Recently when I watched one of the recent "Jason Bourne" films on broadcast television, as documented here in this blog, I began composing a blog post in my mind because of one particular scene.
About two seconds later, I dismissed the notion from my mind. Because that scene was set in Europe. That could have been anywhere.
But nope. The very next scene clearly established the setting was Amsterdam.
The blog post I began to compose was about how that building that spanned their equivalent of what seemed to be an interstate highway here in the USA is where I stopped for breakfast.
The only time I ever recall consciously traveling to Amsterdam.
I was there on Microsoft business. At some point years ago I posted here in this blog an image of my passport that was stamped in Amsterdam The Netherlands. I blogged about the date.
I remembered then also that was the date of a Microsoft SQL Server catastrophe and so that was one more reason I didn't feel like going into more detail.
I remember that all so clearly. I had to stay in Amersterdam over the weekend and I was incredibly bored. I recall that I was wearing that brown leather "bomber jacket" I liked so much and that wrote about here, as an unusual extravagant purchase (about $400 in the year 2002) and that I wore around inside Microsoft. So anyway, I remember that because the jacket was not water-proofed and I didn't want to walk around outside in the Amsterdam rain, as the clerk in the Bellevue mall told me the leather might spot unless I took it to a dry cleaner.
I thought about going back and finding that specific dialog for that scene but the hell with it.
Who the hell am I trying to convince of anything? Who the hell needs to be convinced I know what I'm talking about?
I still can't understand if I am sensing the future or if this is just some kind of feedback loop.
And I try. I try so hard. You have no idea of the difficulty each and every day.
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1994 United States television miniseries "The Stand" DVD video:
01:38:38 Disc 1
Larry Underwood: You know something? Ha! I've seen this guy before. In Times Square, just before everything went to hell. Screaming about monsters. Now, he said they were coming.
Nadine Cross: He was right.
http://www.e-reading.org.ua/bookreader.php/80261/King_-_The_Stand.html
Stephen King
The Stand - The Complete & Uncut Edition
Chapter 27
Larry didn’t want to sit there anymore. He got up and began to walk aimlessly down toward the mall with its large bandshell. He had heard the monster-shouter some fifteen minutes ago, very far away, but now the only sound in the park seemed to be his own heels clicking on the cement and the twitter of the birds. Birds apparently didn’t catch the flu. Good for them.
When he neared the bandshell, he saw that a woman was sitting on one of the benches in front of it. She was maybe fifty, but had taken great pains to look younger. She was dressed in expensive-looking gray-green slacks and a silk off-the-shoulder peasant blouse… except, Larry thought, as far as he knew, peasants can’t afford silk. She looked around at the sound of. Larry’s footsteps. She had a pill in one hand and tossed it casually into her mouth like a peanut.
“Hi,” Larry said. Her face was calm, her eyes blue. Sharp intelligence gleamed in them. She was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and her pocketbook was trimmed with something that certainly looked like mink. There were four rings on her fingers: a wedding band, two diamonds, and a cat’s-eye emerald.
“Uh, I’m not dangerous,” he said. It was a ridiculous thing to say, he supposed, but she looked like she might be wearing about $20,000 on her fingers. Of course, they might be fakes, but she didn’t look like a woman who would have much use for paste and zircons.
“No,” she said, “you don’t look dangerous. You’re not sick, either.” Her voice rose a little on the last word, making her statement into a polite half-question. She wasn’t as calm as she looked at first glance; there was a little tic working on the side of her neck, and behind the lively intelligence in the blue eyes was the same dull shock that Larry had seen in his own eyes this morning as he shaved.
“No, I don’t think I am. Are you?”
“Not at all. Did you know you have an ice cream wrapper on your shoe?”
He looked down and saw that he did. It made him blush because he suspected that she would have informed him that his fly was open in that same tone. He stood on one leg and tried to pull it off.
“You look like a stork,” she said. “Sit down and try it. My name is Rita Blakemoor.”
“Pleased to know you. I’m Larry Underwood.”
He sat down. She offered her hand and he shook it lightly, his fingers pressing against her rings. Then he gingerly removed the ice cream wrapper from his shoe and dropped it primly into a can beside the bench that said IT’S YOUR PARK SO KEEP IT CLEAN! It struck him funny, the whole operation. He threw his head back and laughed. It was the first real laugh since the day he had come home to find his mother lying on the floor of her apartment, and he was enormously relieved to find that the good feel of laughing hadn’t changed. It rose from your belly and escaped from between your teeth in the same jolly go-to-hell way.
Rita Blakemoor was smiling both at him and with him, and he was struck again by her casual yet elegant handsomeness. She looked like a woman from an Irwin Shaw novel. Nightwork, maybe, or the one they had made for TV when he was just a kid.
“When I heard you coming, I almost hid,” she said. “I thought you were probably the man with the broken glasses and the queer philosophy.”
“The monster-shouter?”
“Is that what you call him or what he calls himself?”
“What I call him.”
