Participants:
| Scene Title | Individuals, United |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After a viewing of Scott Pilgrim, Magnes and Sable discuss music, love and living situations. |
| Date | September 21, 2010 |
Outside a Movie Theater
After nearly two hours of complete big screen awesomeness, Magnes and Sable leave the theatre with what's left of their buckets of popcorn and large drinks. He's wearing his Plumtree t-shirt and jeans, able to shut his brain off for a bit as they watched Scott Pilgrim. They're just leaving the doors, his place not too far away as they begin their walk, then he looks down at her and grins. "So how'd you like it? Bet you didn't believe me when I said a geek movie was awesome."
Sable has, in fact, seen this film before. Quinn (of course) insisted in dragging her and Elaine along, presumably during one of the periods of Magnes' on again, off again convalescence. But as someone who spent many years unable to get into a movie theater without sneaking in, breaking in, or being taken by a special lady friend, Sable views films as something of a luxury just in and of themselves. Repeated viewings are, to her, no problem.
Her problem is something different. "What fuckin' troubles me, boy," Sable says, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her cargo pants, "is what this means f'r rock 'n' roll, y' know? Like… sure, decent fuckin' musicianship 'n' I dig that it's being, like, true t' somethin'… but where d' y' go with it? Like, what comes next, y' know?" she shrugs, then smirks, "main chick's fine, though. Ain't no denying that. Eyes like Indian diamonds."
"I don't think anything comes after it, but I really hope it influences new movies. I get sick of dance movies, wouldn't it be amazing if they made a bunch of movies with rock offs and ridiculousness?" Magnes asks as pieces of popcorn float up into his mouth. "You wanna know something I bet you wouldn't expect? Beck wrote all the music, except the Clash at Demonhead music."
"Metric," Sable chimes in, "Quinn said 't was Metric did th' stuff with th' fake good band." She cracks her neck. "I'd be fine with there bein' more rock in movies. Like, more movies 'bout rock. But it's so… indie, y' know? I feel, like…" she makes a face, "old. Like my time's up already. It's so fuckin'… I dunno… clever. 'n' sorta bourgie." She shrugs, "I dunno, man, I'm sorry. I think I'm just bein' a crazy bitch lately. All this shit," she gives Magnes a rueful smile, "which ain't nothin' next t' what yer dealin' with, bein' all fucked up upstairs. So, sorry f'r actin' a pity case."
"Your time's not up, indie hipster stuff is just what's in now. Better than emo and scene stuff being what's in, isn't it? Your time's not up, your time hasn't even started." Magnes finishes his drink, then tosses the cup into a nearby trash bin they pass by. He reaches over to take her hand, moving to lift it up. "Our time hasn't started yet. When the band gets big, we'll me what's in, what we want in will be it. We'll set the trends, girls will cut their hair short and wear yellow contacts to be like you, guys will start skating and reading comics to be like me."
Sable gives Magnes a look that is trying to be skeptical, but one that is betrayed by the smile that creeps onto her lips. "We tried t' speak b'tween lines 'f oration, y' could only repeat what we told you…" she says, with the tone of one reciting scripture, "I'm hopin' f'r more, boy. I'm hopin' we c'n make everyone like everyone. Not like… everyone is like everyone else, but every one is every one. Y' know… And I c'n see that this is me, and I will be, y'll all see… I'm th' one. Dig?"
"Make everyone an individual?" Magnes asks as he continues holding her hand while his apartment is visible about a block or two away. "You know, me, you, and Quinn, we're all so different, we're like an entirely new type of band. Most bands are all rockers, or all techies, but we're like… united individuality."
Sable gives Magnes' hand a small squeeze. "Just that," she says, nodding, "that ain't to say what we are ain't bad in parts. Ain't t' say that changin', learnin' from example, ain't worth somethin'. But we all got a different path up the mountain, 'n' when we turn back t' look down th' slope, we all see a different sorta shape we've made. 'n' yer dead right there - it's our fuckin' challenge and our gift, bein' so diverse, we three…" she sniffs, "just our curse is that we ain't got no fuckin' drummer."
"We'll have a drummer, if I wasn't so wrapped up in my head issues, we might have had one by now." Magnes shakes his head with a little smile, a thought suddenly crossing his mind. "I was talking to Quinn the other day. She said that if you were into guys, it'd probably be you living in my apartment right now, instead of Elaine. I thought it was an interesting thought… like of another reality."
