The Museum of the Moving Image's recent Tom Cruise retrospective ended this afternoon, with a grand total of twenty-two different movies being screened at least once, with some playing twice. I'd decided I'd see everything at least once - I didn't need to sit through the theatrical cuts of The Outsiders or Legend a second time - and managed it with very little trouble and fuss. Mostly just what's inherent in the subways, like lines being down for a weekend and not finding out until I'm in the station and had to find an alternate route that, thankfully, still took me to a station within six blocks of the museum.

It was like going to summer camp, honestly. A regular thing to keep me busy in the long, hot days. Something to look forward to. Shared experiences with voices that gradually grew more and more familiar and faces I came to recognize. And now that it's over, we've gone our separate ways. We might bump into each other again - as dense a city as it is, it's not huge, and the community of repertory movie screening enthusiasts is small enough it's more than likely to happen eventually. Even if we don't, it was fun while it lasted and I'll look back on it fondly.

None of the movies were a chore. All of them were a pleasure to see on the screen, some more than others - for example, Eyes Wide Shut is something I appreciate more than I enjoy. Plenty of them were overwhelming in the best ways, whether it was the immense, immersive sound or the rich colors of the film prints or simply letting myself get taken away for a little while in a really good story. It was just as much about having the experience of the big screen viewing as it was the movies themselves - not quite a compulsion, not exactly a fixation. Hearts that are true, as Dave Barry described them, and a line in the essay kept echoing throughout this summer: "If you ask her why, it shows you could never understand."

All right, that one and another: "And the hell with what people say." Tom Cruise is a good actor, a sharp producer, someone I can personally say has a lovely smile, and he doesn't need anyone defending him. At least, not in the context of internet snark, cheap jokes, flippant comments. He's not my friend. He's someone I'm glad to share the planet with for a little while because his art's good, and I find it inspiring and meaningful. I don't need more than that.

While I don't need more than that, sharing it for a little while made for a wonderful time.

Worth mentioning are:

This one guy who brought up Alan Moore's Superman work and wasn't prepared for me to bring up Top Ten and Tom Strong,

That same guy who argued that after a long week at work you'd want to unwind and see some light fair and as such might not go see a Tarkovsky or 8 1/2 and wasn't prepared for me to say I'd recently seen 8 1/2 and found it a buoyant and uplifting piece on the creative spirit,

This one guy who agreed Streets of Fire is a movie that needs to be seen at night,

This one couple who hung back a few minutes to talk about how Jerry Maguire picks up where other romcoms leave off and how these days there aren't enough movies in the "people trying to become better" and "good people trying not to be lonely" genres,

This one projectionist who answered a couple questions I had about who owns individual prints and lends them out for screenings,

The print of Magnolia that keeps playing around NYC that I've now seen six different times and can recognize the flickers because a print's an object that changes over time and seeing those flickers reminded me of the nature of film as something that's almost a living creature that breathes with you in the dark,

The projectionist who had to re-adjust Cocktail a bit to get it into focus which was a moment that added to the viewing experience in a good way,

The curtains that closed over the screen and pulled back to make sure we knew we were in for a good time,

The MOMI staff members who were always thoughtful and patient and were able to give me a couple extra copies of the various movie programs and got to know me on sight by the end of July,

The MOMI itself for putting it on,

Everyone who took their tickets home as mementos and souvenirs,

Everyone who crowed somewhere about seeing thirty-five and seventy millimeter prints because even bad movies look fabulous that way and good movies are an absolute joy to behold,

Everyone who'd seen the older works like Risky Business and Born on the Fourth of July and Top Gun when they'd first played in theaters decades ago and were happy to see on a big screen and be lifted up and pushed under again,

Everyone who brought kids to one or both of the Top Gun double features because I know those kids had a fantastic time,

Everyone who laughed,

Everyone who cried,

Everyone who sucked in a breath and held it and let it out as one because we were all feeling the exact same thing in that specific moment,

Everyone who clapped at the end credits,

Everyone who hollered at the director or the cinematographer or the title card whether that came early or late in the individual movie,

Everyone who had firm opinions about which movie theaters in the five boroughs are worth the time and energy it takes to visit them,

Everyone who hung around a while between movies or after the day's programming was over whether it was at the doors or in the courtyard or on the subway platform and let the conversation continue just a few minutes more,

Everyone who I already knew beforehand or recognized after a few screenings and looked forward to seeing because of the pleasure of seeing a movie in shared company,

Everyone who legged it out to Queens to see a beloved movie on the big screen for the first time or possibly the fortieth, traveling by car, train, bus, commercial airline, commuter light rail, crossing state lines and time zones, who brought their own food, who shared their popcorn, who was happy to exchange a few words in the theater or in line waiting for the bathroom as a way to make the waiting easier or just for the pleasure of exchanging a few words about the recently shared experience, everyone who wanted to have a good time at the movies, everyone who spent this last summer together with me like I haven't done since I was a kid and helped make it something worth remembering.

About thirty one hours, all told, between water shut-off and hearing the pipes fill back up. Sputtering, struggling, deeply welcome. I made use of other buildings' bathrooms during the days and last night I managed a two-bucket scrub that did a decent job of getting my skin cleaned off. My hair, not so much, which is one of the bigger reasons I'm really looking forward to a shower tonight.

Last night, I realized I was getting ready to wash the dishes on reflex, and ended up feeling a little lost for a few minutes. Now they're all cleaned and the water I'd saved and didn't drink is still going to get drunk, but it's gone into the kettle so I don't have to draw more out of the taps - something that seems appropriate right now. Not getting "new" water, but using water I'd already gathered. Because in part, I know right now I can get more if I need it. But I've already gotten this, so I don't need to protect it. Just use it.

Starting tomorrow morning, my building won't have water for at least 48 hours. This isn't a surprise; I found out about it a couple weeks ago. They're replacing the water tank, which is one of the better reasons for that kind of disruption, and I'm fairly certain it's said to be at least 48 to keep people from getting impatient and disruptive around 2PM on Friday. I've been told Saturday morning at the latest, and I can live with that. Unpleasantly, but I can live with it. I'm filling up water bottles for drinking, a bucket for the toilet, and setting my biggest bowl in the sink for flatware. Figuring out where local bathrooms are and how to at least wipe myself down in my apartment a couple times.

In planning it out, the biggest things seem to be wiping myself down, keeping my hands clean, and brushing my teeth. The usual routines can't be followed and it's making me deeply aware of how I follow them, down to each small step. I'd recommend giving it a shot. Just to be that conscious of it all.

Walking down the stairs to the subway platform, a group of what I assume are tourists are standing right at the bottom, talking and not moving. The train's pulling in and I don't have time to think: I tap my knuckles against the back of the one right in front of me like I'm knocking on a door.

Amazingly, it works perfectly.

What also worked perfectly was twice tonight, getting into the station and to the platform within a minute of the train pulling in, where I walked down or walked up and it's arriving just as I am. It's now something where I have to stop saying it never happens and go to saying it almost never happens. Because it's now happened at least once.