how i spent my vacation 2

Yesterday was too relaxing, I guess, so today I decided to put myself through a good deal of physical and emotional stress.

I woke up to find Encore Love was playing Before Sunrise. I tried to resist the temptation, but I just couldn't. I curled up on the couch like a baby and watched Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke roam the streets of Vienna and got nostalgic for when I first saw the movie when it was released in the theater like 11 years ago. There was pretty much nothing in the world that I wanted to do more than take a train through Europe, meet the European Woman of My Dreams and have a brief fleeting affair with her and then forever pine over what might have been. It would also help if we were both amazingly witty and intelligent and were able to poetically articulate our deepest, most intimate thoughts and philosophies in a thoroughly entertaining sort of way. Of course, my conversations with the fairer sex--of whom I'm sexually and spiritually (whatever) attracted to--usually consists of "So, uh, you having a good time tonight?" in addition to nervous side glances and awkward silences. Regardless, Before Sunrise pretty much defines what I think "love" should be and regurgitates that in under an hour and a half, which is why I find the damn thing so compelling, wonderful and unfathomably depressing. Basically, that fucking movie ruined my life.

I haven't seen it in quite some time and I was happy to see that it stood the test of time (unlike Clerks). Its witty banter and soaring romanticism put me in a sober and ponderous state that really could have only been cured by alcohol. But since it was still mid-day, I decided to walk through the park instead. There, I didn't encounter any charmingly intellectual French women, but I did notice a gathering of Mexicans off the path by the creek. They were singing and clapping and there were a lot of them. When I got around the bend, I strolled off the paved road into one of the dirt paths that lead up to the creek and saw that they were performing baptisms. One of the congregation would step into the water and the preacher would perform the ceremony before dipping the person into the water. Each person's baptism was greeted with one person shouting, "Halelujah!" before the rest would break off into song. They were clapping hands and hitting tambourines, and the whole thing seemed pretty joyous. It reminded me of the scene from O Brother, Where Art Thou, where Pete and Delmer become "saved," but only a lot more exuberant. Something made me want to join them, but I'm sure it's a sin to crash a baptism, so I continued on my walk until their loud rejoicing faded away behind me.

There were a lot of people in the park today, because it wasn't too hot out. But as I pushed deeper passed the swimming holes, the park-goers became more scarce. I walked faster and worked up a bit of a sweat. A lot of the dirt paths I liked to walk during the winter time had become rather overgrown with weeds, so I had to back track a few times. Eventually, I finished my figure 8 loop through the park and headed toward home where I made myself Spam and eggs for dinner and popped in my DVD of the sequel to Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, because, apparently, I was asking for it.

Other than Julie Delpy being ridiculously dreamy, I think the movies strike a chord with me because the main two characters are about my age. I was 18 when the first one came out and the characters were 23, now, nine years later (the movie was released in 2004), the characters have aged as the actors have (though Julie doesn't look like she's aged a day). In Before Sunset, Celine and Jesse are both 32, and I guess it's easy for me to see myself in them (though I'm not nearly as good looking). It's just as good, if not better, than the original. It's nice to see a movie without special effects or plot twists or action--well, sometimes. They just walk, and talk, and they're perfect and I hate them, which is why I'm on Guinness three.

I'm supposed to be at work in a few hours. Tomorrow starts the online proofing of the magazine, which means I basically just click a little button with my little mouse and wait for pages to load and wait for ads that may or may not come in and stress that the whole thing is fucked up and it's going to cost us hundreds of dollars to fix it. I'm not looking forward to it. With any luck, this Guinness will make me sleepy and help me dream of European cafes and beautiful women and interesting conversation and other things I won't encounter in the forseeable future.