Sable arches her brow, though the elevation isn't quite at 'insulting'. "If I w's int' guys," Sable counters, "I'd be in some fuckin' trailer park with five scary-as-shit kids, 'n' a belly full 'f th' next. If I w's real lucky, I wouldn't have any 'f th' fathers stickin' 'round. Mebbe just showin' up once 'n' a while, drunk, t' knock me 'round a bit. Or try," she smiles, "they'd need some luck 'f their own, t' land one on me."
"I think the universe would've found a way to get us together, somehow. But maybe that's why you like girls? The universe couldn't let two people as awesome as us have a kid." Magnes laughs, clearly joking as he releases her hand and rubs the top of her head. "I had a good time today, it was nice to get my mind off things and try to go outside."
"Boy, I'm gonna say this just once 'cause it's an argument that y'll appreciate and see th' truth 'f so full 'n' entire that I won't never have t' say it 'gain,' Sable says, ducking out from under his ruffle, though only after he's messed up her hair a bit - she could have dodged, he knows, so he also knows that the duck is not a real avoidance, but an answer, part of the rapport, "I like girls f'r th' same reason you like girls. Chicks are fuckin' hot."
"Yeah, that's true enough. Still not sure how girls do it with eachother, but that's true. I bought Elaine some lingerie. I never knew the appeal until… well… until she wore it." Magnes grins pretty widely, looking down at his feet with a little mischivious gaze. "She's thinking about moving, but she doesn't know for sure. She wants to know what it's like to be on her own. I really hope she doesn't, I like living with her."
"Jesus, boy, y' wanna know how it's done? Watch some fuckin' porn!" Sable exclaims, "and I don't mean porn f'r straights. That shit ain't lez, that's 'girl on girl', whole different thing. Watch lez porn, meaning porn f'r lezzes. Y' c'n tell 'cause th' girls don't look 'n' sound so damn fake. It ain't so complicated. Y' gotta clear yer fuckin' head. Jesus, boys. Like if there ain't a dick involved, it ain't real fuckin'. You use yer tongue or not, eh?" she reaches up and raps her knuckles against Magnes' skull.
And not to suggest this topic is not serious, but as the conversation moves to Elaine moving… the tone shifts. Sable quirks her lips, lapsing into momentary quiet. Thinking.
"That c'n go two ways, typical-like," Sable says, "which ain't exactly much help, knowin' but… sometimes space is just space. I mean, I usually lived with my gals, but that's 'cause I had nowhere t' live. Plus I don't take up much room, eh?" she smirks, but it doesn't last, "you trust she loves y'? Aw hell… if y' don't, it's too late anyhow. So do. Trust her. Mebbe it'll be good, eh? Y' c'n date her proper, like. I mean, y'all lived t'gether from the start, eh?"
"Yeah, we lived together from the start. And I do trust that she lives me, it's just… I like waking up and seeing her red hair there, and always knowing she'll be there eventually. To me, Elaine is home." Magnes contemplates her previous question for a moment, as if this requires some hard thought. Maybe he doesn't want to say it lewdly? "Yeah, I uh, use my tongue. Delilah taught me all about that."
Sable's smile goes momentarily feline at the mention of Delilah, eyes crinkling with fondness. "Good boy," she says, nodding, "blessed be our redheads, eh?" she gives a huff, scratching the back of her neck, "ain't no way 'round it, boy. It's gonna suck. But y' gotta let 'er do what she needs t' do. Unnerstand, she's with y' by choice, but she lived with y' by, like, necessity. Had nowhere else t' go 'cept back t' that motherfucker. So you let her go… she has th' chance sometime t' move in with y' not 'cause she has t', but because she wants t'."
"Yeah, I'm trying to let her do what she wants. And she says she might not even do it, so, I'm just waiting and seeing." Magnes starts to munch on his popcorn again, taking large handfulls. "Let's go home and have a little jam session."
"All y' c'n do sometimes," Sable says, nodding soberly, "love 'er as she needs y' t' love 'er. Everythin' else is just rolls 'f th' dice." She aims a punch at his arm, but the blow is light, not even marginally painful. "Sounds good, boy. Work on our song, eh? That's what we need! A gig," she flashes a grin, "rock hard 'nough in front 'f a real audience… she'll beg y' t' take 'er home."