free. I got one pistachio-raspberry and one cinnamon roll cupcake. For later.

Bring Her Back (Philippou Brothers)

This time it was just me and a couple a few rows behind me which was, inspiring. If I had a girlfriend I’d want to watch matinee horror movies with her too.

This movie absolutely slapped. It was totally bleak, like seriously such a bummer, but I knew it was good because I didn’t feel bad after—just weighed down and a little cooked from the sheer intensity. It was very thorough; it targeted every aspect of discomfort. There was this one scene where a lady collected her pee and then snuck into her foster kid’s room to pour it on his lap (visceral horror), effectively gaslighting him into thinking that he’d lost his mind (psychological horror). There was also a lot of gnarly stuff with teeth—I was munching my way through some chips when that scene came on (watch it and you’ll know) and I just gently put my snack down. Who would’ve thought? Body horror on the big screen goes stupidly hard.

The best part was that, for all its spectacle, it had soul. The grief metaphor, although wildly unoriginal, was delivered with equal parts care and cruelty. As soon as I got out of the theater, I texted every horror fan I knew (and even some of the non-horror fans) to drop everything and watch it. 4.5/5

Intermission

At this point I had a nice big chunk of time before movie #3 so I made my way to the gym. My mind was racing, yes because of how rad that movie was, but also because of the chocolate. Between sets I felt a spirit (caffeine) compel me to respond to some texts.

Texting stresses me out. These days I’d rather just call my friends; being on my phone makes me feel boxed-in and peaky. The less time I spend on it the better. As I scrolled, the little blue dots formed a checklist, and I felt a combination of dread and determination. I would be free of the obligation to respond right now. I made my way through, deleting, closing, responding as I went, and then, buried nine contacts down, a text from a friend that made me feel a little sick.

Hey just checking in. How are you doing?

A couple weeks ago we were planning to meet at the end of June and we’d both freed up the day, but I’d stopped responding when she followed up for details because, well, I don’t know.

I guess I’d been burnt out from planning everything else and the effort of it all felt disproportionately heavy. I thought about how, just a few years ago, it was so easy to hang out with multiple friends every day. Now, booking a few weekends put me on my ass. Let me pull out my emotion wheel. I felt disappointed for being so winded by what felt like a tiny amount of work. I felt vulnerable being in a position to respond honestly. I felt remorseful that I left a friend on read and embarrassed that my silence prompted them to check in.

It’s one thing to leave someone on read, it’s a whole other thing for them to then follow up with genuine concern. Like, wow, you’re really showing up and being a good friend when this awkward silence was 100% on me? Do I deserve this kindness? I took a deep breath and typed a response.

dude tbh i’ve had a weird and anxious past couple weeks. have u felt that too? something in the air

on paper tho everything is good. i made kimchi from scratch that was pretty cool

also i’m watching three movies in theatres today i just saw the best horror movie ive seen in a long time

ps that date in june is still open but if im being totally honest i thought about it, realized i dont even have a solid plan, and i just sort of put it in a box in my head and haven’t opened it since

I sent it without proofreading and instantly felt a vertiginous wave of release. I thought about the cycle. How planning feels like work until the plans actually happen, at which point I feel great, so I plan more things, but then it just builds and builds and I don’t know how to stop unless I steer into a wall and crash. I thought about how dumb it was to feel assailed by something as cushy as making plans with friends. I thought about what it said about me that I was the type of person to watch three movies in a single day. I got back to my reps.

Ballerina (Len Wiseman but honestly also Chad Stahelski)

My last movie, this time not alone! My family and I got dinner (Mediterranean) then settled in for the 7pm show.

The best thing about Ballerina is that it prompted me to rewatch the first three john wicks again. If I’m being generous, I’d say that the action was solid, on par even with the originals—but only sometimes. Other times, it felt overbaked and thinly stretched. The John Wick Franchise is like 99% style 1% substance, but that 1% is critical. Ballerina made that abundantly clear. As soon as I thought this doesn’t make sense, I knew it was a miss. The important part, though, is that I had a good time regardless.

Usually, I don’t like going to the movies with my whole family. Zoe’s great, but once everyone else gets involved, I get nervous. I feel responsible for their enjoyment, like if I don’t pick a movie they love, they’ll think it was a waste of time and, by proxy, they’ll think that I’m wasting my time because I watch so many movies. I say I don’t care what they think, but this is clear evidence to the contrary, which is frustrating to me less because of what it actually implies and more because it’s just very unoriginal of me. My mom in particular is a nightmare in theaters. Sometimes she’ll make really loud critical comments or just sigh super loud during a long silence, which makes me bristle with discomfort, as if I, specifically, am the subject of her impatience. Her relationship to pop culture and media is scornful, scrutinizing, but I know the weather would be worse if I didn’t invite her. The weird thing is, after, she seems perfectly fine, as if suffering through it was part of the fun. As a horror fan, maybe I can relate to this in a very oblique way. In any case, I wasn’t so bothered this time. Maybe it’s because I was resilient (sanded down, numb) from a whole day of movies. I’m trying, okay? 2.5/5

Curtain call

We got home past 9. You’d think I’d be gassed on movies this point but I’d developed a weird sort of inertia. The difference between 1 and 2 movies? Immense. The difference between 2 and 3? Reasonably smaller. At that point, I could’ve easily watched a fourth and, hey, if the math checks out, a fifth, then a sixth. The weight of the next day, the next month, was wearisome, but the weather that night was fine. Maybe I’d just watch movies and keep going forever.

Zoe and I had the cupcakes (the pistachio-raspberry was wack but the cinnamon one was perfect) and we talked about john wick and how much we hated Ballerina. I love her so much. I had a glass of milk. I read some of my book. I changed into shorts and I sat on the edge of my bed and just stared for a second.

I’d had enough of these hyper-packed days to know that, even though my body screamed at me for some sense of closure, the best thing to do was just slam the door hard.

I turned off my phone, no alarm, and turned out the lights.

Sleep came easier than I thought.