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yrmencyn... just because I should be sleeping right now.
The night of cinema was absolutely fantastic, and a success beyond anyone's imagination. We were expecting at most 100 people, and instead we sold out the Manship Theatre (near to 350 seats). The audience seemed to enjoy it very much, which is great. And the film Les Diaboliques was redeemed for my by seeing it on the big screen from a good print (first I saw it was in a 3 or 4 hundred level French class, in a chair-desk thing, in the hot and stuffy basement of Lord Hall, on a VHS tape that had been copied umpteen million times).
That film was an interesting experience, too, because of my seating neighbor. I always forget who powerful a sense smell is. About halfway through the film, my nose miraculously cleared up (this happens but occasionally, and haphazardly), and I could smell the guy sitting next to me. Not that he stank, or that he was wearing any scents, but just him, himself. I breathed in and smelled fabric, laundry soap, a slight salt tang of dried sweat, and underneath it all the low pedal note of man. It was incredibly heady and sexual (I originally wrote 'sexy', but let us call a cigar a cigar), and I felt a bit invasive, perverse even, sitting there enjoying it without his knowledge (not to mention he's the student of a friend, and that's a little ooky anyway). That's not to say, of course, that I didn't purposefully avoid breathing through my nose so the scent could clear from olfactory memory and I could let it wash over me again. Repeatedly.
The night of cinema was absolutely fantastic, and a success beyond anyone's imagination. We were expecting at most 100 people, and instead we sold out the Manship Theatre (near to 350 seats). The audience seemed to enjoy it very much, which is great. And the film Les Diaboliques was redeemed for my by seeing it on the big screen from a good print (first I saw it was in a 3 or 4 hundred level French class, in a chair-desk thing, in the hot and stuffy basement of Lord Hall, on a VHS tape that had been copied umpteen million times).
That film was an interesting experience, too, because of my seating neighbor. I always forget who powerful a sense smell is. About halfway through the film, my nose miraculously cleared up (this happens but occasionally, and haphazardly), and I could smell the guy sitting next to me. Not that he stank, or that he was wearing any scents, but just him, himself. I breathed in and smelled fabric, laundry soap, a slight salt tang of dried sweat, and underneath it all the low pedal note of man. It was incredibly heady and sexual (I originally wrote 'sexy', but let us call a cigar a cigar), and I felt a bit invasive, perverse even, sitting there enjoying it without his knowledge (not to mention he's the student of a friend, and that's a little ooky anyway). That's not to say, of course, that I didn't purposefully avoid breathing through my nose so the scent could clear from olfactory memory and I could let it wash over me again. Repeatedly.
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Date: 2006-04-29 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-29 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-29 06:42 pm (UTC)