fauteuils d'orchestre

i wanted to post a picture coz i had nothing to say. nothing. but i do. i went to the movies yesterday, alone, coz it was a french movie and i was not going to subject anyone to that. i adored it. i laughed out loud and the rest of the audience, the other 4 people in the dark, heard me as i heard myself laughing out loud, but for the first time in my life, i couldn't give, as they say, a flying fuck. excuse my french. i was one of those snobs before, you know, the kind that felt sorry for people that went to the movies on their own. now i choose to go alone. it's more liberating, better than worrying over the guilty feeling of dragging someone into drab punishment when they should be getting entertained. but this french movie, unusually, was sublime and fathomable. no godard abstract non-sense. no philosophication. an ending in the end. brel, aznavour, becaud. i wanted to sing with the old lady over the hill. and while i was happy i was sad. because i realized i didn't know anyone here, in this period of my life, who would get it. who would sing "nathalie" and feel the urge to throw sanity to the smithereens and pounce up and down with the old lady over the hill.
or feel the bittersweetness of becaud's 'la solitude' as the words and the music swivelled in the dolby nr of the studio.
i was sitting close enough, but not too far, for "fauteuils d'orchestre".