Stream of consciousness
Jul. 24th, 2008 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eve_prime(I have a reputation for remembering odd details for a very long time.)
In the interests of replacing McArthur Court, aka "Mac Court," aka "The Pit," the UO has purchased and demolished Williams Bakery, which used to make quite a lot of very plain white bread, and which we visited on a grade school field trip, riding through the mountains on a schoolbus for an hour. I remember the big vats of dough. More recently, just in the past week or so, they demolished the 7-11 on the corner and a property that used to be a combination of a gas station and the "other" video store owned by B's former boss, a reputedly tax-evading Nigerian. Before that, though, the site was the "other" theatre owned by Oakway Cinema, for which I sold concessions when I was, I guess, 17. I substituted a few times at this theatre, too, and the projectionist was Michael Lamont, who later owned the Bijou, and who was then still named Robert. I knew him from the summer I worked in UO student government.
I park near there when I go to the office, so I keep walking past the site thinking about the movies I saw there. I know I saw Holy Grail there at least once, but mostly they showed foreign movies. I saw Mogliamante, which I really liked (Wifemistress, with Marcello Mastroianni and Laura Antonelli), and Sesso Matto (quite forgettable, How Funny Can Sex Be?, which for some reason I associate with a discussion of 18-wheelers with DWJ, and sitting around a parking lot at Cottage Grove Lake). I also saw No Time for Breakfast, with Annie Girardot, about which I remember nothing at all except that the main character, a woman with a masculine haircut, gets out of the tub covered with suds and proceeds to put on her clothes without rinsing off the soap. Huh. Anyway, I always figured the French name was Pas de Temps pour le Petit Dejourner, which seemed kind of silly, but I see from the IMDb that it is actually Docteur Françoise Gailland. And at this point my reminiscences dissolve into vague impressions as I try to remember what else I might have seen there.
In the interests of replacing McArthur Court, aka "Mac Court," aka "The Pit," the UO has purchased and demolished Williams Bakery, which used to make quite a lot of very plain white bread, and which we visited on a grade school field trip, riding through the mountains on a schoolbus for an hour. I remember the big vats of dough. More recently, just in the past week or so, they demolished the 7-11 on the corner and a property that used to be a combination of a gas station and the "other" video store owned by B's former boss, a reputedly tax-evading Nigerian. Before that, though, the site was the "other" theatre owned by Oakway Cinema, for which I sold concessions when I was, I guess, 17. I substituted a few times at this theatre, too, and the projectionist was Michael Lamont, who later owned the Bijou, and who was then still named Robert. I knew him from the summer I worked in UO student government.
I park near there when I go to the office, so I keep walking past the site thinking about the movies I saw there. I know I saw Holy Grail there at least once, but mostly they showed foreign movies. I saw Mogliamante, which I really liked (Wifemistress, with Marcello Mastroianni and Laura Antonelli), and Sesso Matto (quite forgettable, How Funny Can Sex Be?, which for some reason I associate with a discussion of 18-wheelers with DWJ, and sitting around a parking lot at Cottage Grove Lake). I also saw No Time for Breakfast, with Annie Girardot, about which I remember nothing at all except that the main character, a woman with a masculine haircut, gets out of the tub covered with suds and proceeds to put on her clothes without rinsing off the soap. Huh. Anyway, I always figured the French name was Pas de Temps pour le Petit Dejourner, which seemed kind of silly, but I see from the IMDb that it is actually Docteur Françoise Gailland. And at this point my reminiscences dissolve into vague impressions as I try to remember what else I might have seen there.