Meaning that, at least in certain ways, I live in exactly the right place.
A friend and I went and saw Catching Fire at Cinerama yesterday. It had been almost exactly a month since I was last there, long enough for the costumes in the cases to turn over. Oh, Adama’s fanciest dress. Sure, 7 of 9’s incredibly tiny catsuit. Good good.
And then, across the lobby, I saw it, and I knew it without even being within sight of its plaque.
Ok, I was excited about Leeloo too. But THE DUDE! I’d know that manky cardigan everywhere.
THE TINY HOLE. Probably as it was when it was pulled from Jeff Bridges’ closet.
So yeah, I’m cool with nerds having money. When I imagine being stupid wealthy, the first thing I dream about is travel and relative freedom. The second is preservation – buying up a couple favorite blocks in Capitol Hill and having them be – well, not preserved in amber, but having the liberty to evolve in a way uninfluenced by development.
I like Cinerama.* And I like that we do get the benefit of this ubernerd’s incredibly deep collection of… stuff.
*Fun fact: when I first drove into Seattle nine years and two or three weeks ago, I stayed near the Cinerama. I drove by it and was a little freaked out, because it looked, at first glance, like Boston’s porno theater, and I had a shivering moment of not knowing what the hell kind of neighborhood I had booked myself into. I spent the first night hiding in the Days Inn, eating pizza I’d had delivered and contemplating my fate while watching cable.
