SLENDER IN THE GRASS
In 2006, my friend Alex was in the process of watching classic films for his film study class.
Over the three months that this took place, his family complained of his increasing levels of stress and lethargicness.
Near the end of his viewing, he procrastinated indefinitely and dropped out of the class.
He told me it was due to “unworkable condiitions” on his couch, which was less than seven feet away from his TV.
I asked him what he planned to do with the countless number of tapes and DVDs he had watched.
Being a film student myself, I hated to see all of those works go to waste.
And after some “coercing” he agreed to give them to me.
Under the condition that I never mention it to him again.
Soon after, Alex transferred to another school and I haven’t seen him since. At the time, I was too lazy to look through the movies, and eventually forgot about them.
A few days ago I found them boxed away in the back of my closet.
After five years and zero contact with Alex, I decided to look through them. What I found was unsettling.
I’m starting to regret ever getting involved in this.