The Student Affairs

He kicks his feet up on the radiator of his apartment and balances himself on a chair. It's a hot summer day and the window is open beside him with a gentle breeze blowing in. The screen had been removed because as annoying as bugs are, the freedom to stick your head out of the window is worth it. This time, he lazily keeps one hand out, letting the breeze blow away the smoke from the joint in between his fingers. Every now and then he takes a puff, but otherwise lets the smokey haze drift around the room. He barely tries to keep it all outside the window.

Across from him sits his friend, who also takes turns with the joint. The embers flicker off and away just barely into the nearby ashtray. Hot little flecks burn and smoulder. That thin smoke rises steadily as it dances and spreads around.

It's a hot summer day and there's little to do in these lazy afternoons. The TV is on and is playing some movie from the 90s where a grainy texture can still be noticed. Along with the TV, some music is also being played. Some ambient droll his friend likes to listen to whether they get high or not. To him it sounded like a melody of old computers trying to boot up. However whether it actually had a melody was debatable. It sounded experimental.

It's a lot at once yet they're fine with it. As long as the music volume isn't too loud they can still see and hear what's going on the TV and comment on the retro fashion.

"You see those shoulder pads? Never see that anymore."

"I wish suits still had those. They can look kinda nice. They look good on her."

The woman on the screen was in a scene looking pristine. This was that 90s New York City investment firm kinda vibe. The kind where the there's tall grey towers above busy city streets brimming with traffic. The kind of vibe where people wore suits and carried bulky black electronics like early cellphones.

"This is a satire, right?"

"I'm not totally sure. Such a corporate lifestyle is a bit alien to me. I wouldn't be able to tell you how it's really like there. But of course, this is just a movie. It's got to have that aesthetic to convince us of what we're seeing. There's got to be something satirical about that."

"I'm not totally sure. Wouldn't you want to consider the auteurship here? There's a lot being said that goes deeper than the style choices may present."

His friends seemed to know a lot about certain topics. He was a lover of history of all kinds. From products to world events, he could tell you about the history of the spatula or the post-industrial effects in developing countries. Of course, whether this was all true was never fact checked. But he said it so believably it was worth keeping in your pocket for one day.

"Shoulder pads may have been an earlier product of the late 1800s, but I think it wasn't until the 1930s or 40s did they get popularized by women like Rochas and Schiaparelli."

"Who the fuck are they?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure."

His friend liked to read Wikipedia a lot, even during the film they were watching or the music they were listening to.

Knowledge is just there. Why not look into it?

It's Wikipedia. Don't you know you can't trust it all?

But I don't trust it all. I just know it all.

Returning to the film, plot-wise, they are a bit lost. The scenes had shifted and had become less comedic. His friend made sure to note of the directorial decisions that were critical in presenting the scene.

"I want you to think about why this director would put this here. Look at that mis-en-scene. This is deliberate. This is the director trying to convey a message here."

"Like what?"

"The main character is amiss and longing for something. Look at the colours of the trees dominating the background. And in the foreground, everyone looks so tiny..."

He takes another drag before continuing.

"...and we can consider that the car blocking part of the shot here is bit of an interruption. It's playing with our expectations and introducing an interesting contrast. In fact, if you seen his other films, there's a clear-"

It turns into a ramble and he checks out. His friend is unaware and continues, just ready to regurgitate those hours of wiki content out of his head. God, you should see him when's he's messaging someone. Capable of typing at a pace of 175 words per minute, he would often send an essay as a reply if he got heated on a topic.

But it doesn't matter this time. Today didn't matter.

Someone else out there could be doing something. Maybe something good or terrible or unlucky. Maybe it's their best day ever, maybe it's their worst. For these two, it's just another day where they sit and wait for something to happen. Or maybe for someone to come visit.

"When is she supposed to get here?"

"Well, she said she's still class for a bit. Didn't feel like skipping this time."

"I guess it's good we have someone who can tell else what we missed."

"Let me text her we're here just chilling. Maybe we can get food later."

"I'd be down. I'm sorta done with this film."

"But you chose this? You kept raving about the director's other films."

The friend scoffs.

"I'll be honest, I was expecting a bit more from this. While I don't expect it to be as good as his previous films, it's a bit more tame than I expected. I'm feeling like it's just so popular and so well known it's become less interesting. Like we know what to expect and we're just waiting to see what we get. In fact, there's probably-"

The friend rambles on again. He takes another drag as he pretends to listen and watches the film.