I walked out of Casa d' Waffles and glanced around the street. Something definitely seemed a little off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It's like that funny feeling you get when something bad is going to happen. Perhaps it was the impending doom that came with such a menacing cloud cover. Then I realized what it was; the block seemed to be a lot noisier than usual. It wasn't like loud noises, just a lot of white noise. The most prominent one seemed to be what sounded like a voice over a mega-phone. It was lunch time, so I figured I had time to investigate before returning to show another movie.
As I approached what seemed to be a cluster of tents, approx. 12 tents if I counted correctly. I realized the megaphoning had stopped, when all of a sudden behind me came a shout of, "OCCUPY," right in my ear through a megaphone. I jumped around and glared at the megaphonist. "Occupy what?" I asked. The person just gave me a what-kind-of-question-is-that glare and stalked off, continuing his meaningless chant. Staring in disbelief at the small group of people who clearly listened to this guy, maybe even worshiped at the sight of their expressions, I noticed two other onlookers with the same face I was making.
I mustered up the courage to walk over and asked what they thought of the whole shebang going on. I quickly realized they thought it was just as stupid and meaningless as I did. Their names were Ethel and Taunya. Looking at the time, I bade them goodbye, told them to stop by for a free movie as an anti-occupy gift, and walked towards the Theater.
On my way over I realized that today was the day of some big play that Lucas Shaffer, the owner of the other half of the sawmill, was throwing on. With such thin walls, I wasn't going to be able to play any movies during the duration of the whole thing. I considered watching it, as I would have nothing else to do anyways, as I started the new Muppets movie. Of course, plays always tend to have expensive tickets. Perhaps I could finally walk 20 feet and meet this Lucas. Maybe a free ticket could come out of it...
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Look, Chalmers, let's understand each other. I don't like you.
I opened my eyes and shivered. As things slowly began to come into focus as my eyes adjusted, I used my overwhelming detective skills to figure out why I was all of a sudden so cold. Looking down the length of my sleeping bag I realized that it had come unzipped over night. No shit Sherlock. I sighed as I creaked my way out of the sleeping bag into a sitting position. I was so close to having enough money to rent an apartment, I could almost see the comfy, warm bed in front of me. I glanced at the watch on my wrist and groaned. 6:00 is way too early. I figured I might as well get up and get breakfast to warm up. I quickly changed out of my pjs and into some warm clothes, crawled out of my tent, and hopped on my bike.
As I around the corner towards the 24 hour coffee shop, I skidded to a stop. How could there possibly be a line outside at 6:20 in the morning?! I slowly rolled closer, when I realized it was closed. To wait for a 24 hour coffee shop to open, would just mess with my mind. I carefully avoided the crowd and headed to Casa de Waffles down the street. What is the world coming to?! A line slowing came into view through the fog outside the waffle shop. Then I saw it, the big sign stating free waffles with a cup of coffee. No wonder there was a line, I was immediately sold.
Comfortably warm after the waffles and coffee, I biked back over to the Popular to get to work. I heard the commotion before I saw it. One of the city buses seemed to be stuck mid turn blocking traffic on both H St. and Popular. To add to the scene a large-ish woman was yelling at the bus driver, apparently unaware of the approaching police cruisers. Certainly bold and saucy. Carefully avoiding any attention from the people stuck in the bubble of anger, I biked up to the Sawmill Theater. Heart racing from the adrenaline of the morning, I decided an action moving would be good for a first showing. Bullitt anyone?
--End Scene--
As I around the corner towards the 24 hour coffee shop, I skidded to a stop. How could there possibly be a line outside at 6:20 in the morning?! I slowly rolled closer, when I realized it was closed. To wait for a 24 hour coffee shop to open, would just mess with my mind. I carefully avoided the crowd and headed to Casa de Waffles down the street. What is the world coming to?! A line slowing came into view through the fog outside the waffle shop. Then I saw it, the big sign stating free waffles with a cup of coffee. No wonder there was a line, I was immediately sold.
