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Posted: October 18, 2012 in otiose

Giving Trainspotting another look for some reason…

I think I first watched it while still in high school.
All I could remember from the first viewing to the second was the bathroom suppository scene.
I’m fairly certain, my second viewing was as a freshman in college.
I was somewhat indifferent to it, or maybe I didn’t like it.
I read the book, decided I didn’t like it, and forgot everything but the dialect.
Late in college, someone I liked and respected recommended the title.
I couldn’t remember anything about it except that I’d decided somewhere along the way that I didn’t like it.
I picked up the book in the library about a year later while browsing.

I don’t know why I just rewatched the movie.
I’m not sure why I decided that I didn’t like it years ago.
Maybe I identified with the character, Tommy.
Maybe I lumped it in with shit like Requiem for a Dream and American Beauty.

Sigh…maybe, I still identify with the character, Tommy. I’m just a little further along in the storyline now.
I won’t remember later.

There was a dog at the bottom of the steps a few weeks ago, and I thought I was losing my mind.
I listened to the dog and the sound of someone breathing
at the bottom of my steps.
I didn’t go outside.
I didn’t want to know if they were really there.
I was afraid they wouldn’t be.
I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle opening my door and finding emptiness.

There was a man sitting at the bottom of my steps with a dog that wasn’t his.
He was concerned about the dog and contemplating what to do.
He sat out there with the dog for most of the night, and I sat listening.

A few nights ago, I woke up to pounding on the door.
Pounding followed by shouting.
Pounding followed by shouting followed by near silence
with a man sitting on the bottom of my steps
without a dog.

It wasn’t you.
I’ll never see or hear from you again.

Evidently, my mind is having an extremely hard time getting over that.
There was a dog, however, and there’s still a man

sitting at the bottom of my steps



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