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For the price of one dollar, a pittance for a day of daydreams, I have been lost to daydreams about what my life would be like were I $310 million dollars richer. I haven't allowed myself these fantasies of capitalism, these longings for wealth in years and years. It has been probably since before I left for college and was more willing to daydream about what life might hold or it could hold, when things seemed less determined than for whatever reason they do now. Ten minutes go by of daydreams and when I finally check myself I am in meetings with a realtor to buy this gorgeous brownstone in Park Slope. It's really fun, allowing yourself to have these fantasies, these little imaginary interactions in your head. More fun than I had remembered.
I am thinking back to the old Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, not that Tim Burton thing, and how everyone wanted the golden ticket and how when younger, it is so much easier to get that thrill, to understand these kids in the movie and to want that also, that barely checked greed that put in an acceptable forum such as winning a prize, the lottery, makes it all okay, or at least seemingly so, and the guy at the bodega asked me how many tickets I wanted. I said one. And unlike the teacher in that movie who, incredulous, asked Charlie "One?", telling him he couldn't have just bought one Wonka Bar, the guy behind the register said nothing, just printed my ticket. But by his very questions, I knew that some people probably bought multiple, multiple tickets. If even I bought a ticket, taken with the spirit of the high jackpot, surely people that regularly buy tickets must be going bananas.
Last night, I watched Hollywood Ending with Adele and a cheap but yummy bottle of Tempranillo-Garnacha. The wine was better than the movie, and that isn't saying so much about the wine, as it is about the movie. It was all right, but surely the least perfect of the Allen movies I have watched so far in this marathon. It was definitely funny to watch Allen so blatantly talking about his own career, how he is a has been, and his movies from the last decade have sucked (not that I think so). But aside from all these inside jokes I got out of it, the movie was just missing something. It was too reliant on physical comedy, rather than on hyperverbal riffing.
Months ago, I applied to work at the Whitney as a "sales associate" (er, gift shop lackey), and because the way things in New York work is insane, because obviously, I don't need money and no one else does and so jobs contact you months after you apply, I got a call from them for an interview. And so I am going to try to schedule one and see how much this job pays and maybe even try to get the job if is decent. Also at some point in the next nine days, I have to go to court because they are claiming I didn't fill out the juror questionnaire, even though I remember doing it online. Fucking bullshit:
"Because of your failure to respond to these subpoenas as required by law, your personal appearance is necessary. You are to report to the Supreme Court Building, 360 Adams St., Bklyn, NY, County Clerks Office, Room 156 between 8AM to 4:30PM within 10 days from the date of this notice. The entire process should take no longer than 15 minutes. Non appearance may subject you to a fine of $1,000 and/or imprisonment."
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