After getting up kind of late today (had trouble sleeping, somehow), some guy on my MSN Messenger (new version, yay) list asked me to come to the basketball court near my house to play some 'ball. I took a shower and went on my way.
When I arrived, the place was filled with people that I know. They were playing soccer, and it didn't look like they were planning on leaving anytime soon. I decided to head to another basketball court; one that is close to the train station, and where they never play soccer. On my way (most of which was done walking), I saw a lot of familiar faces�from school and elsewhere.
When I arrived at the court, there were some other guys I know, shooting some hoops. One of them came up to me and said that some friends of mine had been there and that they had just left to attend some basketball tournament at yet another court. I decided to head that way, too.
While I approached the third court I had seen that day without having taken one shot, I saw I knew everybody on the court, and on the side. I decided to not join in a game right away because I've plagued by injuries, and hung around with the people on the side, dribbling with my ball.
Then this pretty girl walked by... I recognized her face—it was a girl that I know from high school. I hadn't seen her in years. I got her attention, made clear who I was (she said she knew, but I kind of doubt that), and we talked about the usual stuff (who we went to class to, what we're doing at the scene, etc).
She asked what I'm doing nowdays. I told her about basketball, depression, and the art academy. She asked what direction, I said graphic design and typography. She asked whether I do something with it
in my free time, I said I happen to have this new potential client that wants a website for his movie. From this point, the conversation went eerie:
She:
What's the name of the director?Me:
Tim van Miert.She:
Naw... don't know him. Wait, is he the brother of Wouter?Me:
Yeah! How do you know?She:
He [Wouter] used to work at Escamp—that's where I know him from.Me:
Yeah! I made a movie with Tim there in the past! A movie about violence.She:
Was the cover all bloody?Me:
I don't know—I haven't seen it, but there's shooting in it, and a knife.She:
Yeah, I've seen it.
I stare blank in disbelief.
Me:
No way!She:
Yeah, I saw it at [I forgot where she saw it (or didn't hear it, or didn't care)], and read it was made by people from Escamp, so I decided to bring it to the clubhouse.
Another blank stare in even more disbelief.
Me:
You... you mean you have it? I was just talking to Tim [who I hadn't seen for years before that moment, either] at a party a few days ago about how I want to see it, and he said it's the only movie he no longer has—it got lost somehow.She:
Yeah, I gave it to [some name]. I think we still have it.
At this point I think to myself; This is really friggin' weird... Cool, but weird.
She:
You know what? Do you want my number? You can pass by tomorrow; you can pick it up and we'll have a drink.
That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I delete some guy from the addressbook in my cellular phone (it's always full), and add her name and number. She went to do something with her colleagues or something, and got back to my basketball buddies.
We did stick around for a couple of hours, and I did play a little myself, but it wasn't the most exciting basketball I've experienced so far (</understatement>), as this picture Enrique took clearly illustrates:
On our way home, I bumped into various people I know (as if it hadn't been enough). Before I actually went home, I went to hy home court to shoot some hoops for a couple of minutes. When I finally got home, our national soccer team was down by one... and it went downhill from there. After this sad display, Enrique and I decided to play some 'ball of our own again, even though it was late, dark, and raining.
Enrique went home rather quickly because of his knee injury. I then trained a local kid that always plays with us and happend to be there; showing him some dribbles, fakes, and passes (dispite the fact it had become later, darker, and it rained much harder). He picked up pretty well, and I'll think he'll surpise some people with his new dekes the upcoming days.
What a weird day... What a weird week, for that matter.
I hadn't seen either the director of the film or this pretty girl from high school for four years or so. Now I run into both in the same week, on very different locations, and somehow manage to discuse the same (rather trivial) thing. As if that isn't weird enough, the second (the girl) actually answers the question that were raised by the first (the director). It's as if I carry a discussion with me, and continue it with anyone I happen to run in to.
It is, as if life is a movie... and a very unlikely one at that.
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