Meaning that, at least in certain ways, I live in exactly the right place.
A friend and I went and saw Catching Fire at Cinerama yesterday. It had been almost exactly a month since I was last there, long enough for the costumes in the cases to turn over. Oh, Adama’s fanciest dress. Sure, 7 of 9’s incredibly tiny catsuit. Good good.
And then, across the lobby, I saw it, and I knew it without even being within sight of its plaque.
So yeah, I’m cool with nerds having money. When I imagine being stupid wealthy, the first thing I dream about is travel and relative freedom. The second is preservation – buying up a couple favorite blocks in Capitol Hill and having them be – well, not preserved in amber, but having the liberty to evolve in a way uninfluenced by development.
I like Cinerama.* And I like that we do get the benefit of this ubernerd’s incredibly deep collection of… stuff.
*Fun fact: when I first drove into Seattle nine years and two or three weeks ago, I stayed near the Cinerama. I drove by it and was a little freaked out, because it looked, at first glance, like Boston’s porno theater, and I had a shivering moment of not knowing what the hell kind of neighborhood I had booked myself into. I spent the first night hiding in the Days Inn, eating pizza I’d had delivered and contemplating my fate while watching cable.