I know I'm late to the party, but I just finished watching Inception, a Christopher Nolan film about dreams, dreams within dreams, hacking dreams, and then hacking the hackers of those dreams within dreams of those who are dreaming.
Or maybe not.
Maybe I'm not finished watching it yet. Or maybe I'm not late to the party after all. Maybe the party has yet to begin, because I am not yet there. My mind is the party, and I'm the guest, but I'm actually watching myself from behind the dresser there, which is actually parked in a van down by the river.
I'm lost, but actually maybe that's where I used to be the last time I remember that I had no longer known where I was, which is why I keep a pocket-sized golden stapler whose stapling capacity only I know locked within the safety deposit box that I clandestinely hid in the jacket pocket of the three-piece suit in the closet behind the staircase that is now crumbling into the palm of my hand, for just such an occasion.
All that to say, it was easily my favorite film of 2010 that I waited until 2011 to watch. And maybe I still am.