When new male friends casually tell you to drop by their hotel room after a few drinks, should your antennae go up? I know the ink on my divorce is barely dry, and I’ve never experimented in that direction - but as an open-minded man in an arguable mid-life crisis… should I?
That invitation of sorts was immediately laughed off, perhaps when he saw my non-response (said he whose virginity has reset after five months of abstinence). But hey, forget that we’re having fun!
AI says: “Vermouth is a key part of Spanish food and drink culture, used as an aperitif before meals and enjoyed in various social settings.” I had two glasses of vermouth tonight, as well as two glasses of beer (the drink tickets kept flowing). And I can say that FILMADRID started to get really fun tonight. I also disembowled our government around 1:34 am to some attentive Spaniards, who no doubt recognized this was my finest hour, as well as three sheets to the wind.
But Bonello!
I saw him sitting alone, squatting by a brick wall, looking at his phone. I recognized him from his appearance in The Criterion Closet, and I had no hesitation to seize this opportunity to make an impression (if only for my own amusement).
I told him I liked that he picked Lodge Kerrigan’s film, Clean, Shaven as I thought the film was underappreciated and is one of the best cinematic portrayals of mental illness. The use of sound especially is very evocative of the main character’s schizophrenia.
At his seminar (which I only barely got into due to not having a ticket) Bonello evoked Leonard Cohen’s quote: “A pessimist waits for rain. I am already wet.” I couldn’t help but see the parallels with my rain-soaked walk back to the hostal the day before.
Earlier that day, I visited the most famous cinema bookstore in all of Madrid.
But all the titles were in Spanish, so I didn’t buy anything. I did however attend a huge book fair in El Retiro Park, where I found a kiosk that sold English language volumes. I bought a book of essays and poetry by Pier Paolo Pasolini. One of my colleagues labeled my interpretation of Taste of Cherry as “poeti-critico” and I can’t think of a more beautiful and apt description of my aesthetic than that.