On June 25th 2016, I took a 29 hour escapade to New York city to see three movies, of which I was only able to see two due to timing and poor planning on my part: “Citizen Kane” (1941) at the Museum of Moving Image in Queens, and “The Puppetmaster” (1993) at the Museum of Modern Art • Film Center in Manhattan.
The following is a relatively chronological ordering of my thoughts.
• Where on earth am I?
• Oh right, I’ve been on a bus for a bit over 3 hours, with a mild hangover. (I’m getting old.)
• There’s something rather ironic about corporations endorsing #Pride when you consider the historical precedence decades before… but I digress. I need coffee, stat.
• Thank fucking god for good coffee. New York, you’re not disappointing on the caffeine.
• Daily itinerary. Plus #DelawhereDuck. I hope I can see all three movies.
• There’s something about the mugginess and unapologetic grime of New York subways that makes me feel like I’m in the arteries and veins of a giant, breathing, metropolitan beast.
• There’s something oddly disconcerting and ironic to see advertisements for “Mr. Robot” while purchasing NY-MTA tickets. Just a bit ironic. And disconcerting. (A wee bit.)
• I’m quite good at this “make absolutely no eye contact” business. Is this my natural state of being?
• You had me at Doughnut Plant.
• “Are you ok?” – that’s unexpected, a local asked me if I was ok. (Yes I am, thank you for asking!) Is my limp/ankle injury that bad?
• Central Park – quite fun to wander around without a sense of direction, plus seeing a troupe of LGBT parade walkers practicing is fun.
• Hot damn these squirrels have zero fucks to give.
• Shit I’m late.
• Shit where’s the subway station.
• Shit wrong way.
• Shit there’s some weird weekend schedule.
• Shit my ankle is screaming bloody hell but I don’t care I need to get my ass to MoMI.
• Queens is cool, but can’t dilly-dally – running late.
• Shit I’ve missed Bordwell’s talk. Quite sad about this.
• MoMI employees just gave me a free ticket to watch “Citizen Kane’ because I probably looked like a bit too pathetic to turn away. Thanks guy!
• Beautiful theater – loving the blue interior with the patterns.
• Rosebud. (Finally watched it!… minus missing about 10-15 minutes, oops.)
• If Orson Welles can make “Citizen Kane” on equipment 100x the size of my phone, there is absolutely no excuse for poor filmmaking on my part.
• Super shit I’m running late to MoMA.
• Well yes advertisement you have caught my attention.
• Shit where am I – oh thank goodness for helpful samaritans. (Back in Manhattan.)
• Run-limp-hobbling my way to MoMA film.
• My cardio is shit.
• My ankle is shit.
• Getting old is shit.
• MoMA film people giving me some attitude but whatever I already pre-paid for “The Puppetmaster” and I am GOING TO SEE IT SIR.
• Many escalators.
• I’ll pee after the movie.
• Shit I missed 20 minutes.
• My screaming ankle is totally worth the movie.
• This movie is like a dream – I’d even argue it’s more real than “real life” these days.
• Mark Lee Ping Bing is a master cinematographer. I’m so glad I got to watch at least one movie in this MoMA Film series, seriously.
• “The Puppetmaster” reminds me so much of Bà Ngoại. I miss her.
• Am I crying?
• I’m actually crying.
• What a great movie.
• Why is the line for the bathroom so long.
• Well like hell I’m going to be able to make the 7:10 showing of “Three.” I’ll see it later.
• I’m hungry.
• Ramen time.
• My phone is about to die – time to mooch off of Starbucks outlets.
• I really should get a battery pack given how much I travel.
• Time to walk through Times Square.
• I just want into a standing cart. The vendor gave me a look that was mixed with bemusement and sympathy. I’m an idiot. (And I probably have a giant bruise on my left bicep.)
• Watching Copa America: USA vs. Colombia in Times Square. Not too bad.
• There’s something disconcertingly capitalistic about Times Square that makes me feel very, very alone… in a good way, I mean.
• There’s something even more disconcerting at being so aware as to when Times Square begins and ends. The juxtaposition is quite jarring.
• I’m thirsty. More drinks please.
• Last stop on the subway.
• Hello “New Yorker” building.
• Back home we go, and back to dreams.
The movie theater is my home – my home of dreams, imagination, and memories. While they may expire at some point in the future, at least I can revisit them in the remaining time that I have.