The Company You Keep

I’m sorting through my hard copy inbox (it’s a vintage wooden inbox) as opposed to my email inbox. Here’s a ticket to The Company You Keep, the latest Robert Redford film. I went and saw it with Steve on Saturday, May 11, 2013 at 6:20pm in Manuka, Canberra. (The day of Dawn’s wedding to Peter. Peter II.)

I kept the ticket because I wanted to write about the film. It’s nearly a month ago, now. Dawn is on her honeymoon. What did I want to say? I could throw the ticket in the bin and relieve myself of yet another of these endless “duties”.

Oh, that’s right. The plastic surgery. It actually accentuated the oldness of Robert Redford and Julie Christie. They both moved stiffly, like old people, but they had these propped-up faces. Very distracting. Earlier in the week, I’d seen Amour, about two old people played by frankly old actors who had never done anything with their faces. Their faces were soft and real.

Then, of course, I’m someone with plastic of my own. My whole front is now made of silicone (see more about this here). It’s a hard pair of lumps; it’s like I’m always wearing a firm bra. It’s not comfortable. I can never forget it. But I wasn’t quite up to the “honesty” of just two angry stripes across my chest.

Anyway, this will do. Now I can put the movie ticket in the bin. I had a lot of thoughts in the wake of The Company You Keep and Amour but let’s just let them walk on by.

2 thoughts on “The Company You Keep

  1. Anne Powles

    I have been going through my ” hard copy inbox” ( thanks for that term) much more often as I get older and particularly right now as I help an even older relative, who is an out of control collector.

    It is quite a carthartic feeling to re-live one’s many thoughts and reasons for the archiving and then again for the ultimate acceptance of the real life trashing isn’t it? Anne

  2. Tracy Post author

    Yes. It feels so good to get things from the inbox into to the wastepaper bin positioned just below it. I’ve got a thick bedrock, though. I get down to that point and pick up a piece of paper that can’t be thrown out but it can’t be dealt with, either. Every now and then – every couple of years – I manage to dig down through this layer and see wood. The bottom of the inbox.

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