I am usually fond of the rain. My only fantasy involves the rain and a lonely country road. However, we have had only one truly sunny day since I returned from my conference. It begs the cliche’ …oh how the sun brightens my day.
I rented movies. I guess I was in an indie mood and hadn’t realized it until I got home with them and had to explain their content to the roomies. I was working Friday night while they watched one and they all left to bed before it was through. I took it as a bad sign. Thank goodness I didn’t let that stop me from watching it. So last night I crawled into bed prepared to let myself fall asleep to the movie, Beat, but was rewarded with a decent movie about the beat set in the 1950’s. It was a story based on the true events in the lives of William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg and Lucian Carr. Though I like him, the story only had brief reference of Kerouac and therefore it offered a chance to see others of that genre and generation and it wasn’t about the writing but their real lives.
Maybe I have another fantasy which is to live life the way they did… wanderers and gypsies and writers with a sort of poetry and snotty wit that only comes from privilege, intelligence and maybe some madness to boot. Only one of which I seemingly possess.