“Very apt,” she said, opening her mink-trimmed (maybe) bag and taking out a package of menthol cigarettes. “He reminds me of an insane Diogenes.”
“Yeah, just lookin for an honest monster,” Larry said, and laughed again.
She lit her cigarette and chuffed out smoke.
“He’s not sick, either,” Larry said. “But most of the others are.”
“The doorman at my building seems very well,” Rita said. “He’s still on duty. I tipped him five dollars when I came out this morning. I don’t know if I tipped him for being very well or for being on duty. What do you think?”
“I really don’t know you well enough to say.”
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http://www.chakoteya.net/StarTrek/58.htm
The Paradise Syndrome [ Star Trek: The Original Series ]
Stardate: 4842.6
Original Airdate: Oct 4, 1968
[Obelisk chamber]
KIRK [OC]: (dazed and confused) Where am I? What place is this? What are these? (phaser and communicator) I feel should know. They're familiar and yet unfamiliar. How did I get here? Who am I? Try to remember.
(He finds a flight of stairs and walks up, out into the sunshine)
[Obelisk]
(Two young women are approaching, carrying baskets of food.)
MIRAMANEE: Wait.
(They kneel at the sight of Kirk. Then one gets up and walks up the steps to him, and puts his hand to her forehead.)
KIRK: Who are you?
MIRAMANEE: We are your people. We've been waiting for you to come to us.
http://www.tv.com/shows/the-last-ship/pilot-phase-six-3032567/
tv.com
The Last Ship Season 1 Episode 1
Pilot - Phase Six
Aired Sunday 9:00 PM Jun 22, 2014 on TNT
AIRED: 6/22/14
http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-last-ship-2014&episode=s01e01
Springfield! Springfield!
The Last Ship (2014)
Pilot: Phase Six
Commander Mike Slattery - executive officer: I'm going to go check on the, uh, yeah.
Dr. Rachel Scott: Those men are here to support me. You don't send them to bring me in.
Commander Tom Chandler - commanding officer: Those men are sailors in the US Navy and report directly to me.
Dr. Rachel Scott: I say when I am done and ready. My work is vital here, and I have finally found what I'm looking for!
Commander Tom Chandler - commanding officer: Doctor! First of all, thanks for checking in. Think this is the first time you said more than three words to me since we left Norfolk.
Dr. Rachel Scott: Well, I am sorry that I haven't had you over for tea.
Commander Tom Chandler - commanding officer: You know, your attitude was mildly charming back in June in Virginia, but up here, at 50 below, when none of us have talked to our families in four months, not so charming.
Dr. Rachel Scott: Yeah, well, charm wasn't exactly my prio-
Commander Tom Chandler - commanding officer: Still talking.
http://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=colony-2016&episode=s01e01
Springfield! Springfield!
Colony
Pilot
Why don't you give us a minute, sweetie?
http://www.e-reading.org.ua/bookreader.php/80261/King_-_The_Stand.html
Stephen King
The Stand - The Complete & Uncut Edition
Chapter 27
“You were looking at my rings. Would you like one?”
“Huh? No!” He began to blush again.
“As a banker, my husband believed in diamonds. He believed in them the way the Baptists believe in Revelations. I have a great many diamonds, and they are all insured. We not only owned a piece of the rock, my Harry and I, I sometimes believed we held a lien on the whole goddam thing. But if someone should want my diamonds, I would hand them over. After all, they’re only rocks again, aren’t they?”
“I guess that’s right.”
“Of course,” she said, and the tic on the side of her neck jumped again. “And if a stick-up man wanted them, I’d not only hand them over, I would give him the address of Cartier’s. Their selection of rocks is much better than my own.”
“What are you going to do now?” Larry asked her.
“What would you suggest?”
“I just don’t know,” Larry said, and sighed.
“My answer exactly.”
“You know something? I saw a guy this morning who said he was going out to Yankee Stadium and je… and masturbate on home plate.” He could feel himself blushing again.
“What an awful walk for him,” she said. “Why didn’t you suggest something closer?” She sighed, and the sigh turned into a shudder. She opened her purse, took out a bottle of pills, and popped a gel capsule into her mouth.
“What’s that?” Larry asked.
“Vitamin E,” she said with a glittering, false smile. The tic in her neck jumped once or twice and then stopped. She became serene again.
“There’s nobody in the bars,” Larry said suddenly. “I went into Pat’s on Forty-third and it was totally empty. They have that great big mahogany bar and I went behind it and poured myself a water glass full of Johnnie Walker. Then I didn’t even want to be there. So I left it sitting on the bar and got out.”
They sighed together, like a chorus.
“You’re very pleasant to be with,” she said. “I like you very much. And it’s wonderful that you’re not crazy.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blakemoor.” He was surprised and pleased.
“Rita. I’m Rita.”
- posted by H.V.O.M - Kerry Wayne Burgess 11:28 PM Pacific Time Spokane Valley Washington USA Saturday 13 February 2016
