I live in a permanent state of irony these days.
The building on the left used to be part of the UC Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archives on the Berkeley campus. They had a big movie theater in there and they specialized in screening foreign and artsy films for the edification of the students and film lovers everywhere.
One weekend in 2004 they had a big premiere of this hour-long film about me and my pal B.N. Duncan. Don’t get me wrong — it was probably the first and last showing of the film. But still it was a kick to actually be in a real movie in a real movie theater. I was tempted to actually go see the premiere — it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see my face blown up 20 feet tall on the silver screen. But — for a hideously self-conscious person like me — it would have been a nightmare to sit there in the movie theater while all the people in the audience were staring at my face. So I passed.
But anyways, every now and then I’ll walk by the building and I’ll think: “I was once in a movie that played in that venue a long time ago.”
Course nowadays when I walk by the building I’m just some faceless bum on the streets. But it reminds me of a time when it seemed like I was plugged into the woodworks of the city of Berkeley in all these different ways. I was a part of the cultural, artistic, intellectual and even academic life of the community.