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the colours in your head



Last night, Jon forced me to watch The Ring. This wouldn't be in any way remarkable, except for the fact that we both loathe horror movies. He's the kind of guy who will call me up three times to remind me to bring Four Weddings and a Funeral when I come over, and I'm the kind of girl who really enjoys not being forced to watch stupid action movies, or movies that make me clutch things. I like horror movies, but only when they're of the variety that you might see featured on a Mystery Science Theater 3000 re-run. And yes, I am a dork for having made that reference. He has a meeting with one of the producers of the film, so he can't admit to being one of the ten people on earth not to have seen it. I was perfectly content being one of those ignorant ten, but having rashly promised, I couldn't back out. We realised that it was the most ridiculous situation on earth-- a girl who doesn't like horror movies being forced to watch one for the sake of her boyfriend-- but then HE doesn't even like horror movies! What blatant stupidity!

The movie itself wasn't as bad as it was hyped up to be, though there was a lot of clutching of Jon's arm and yelling at him when I discovered he had dared to fall asleep and leave me spiritually ALL ALONE in his room. His room is not the sort to take fright at, ordinarily, but it is endowed with two closets, and everybody knows that closets are portals to imaginary other dimensions, where vague creepy things lurk. There are also a fair amount of hiding places for evil bugs, disembodied hands, and other things of that ilk.

My problems really started when the movie was over and we prepared to go to sleep. Jon, of course, passed out immediately, but all my previous exhaustion had morphed into an extreme need to twitch. Lying there, muscles spasming at random, as Jon happily smacked his lips and burrowed deeper under the blankets, I tried to think soothing thoughts. I focused on my navel, slowed my breathing, began to visualise all the tension flowing out of my body in one calm stream and-- the girl in the movie was horrendously creepy. But, you know, she wasn't nearly creepy enough. I wonder what would have been creepier.

Breathe. Release tension.

Her feet were awful and white. I hate people who are that dead-looking pale colour. Why did the little boy have to be creepy as well? He was like a more satanic Damien.

Breathe. Release. My feet are cold.

you know it's kind of awful that my feet reach over the edge of the bed when I lie like this and there's that awful gap between the bottom of the bed and the floor and what if something were to just reach up and--

Breathe. Think calm thoughts.

This went on for a while, devolving into a half-dream with cold hands and a creepy blank-eyed japanese girl from some other movie I've been forced to watch. I finally completely popped awake at 4:30 in the morning, desperate to go to the bathroom, but too afraid to leave the little island of the bed. Besides, the bathroom would involve... a journey past a shower curtain.

I really do hate scary movies, really. But even more than that, I curse my completely overactive, psychotic imagination.


At 8:22 AM, April 05, 2006, Blogger Jon said...

You should watch 'The Others'- that movie scared the shit out of me. I know you said you don't like horror movies, but I still have to suggest it ;-)

At 10:14 AM, April 05, 2006, Blogger Alex said...

Hehe... I saw it, and I clutched the arm of my unattractive friend David so many times that I gave him the wrong idea, and I had to spend the aftermath of the movie explaining how clutching people is a natural instinct when the music in a movie gets all scary and stuff, and NO, it doesn't mean I want to kiss him.

At 11:44 AM, April 06, 2006, Blogger Amichai said...

After film school scary movies stopped scarying me. The Ring, though (at least the American remake) did scare me only because the ending is far too remiscent of a recurring nightmere I had as a child.

The big bad wolf (from the disney cartoon) was coming at me through the television and there was nothing I could do to turn it off.

At 12:36 PM, April 06, 2006, Blogger Alex said...

oh, that's awful. I just always had bizarre nightmares about the tan blanket on my mother's bed turning into the planet from Dune and the sand worms attacking me. That movie traumatised me as a small child.

At 2:19 PM, April 10, 2006, Blogger Johnny Virgil said...

Oooooh, I remember that movie. You will think I'm a big jerk, but I will post this anyway.


At 9:55 PM, April 10, 2006, Blogger Alex said...

not a big jerk. That is pretty bloody amazing... though I'm very glad Jon did NOT do that. I think I might have castrated him. From the high pitched-ness of my screams alone.


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