"There was a time when I could text a friend about getting a drink at 4:50 p.m. and be drinking that beer with them an hour later, but those friends now live in Minneapolis or Albany or comparatively remote parts of Queens, and they have children, and they don't really drink like that anymore, and so on. I know that those days are long gone,"
"These both are and are not my people, is what I'm saying. They answered their phones right before Good One started and said "Whatever" after The Mastermind ended, and while none of that diminished my affection for both of those (very good) films, it also just became part of the experience. That the theaters were always full for these small, strange films was nice."
There was once a time of effortless, spontaneous socializing when a last-minute text could lead to an hour-later drink, but friends now live far away, have children, and no longer embrace that lifestyle. A lingering impulse for unplanned moments clashes with newly adopted 'old-person' routines and interests. A subscription to a film program produces regular screenings with older, cantankerous audiences whose reactions and presence make one feel youthful by contrast. Watching classics and small, idiosyncratic films becomes both a cultural pleasure and a social lens on aging. The individual accepts shifting priorities while still cherishing remnants of earlier spontaneity.
Read at Defector
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