Sappy

Tonight I went and saw a movie at the old Del Mar theatre downtown. I paid, I declined the candy offered by the bored twentysomething behind the counter, I climbed the carpeted stairs to Theatre 2 and stuffed the useless ticket into my bag. They never bother checking tickets anymore. For all the girl behind the counter knew, I could've been in Theatre 3, watching some prepubescent coming of age story about life in Catholic school (though God knows I've had enough of the real thing and spared me the torture of watching Kieran Culkin act it out). Anyway, I wasn't in Theatre 3 watching Kieran Culkin. I was in Theatre 2 with flushed cheeks and a flood of silly tears drowning my face, and when I walked into the bathroom afterward I thought, "God, what's wrong with you? You're crying because Hugh Grant with a guitar reminds you of someone you don't see, don't talk to, and never expect to. You're being dramatic for nothing, and now look at you, you've got eye makeup down to here and you look like a ghost in that mirror. Go home and say hi to the cat. Have a bath, have some tea, kick off your boots...write a song. Something happy. Smile, ya sap!" I half expected my reflection to wink at me.

So I went home, skipped bath, skipped tea, and wrote this. And my boots are still on.