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Her Name is Ed Wilson

Thoughts, Anyone?

“Nothing is real but dreams and love.”

Le Coeur innombrable, IV, Chanson du temps opportun by Anna de Noailles.

Because at the heart of me is a “girly girl,” I watched Paris je t’aime this weekend. Although the film was a mixed bag, I can’t deny that all the directors had their own distinctive ways of paying tribute to love and Paris. Plus, who am I kidding? Valentine’s Day is around the corner and I was in the mood for something sweet and surreal (see: chivalry/romance).  But my favorite vignettes of the bunch were Place des Fetes by  Oliver Schmitz, Tuileries by Joel and Ethan Coen, 14e Arrondisment by Alexander Payne,  and Le Marais by Gus Van Sant.  But there is one story that I absorbed and pocketed deep within my heart, Faubourg Saint-Denis by Tom Twyker.

It’s a story about a blind man who overhears a woman screaming at her wall. She turns out to be Natalie Portman (see: jackpot), an aspiring actress. From then on you’re hypnotized by the breadth of their relationship, from love to acrimony. It just floored me. I never dated in high school and when I got to college I  barely dated at all.  So, I never really experienced the “world ending, all-encompassing, crazy love” that I thought everyone else was experiencing. But that’s exactly what this short gave me.

It made me feel like when I came home someone was waiting there to laugh at my stupid jokes, or watch the Mavericks game with me, or someone who I could listen to talk about their pet peeves, or snark at their peccadilloes, someone who would schlep with me across the U.S. and around the world. It didn’t matter about my hair, or who I was, or what I looked like.  That it was our love against it all.  That’s what I felt. It felt honest, true.

Of course not all women look like Portman nor are all men as charming as Melchoir, but it was still nice to pretend.

Also, does this mean I don’t have to do a Valentine’s day entry?



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