The various

Cinema Paradiso
When oh when is Greenville going to give itself an independent movie theater? Yesterday, I drove all the way to Asheville to watch the Fred Rogers documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor? at The Fine Arts, not because it isn’t playing here, which it surprisingly still is, but because I wanted some assurance the other people in the audience would do unto my moviegoing experience what they’d have me do unto theirs. I also wanted to eliminate the possibility of explosions bleeding through from adjacent screens. I also like ginger beer with my popcorn.

Cowardice
A near-encounter with the grifter this morning. Sidewalk. Downtown. Not 15 feet from my destination, I noticed him walking toward me, so I sped up and made a hard left through the door, thus avoiding both false pleasantry and honest rebuke. I scattered like a cockroach. Yay me.

Remote location
Acadia and I drive to Sanford, NC next month, there to remain until the autumnal equinox is behind us. We’ll share a large and very comfortable lakeside basement apartment with one other actor and she’ll spend her days exploring its countless nooks and crannies. We’ve stayed there before and found it very much to our liking.

Entrepreneurial spirit
Several decades later, getting paid to do things I enjoy doing still feels like finding money on the street. Sometimes, in fact, when potential cients ask me what I charge for a certain service, the answer I give has less to do with what I think the service is worth than with my desire they not know I’d probably do it for nothing if they had no money and I had no expenses. Capitalism despairs of people like me, socialism rejoices.

Rudderless
I miss the kids. The Young Turks, I mean. The angry progressives. But my divorce decree from Charter Cable includes no visitation rights, so now I wander the political landscape without beacon or encouragement, a handful of left-leaning podcasts my only companions.