Comfortably warm after the waffles and coffee, I biked back over to the Popular to get to work. I heard the commotion before I saw it. One of the city buses seemed to be stuck mid turn blocking traffic on both H St. and Popular. To add to the scene a large-ish woman was yelling at the bus driver, apparently unaware of the approaching police cruisers. Certainly bold and saucy. Carefully avoiding any attention from the people stuck in the bubble of anger, I biked up to the Sawmill Theater. Heart racing from the adrenaline of the morning, I decided an action moving would be good for a first showing. Bullitt anyone?
--End Scene--
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Oedipus in Oz
As the theater's Classic Movie Mornings wrapped up as The Wizard of Oz ended, I watched the last of the crowd trickle out into the light shining outside, and began cleaning up the trash left behind. I went up to the projector room to set up Contagion for the 1:00 showing. After double checking everything was ready to go, I decided it was okay to head out and grab a quick lunch at the grocery store.
I walked out of the old sawmill onto H. Street, momentarily blinded by the change of light. I walked around the corner whistling "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," as it had become successfully etched into my brain after watching it that morning. I continued on, whistling and looking up at the shapes in the clouds (one cloud looked almost exactly like the Stay Puft man...) when all of a sudden a static-y sounding Judy Garland started singing along. I looked to my left to find a blind man sitting against the clinic with a hand on the play button of an old CD player. "Good song you're whistling there, one of my favorites," said the man. "Always been one of mine!" I said. I took all of the spare change I had from my wallet and tossed it in his bowl. "If happy little bluebirds fly/ Beyond the rainbow/ Why, oh why can't I?" I sang (or at least attempted to) as I walked away, around the corner to the grocery store.
Stepping out on to the street with my successful grocery store run in a bag in my hands, I glanced at the time flashing on the electronic sign in the grocery store window. 12:30. I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, I use the side door - that way Lumbergh can't see me, I thought. Thank goodness I don't have a boss like that, but I still needed to start the movie on time. Time certainly has a way of ruining one's day. I walked as briskly as I could holding my lunch back onto Poplar. I whistled a shortened version of the chorus to "Over the Rainbow" as I walked past the man in front of the clinic again. I had enough time to see him smile until my face met the pavement in front of me. Rubbing my face I turned around to look at the bump in the pavement that had caused my fall. In the other direction my ex- lunch lay sprawled across the pavement. Shit. I attempted to save as much of my lunch as I could as I let out a big sigh. "What will come will come. Even if I shroud it all in silence," said the voice behind me. I had completely forgotten the man was sitting there this whole time. "Um... okay," I said walking away, officially confused.
As I walked back to the theater, I thought about what the man said to me. What will come will come? Did he know something I didn't? And what about the even if I shroud it all in silence? I walked into the theater from the service entrance to avoid any potentially upset people (It was now exactly 12:55). I started the previews and took tickets from the few people that walked in. I had hardly made any money from today's showings. What would I do? What will come will come. Even if I shroud it all in silence, I remembered as I settled into a chair in the back row of the theater.
I walked out of the old sawmill onto H. Street, momentarily blinded by the change of light. I walked around the corner whistling "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," as it had become successfully etched into my brain after watching it that morning. I continued on, whistling and looking up at the shapes in the clouds (one cloud looked almost exactly like the Stay Puft man...) when all of a sudden a static-y sounding Judy Garland started singing along. I looked to my left to find a blind man sitting against the clinic with a hand on the play button of an old CD player. "Good song you're whistling there, one of my favorites," said the man. "Always been one of mine!" I said. I took all of the spare change I had from my wallet and tossed it in his bowl. "If happy little bluebirds fly/ Beyond the rainbow/ Why, oh why can't I?" I sang (or at least attempted to) as I walked away, around the corner to the grocery store.
Stepping out on to the street with my successful grocery store run in a bag in my hands, I glanced at the time flashing on the electronic sign in the grocery store window. 12:30. I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late, I use the side door - that way Lumbergh can't see me, I thought. Thank goodness I don't have a boss like that, but I still needed to start the movie on time. Time certainly has a way of ruining one's day. I walked as briskly as I could holding my lunch back onto Poplar. I whistled a shortened version of the chorus to "Over the Rainbow" as I walked past the man in front of the clinic again. I had enough time to see him smile until my face met the pavement in front of me. Rubbing my face I turned around to look at the bump in the pavement that had caused my fall. In the other direction my ex- lunch lay sprawled across the pavement. Shit. I attempted to save as much of my lunch as I could as I let out a big sigh. "What will come will come. Even if I shroud it all in silence," said the voice behind me. I had completely forgotten the man was sitting there this whole time. "Um... okay," I said walking away, officially confused.
