For Cancer Research
Bobby, longtime friend of Michael comes on the podcast to catch-up, shoot the shit and talk life in Dublin Ireland.
I started telling her my backstory. How I stumbled into this industry from a double liberal arts degree. How I moved to California on a whim, because of some obtuse connection between a tech company and a hidden strand of thematic pulp from my Honors Thesis. How I still loved California, had a lease on an apartment, and really missed being in a place where the concept of a burrito had been fully fleshed out, deconstructed, and rebuilt anew. I told her about how I was only supposed to be in Dublin for 1 year, and then – “You met a girl,” she interjected.
When you arrive at the theatre, the doors are yet to be unlocked. There’s a huddled mass collected around the fringe of the threshold, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a hungover college student, who will unlock the door with a hardy yawn. The crowd shuffles in, all ages, clutching their phones, email apps open to the confirmation page with the code that holds the key to a ticket. Some are chatting with others, some are lingering outside taking the last drags of cigarettes or the final sips of contraband coffee in the shadows of the theatre. In a matter of 5 minutes that drag on like eons, the college student unlocks the cage that guards the reception desk, opens the till, and gestures, with his eyes half closed, for the hungry film fans to form a queue. After a lifetime of anticipation, you’re finally in your seat, and this is when the buzz really starts. The screen remains blank, the seats begin to fill, the phones are set to silent. Then…the lights go dim, and anything can happen.
The end of October is a pretty shite time to be living in Ireland. The 29th rolls around, and the clocks change. Suddenly you’re waking up in the darkness and leaving work in the darkness. Every other day, it’s “pissin’ rain”, and the sun seems to have taken paid leave with a note scrawled in…