Movies

Mamet squinted as he stepped out of the dim, smokey establishment that was the local tavern. Feeling slightly light headed from the wiskey he had consumed moments before, Mamet stumbled down the sidewalk, circumspising his surroundings. He tilted his face skyward and allowed the sunlight to play across his features. As his gaze lifted, he saw the derelict marquie of the run down theater reaching its rusted, rotted form into the air. "The Dumb Waiter" was the show playing currently. Mamet has always enjoyed this play. He had always held a sort of absurdist view on humanity, and this show was a shining example of the sort of ironic absurdity that he felt ruled the universe. He purchased a ticket and walked into the shadows of the theater. The play had already started and the audience was shrouded in a murky soft glow from the stage lights. Sitting in the back row, Mamet had a view of the entire theater. The audience consisted of about four people including himself. There was a couple seated in the second row. The man had his arm around the woman and she was leaning her head on his shoulder. Mamet smirked at this spectacle, waiting for his usual feelings of disdain to develop. Young couples with idealized versions of romance, going to the theater because it deludes them into thinking that they are cultered and refined. Unfortunatly, these feelings never matured in his expectant brain. Instead, and to his disbelief, he felt jealous of the two of them. They were young, carefree, and obviously in love. Mamet wanted so badly to feel apathy, and yet what he really wanted, was to have what they had. He wanted that with the woman from the garden. For so long, he had suppressed any romantic feelings, swearing that he wouldnt allow himself to be hurt by another woman. Over time he had stopped feeling those urges and had settled comfortably into his life of peaceful indifference. What in the hell was going on? Had all of those years been erased by the site of this one woman? Nothing made sense and Mamet hated that. He could always justify his feelings logically and this random outpouring of feeling completely unnerved him. He looked at the other individual seated in the audience. She was seated closer toward the back and almost directly in front of him. She was sitting alone. He liked that. She looked peaceful and yet seemed to give off some sort of restless energy. Mamet thought that she looked like a visual representation of what he was feeling at that moment. As he stared at the back of her head, covered in beautiful brown locks, she turned and looked back at him. "Youve got to be shitting me", Mamet said under his breath.