As I walked back to the theater, I thought about what the man said to me. What will come will come? Did he know something I didn't? And what about the even if I shroud it all in silence? I walked into the theater from the service entrance to avoid any potentially upset people (It was now exactly 12:55). I started the previews and took tickets from the few people that walked in. I had hardly made any money from today's showings. What would I do? What will come will come. Even if I shroud it all in silence, I remembered as I settled into a chair in the back row of the theater.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Round up the usual suspects
The day started with singing. Not my singing, of course, considering I am absolutely tone deaf, but singing from the blue jays sitting on the big oak trees just outside my tent. "Don't they ever stop migrating?" I said aloud to myself. At least they aren't menacing crows, I thought. I glanced down at my watch. Almost 7:30! I shot up, only to hit my head on the top of the tent and cause it to collapse around me. I untangled myself, crawled out, and sighed. I took a deep breath of the forest as I stood, staring at the mess I just made out of my fairly new living arrangement. Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn, I thought hesitantly, trying to convince myself it was no big deal. No big deal that I can't afford the rent at the Castle Apartments, or a stay at Motel 2. No big deal keeping the Sawmill Theater working and running on my own, while constantly adding to the (costly) movie reel library. The theater! I'd almost forgot. Yet again I would be late to open up the doors. Leaving a heap of tent and sleeping bag behind, I hopped on my mountain bike and rode towards the entrance of Sherwood Park and the certainty of a fresh waffle. With the way the day was going, a warm waffle would be welcome. It's not easy having a good time, even smiling makes my face ache. Too bad I'm not smiling.
As I finally rode out of the cast iron gate marking the entrance to the park, I immediately smelled some sort of odor. I love the smell of Napalm in the morning. Smells like victory. There's no way this slightly odorous smell was napalm, but that doesn't mean it can't mean victory... right? Obviously I was to the point of desperation for a good sign. As I grabbed my morning breakfast of a waffle with milk, to-go (all I have to do is ride through the drive-thru at this point; since I'm a regular they already have my meal ready), the smell was replaced by the strong scent of waffle batter. That smell certainly means victory. My smell on the other hand, did not. The day was growing steadily hotter and I was sweating grossly. You wanna know one of my secrets? Don't gross me out.
As I pulled out the keys to the Sawmill, I saw my watch. 8:45. Only fifteen minutes to take a shower in the old sawmill locker room in the basement (the one old workers used to use), open the doors to the public, and put on the first reel of the day, Casablanca. -sigh- So maybe today wouldn't be so victorious, but what's better than starting off with a good classic? And who knows, maybe today the 9 o'clock showing of The Help would draw a crowd?
With the heave of an old rusty industrial strength switch, the theater lights flickered on. Clock time says 8:55... Here's looking at you, kid.
As I finally rode out of the cast iron gate marking the entrance to the park, I immediately smelled some sort of odor. I love the smell of Napalm in the morning. Smells like victory. There's no way this slightly odorous smell was napalm, but that doesn't mean it can't mean victory... right? Obviously I was to the point of desperation for a good sign. As I grabbed my morning breakfast of a waffle with milk, to-go (all I have to do is ride through the drive-thru at this point; since I'm a regular they already have my meal ready), the smell was replaced by the strong scent of waffle batter. That smell certainly means victory. My smell on the other hand, did not. The day was growing steadily hotter and I was sweating grossly. You wanna know one of my secrets? Don't gross me out.
As I pulled out the keys to the Sawmill, I saw my watch. 8:45. Only fifteen minutes to take a shower in the old sawmill locker room in the basement (the one old workers used to use), open the doors to the public, and put on the first reel of the day, Casablanca. -sigh- So maybe today wouldn't be so victorious, but what's better than starting off with a good classic? And who knows, maybe today the 9 o'clock showing of The Help would draw a crowd?
With the heave of an old rusty industrial strength switch, the theater lights flickered on. Clock time says 8:55... Here's looking at you, kid.
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