Filmic Murmurs and Toothpaste
My mind scrapes with great pain and difficulty for the next word to write. And when the scraping sounds of mashed up syllables leave through the eyes, ears, nose and very rarely the mouth, I am left with incomprehensible sentences, phrases that speak to me but are codified in the perspectives unique to my own snowflake-y life.
Worse is when I rake through memories to just recall the films I may or may not have seen just days, maybe weeks ago. These films, commonly mediocre and forgettable, hide in a purple haze of inspiration that rears its lopsided head only when external forces seek them out.
“What did you last watch?”
And I will always respond, “that’s a good question,” because it is in fact a good question. Despite my love of the film medium, it is as full of thick, grey pudding as any other entertainment. Those movies that I would arrive at the theatre just for the satisfaction of the air conditioning and some comfortable seats. By the time I pass through the exit I wonder to myself “I’m certainly exaggerating right now, but I have nearly forgotten this film already.” By the time I hit the pavement, the process of evaporation is complete.
That’s a good question! It’s as good of a question as “what did your toothpaste taste like yesterday?” Each and every day I go through multiple events involving toothpaste, namely the brushing of teeth. Each day that toothpaste is placed on the brush and shoved into my mouth. Scraping against plaque and teeth, the toothpaste froths into a minty foam that I occasionally refer to as a “party in my mouth”.
Isn’t it surprising that there are a finite amount of toothpaste flavors, of which I probably have tried four (the latest is chocolate mint, which has only been found in dentist care packages much to my chagrin), and a question about what my toothpaste tasted like yesterday might be perplexing?
Each and everyday, with nearly the same toothpaste flavor. Was it green mint? Was it the blue mint? I don’t remember the act of toothbrushing most days. It’s part of the robotic skills that I have accrued over two decades of careful practice, right next to showering and masturbation. I do it as if I was possessed by a witch doctor that only wanted the best for my dental hygiene.
What did I last watch? Gee, I just paid 12 bucks to stare at a big TV, why are you asking me such skewering questions! I could tell you the last movie that I really liked, but last watched? Save it for the court.
Just like the toothbrush, my passion isn’t “watching” the movie. It’s having experienced a great film. Otherwise there are black holes of time in my life that I wish I had gotten back. And when I remember those films that waste my time, the ones that lurk in the back of my mind, mocking me for my bad decisions, I will make hell for them. I want my memories, money, and time back. I have only so much of each one.
-dom












