Ok, not the real one. But tonight a few of us finally got our acts together and went to the cheap Monday night movie theater and watched Christian Bale run around beat people up dressed as a giant creepy bat thing… good times.
Seriously, it was good. Many people on the internets have written many things about it, so I will stop at this and say that I liked it. And I’m glad I saw it in the theater instead of buying the pirated version from my next-door neighbor. (One of the perks (?) of favela living is that options like that are available… Including having Will Smith wake you up…)
A friend dropped me off at the entrance to my favela fairly late – almost midnight – and as I walked up the alley between all the closed fruit and vegetable stands that now are full of men and women and boys and girls sleeping and smoking and sniffing and drinking, I was thinking… As I walked over the traintracks, past the guy on a motorcycle carrying his friend with a stolen car radio, I was thinking. As I passed the bars and jukeboxes and karaoke machines, and the cars parked with people buying and selling and using, I kept thinking. As I passed the church having an outdoor service next to the teenagers on motorcycles with machineguns, and greeted a neighbor who walked by on his way home from a soccer game, I was thinking… and grateful. Grateful that I live in this place – that fear is not present (at least not most of the time – which, if you ask the wonderful Liz, is because I am a perfectionist and a One on the Enneagram personality, and instead of getting afraid, I just get angry…).
And somehow mixing up in the menagerie of images and ideas and smells thoughts of fear and batman, of justice and grace, of security and wisdom, of risk and danger, of life… and I am now going to sit up on the roof and watch the stars for a while before bed… and ponder…