Hell on Portland Exposé

I finished reading the mail, leaned back hard into the office chair, and tipped up the glass held in my left hand.  A slug of rotgut-laced coffee burned its way down to a perennially empty stomach; both the gut and the chair groaned in complaint.  The note had said that Brian Darr, the famous sleuth and blog scribbler who covers the Hell on Frisco Bay, was coming up from Frisco to catch some pictures at the 32nd Portland International Film Festival.  He knew I squatted in Stumptown but not exactly where.  He suggested a face to face.  Unsure of his motives, my mind leafed through the hundreds of times we've corresponded for a hint of danger.  Was he interested in a jovial chat about the pictures or setting an angry record straight?  What if our online friendship broke down once we looked each other in the eye?  There was no way to be sure. So, for now I played it cool.

Sure, sure, let's meet,  I wrote back.  But where?  It had to be someplace very public in case things got ugly; someplace where I could sit with my back to the wall so there'd be no surprises.  I suggested a downtown gin joint I used to frequent back when I wore a badge that said "working stiff."  It's perfect: good food, plenty of sauce, and a guy behind the bar who knows it's sometimes healthier to look the other way.  It's also quiet enough that we could hear each other sweat a little.

First though I had a previous engagement to fulfill at PIFF.  I had arranged to be at a screening of Sugar (2008), a sports drama that traces the rise and fall of a minor league pitcher recruited from the Dominican Republic.  It's a human story injected with plenty of laughs and pathos.  Very heartfelt, entertaining stuff.  It didn't rise to that elusive level called "spectacular," but how many films do?  Then again, maybe I was just preoccupied with the needles poking me 'cause I knew he was somewhere in the dark screening room. I looked around and tried to spot him as the flickering projector caused shadows to leap about the walls.  No luck.  For all I knew he could be sitting right next to me...

I'll skip the minor details and simply write that we indeed met and repaired to the tavern I'd picked out.  I sat with my back to the wall as planned.  We both ordered something strong, quaffed it back, and settled into our chairs a bit.  There we were.  Eye to eye.  A moment passed.  Two.

Then it happened.  One of us said, "so, what did you think of the movie?"  And the floodgates opened.  We spent the rest of the evening rambling on subjects as diverse as Sugar, memes, Sunrise (1927), F.W. Murnau, The Mortal Storm (1940), UPA cartoons, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, camping, Flesh and the Devil (1926), overlooked films from late 1930s, John Ford's Four Sons (1928),  silent film screenings, The Steel Helmet (1951), the Film of the Month Club, G.I. Joe (1945), books, Gate of Hell (1954), Thailand, Intolerance (1916), work, Marines Who Never Returned (1963), family, Gone with the Wind (1939), Georges Méliès, and writing about our favorite things.  We got along famously.  I recognized the same smart, genuine, good humored guy that appears in his writing, and I thanked him for all the times he pulled something out of my post topics that I didn't realize was there.  It felt as though we'd known each other for years and we tried our best to squeeze a million conversations into a few short hours.

Afterwards, while I listened to the click-clack of the light rail carrying me back home in the darkness, it occurred to me that Brian and I have known each other for years if only through our writing in the blogosphere.  I suppose not every friendship demands that you look a guy in the mug, especially with the technology available to us these days.  But it's nice to shake hands once in a while.

Comments

[Pacze Moj]

:)

I think you should write in noir style more often. Heck, I think you should write a noir!

[Jacqueline T Lynch]

"I'll skip the minor details and simply write that we indeed met and repaired to the tavern I'd picked out. I sat with my back to the wall as planned. We both ordered something strong, quaffed it back, and settled into our chairs a bit. There we were. Eye to eye. A moment passed. Two.

Then it happened. One of us said, "so, what did you think of the movie?"

This is just swell. How I wish I could have been the dame sipping the highball at the bar, who invites herself to your table, moving in on you two lugs like trouble in a red dress.

"So what did you think of the movie?" has got to be the most provocative beginning to a conversation, and a relationship. Well, perhaps only to a film buff.

[Thom]

Pacze - Thanks for the compliment and the huge vote of confidence. Sometimes I do feel a noir churning around inside. Perhaps it's time I heed your advice (and that of some others) and finally let it out. Thanks again.

Jacqueline - You mean that wasn't you with the dangerous lips and shadowy eyes slinking into the flickering pool of candlelight surrounding our table and asking for a light in a voice so husky it could pull a sled?

I'm glad both of you enjoyed the fictionalized account of our meeting originally titled "When Bloggers Meet on Raymond Chandler Street."

[Jacqueline T Lynch]

A voice so husky it could pull a sled? I love that. Actually, honesty compells me to admit it probably wouldn't be a highball, it would be more like just gingerale. And I probably wouldn't be "trouble" in a red dress so much as a minor inconvenience, but that's not very noir-ish. I'd try to be as dangerous as possible, though, for appearances sake.

[Jenmacmill]

Hey Thom!

I'm so glad to hear of two mutual friends, who I have never met in person, meet each other in person! :) You and Brian are both fantastic writers and fantastic people! Isn't cinema a beautiful thing?

[Brian]

Thom, I really enjoyed meeting you "irl" the other night, and hope we can reprise one of these days. And this account of the event is just terrific...

I don't know if you went to the Varda film. I tried but failed to get in- the last ticket sold was three people in line ahead of me. Luckily it's coming to Frisco Bay in a couple of months.

[Thom]

Jacqueline - I wish I could lay claim to that line. I picked it up somewhere (a movie seems likely). Speaking of choice lines..."she was a minor inconvenience in a red dress" doesn't have quite the same poetic ring for a noir, does it? But it's very funny.

J - We reserved a spot for you at the table too -- just in case you strolled through the door wearing a beret and a long cashmere scarf carrying a camera and a valise filled with glassywing butterflies!

Brian - We'll definitely have to do it again sometime, pal. Maybe next PIFF if not beforehand. btw, this post was inspired by our discussion about writing fiction on the blogs. I missed the Varda picture too so I made up for it by finally viewing La Pointe Courte (1954) at home earlier this week. In it she displays a remarkable facility for recognizing beauty in everyday life and framing it to enhance its effect on the viewer. Have you seen it?

[Brian]

Not yet. It's playing March 6 and April 4 in Berkeley as part of the Varda retro there.

[Squish]

Miss you Thom!

Hence, you're it for some meme-age.

http://www.filmsquish.com/guts/?q=node/3812

Enjoy