Nocturnalia I

One of the best things about not sleeping for a night is being able to walk out to the neighbourhood at daybreak and take a photo like this:

This is a stretch of Holland Village, just before seven in the morning. Devoid of the bustle that characterises its nights, it has an otherworldly beauty. It has a little light from men, and a little from nature.

An all-night movie marathon at a friend's place gave me the occasion to savour this sight. While it wasn't the most amazing of gatherings, it was nonetheless enjoyable. We watched Next Stop Wonderland, The Piano Teacher and This is Spinal Tap. In between we caught two shorts: Matrix Remounted, a side-splitting and surprisingly polished spoof of Matrix Reloaded that my friend made with his university coursemates; and Bat-Thumb, one of a long line of shorts by Steve Oedekerk using thumbs as puppets.

I'd seen Spinal Tap before (and even written a paper on it for a university module I took in my second year), yet it was still very funny. The pop culture geek in me enjoyed its numerous Lennon/Beatles references: the band-breaking girlfriend, explorations into mysticism, the name "Thamesmen" (Lennon's pre-Beatle band was the Quarrymen), the All You Need is Love send-up that is Listen to the Flower People...the list goes on.

The Piano Teacher was, on the other hand, a disturbing proposition. I honestly thought I'd heard it all as far as sexual practices are concerned, but this film certainly pushes the envelope. Or maybe it's just being made to see what I've heard about in such a painfully graphic way that is disturbing?

The best film of the evening for me, however, was the first. I remember watching Wonderland back in 1998 to salve the dreariness of my first army bookout. Emotionally subdued and tastefully philosophical, it struck a chord in me with its celebration of solitude. Back then, I was a wide-eyed but bitter misfit, constantly finding solace in poetry and in being alone with my thoughts. Watching the movie again tonight reminded me of this, and how far I've come since then. Yet, at the same time, it made me realise that the beauty of time spent with oneself is still something I treasure immensely despite my reduced need for it now.

Which is why my quiet walk through Holland Village this morning was especially meaningful.