Double-feature mood.

Over the course of the weekend, I saw AMERICAN WEDDING, NORTHFORK and I rewatched SWIMMING POOL. On DVD, I watched 8 WOMEN twice and rewatched TWIN FALLS IDAHO.

It fascinates me when I get in the mood for double-features, and I suppose that was what I was in the mood for this weekend. I watched two Francois Ozon films, both starring Ludivine Sagnier but completely different in their approaches, tone and execution. Whereas SWIMMING POOL feels for the majority of its duration like it's a typical thriller, everything about 8 WOMEN is farcical and over-the-top. (Yet, as Larry and Lupo told me, 8 WOMEN still works in its colorful, ridiculous way.)

If I have the patience for a double feature, it usually means that I'm avoiding something. True, the mess in my apartment is frightening me, the prospect of packing it all when the dishes aren't even clean and the vulture neighbors in the apartment next to me seem to want my space. Plus, I realize again that I'm moving all alone - even though I am moving in the right direction.

I didn't do the double - I guess it was actually triple since we saw one film at the theater before watching the two on DVD - feature alone. Larry told me he was open to it, for he and his partner David Marshall went with me to watch NORTHFORK, even though Larry hadn't heard of it before my phone call. Larry found the film haunting and magnificent. I was slightly less taken with it, though some of its images and scenes were absolutely terrific. (NORTHFORK is a gorgeous movie, if not always a plot-driven one. I can deal with people talking in occasional metaphors. I have more of a problem with characters speaking only in metaphors.)

I'd not watched TWIN FALLS IDAHO in ages, for I watched it over and over when I first purchased the DVD. (Kacoon, though she tells me that I don't often lead her astray when it comes to my movie selections, won't go near TWIN FALLS IDAHO since I told her that it featured conjoined twins hiring a hooker, which it does. I told her that it's actually a very human story, but she refuses to indulge me in a Polish Brothers film.)

While Larry watched it, I was reminded of why I loved the movie in the first place. I'd never seen a story like it before. And though it was a bit weird at first, the story is made as human and as serious as possible through clever twists and excellent acting. Visually, it's compelling. It's one of those movies that I took to heart the moment I saw it, and it remains a favorite.

I'm glad I did all these movies today, for I'm also thinking about Snapshot and how I seem to like him more than I should or more than it makes sense to like him. I was supposed to see him this weekend, but that seemed highly wishful. He was working, and, as stated, he has a boyfriend who deserves priority. Those phone calls to him over the course of a couple nights a couple weeks ago, though we said they took place in some sort of enchanted, non-existent place, have made me care for him. I feel connected to him, and I shouldn't. I'm afraid I'll scare him if I even arrive for a moment in his life, as though it'd be better for him and for me if I didn't exist outside of an occasional phone call. It's weird. I don't feel like I'm a danger to anyone, even myself. I don't feel like I'm going to do anything wrong. But I question my own motives in my head, just to make sure I'm not being crazy or silly. (I went over this in my head when he had to cancel on me, asking myself why I even really needed to see him, why it felt important or why it hurt. I don't know. I guess I have a crush, but it's silly since it's not really based on any real interaction. Of course, I guess crushes aren't usually based on anything real.)

I cleaned out the front seat of my car when Doug came into town on Saturday to see SWIMMING POOL with me. I figured I would keep it clean. Because of the move. Because of Lupo's insightful suggestion that my messy car is a symbol of my messy life. Because I want to give a boy without a car a ride to wherever he needs to go - so that he can kiss me and touch my knee. Because with the move comes another opportunity for me to fix the old habits in my life that lead to things getting broken or messy. Because Kacoon pointed out to me that her car doesn't have a working CD player, yet she is the one who drives us everywhere.

I want to let people in, I guess. I want life to be different. I don't know if my habits or my way of pushing people and potential lovers (for, let's face it, I would prefer it if an available Snapshot, whom I don't even really know at all, were more than a friend to me) away will reoccur. I know it likely will, but I am the one with the power to fix it. And I suppose I should believe that I will.