I wrote this is in my journal years ago, and it is possible it has founds its way here too. This passage of text is quoted from an small edition book I produced called Pages from my Notebooks.
I was born when she kissed me; I died when she left me; I lived a few weeks while she loved me.
Dixon Steele In a Lonely Place
I remember the first time we spent any time together. It started at school that afternoon. There were some Nicholas Ray films playing in town, and she asked if I was still planning on going (about a week before we started a conversation about film – a shared enthusiasm of ours – and I told her about Nicholas Ray and In a Lonely Place).
Yeah – of course. I said
Are you going this afternoon or tonight?
Tonight. I teach this afternoon. How about you?
I don’t know. I was thinking this afternoon.
Our conversation ended there, and I hurried off to class.
She wasn’t there when I first arrived at the theater. I sat by myself just a few rows from the front. I kept looking back over my shoulder to see if she would come. At that point, my attraction to her was simple; I was eager for her company.
She arrived shortly before the films began, after about a 10 minute wait. I could see her looking around, and I knew she was looking for me. We made eye contact and she came over.
Can I sit with you?
She wore a peach colored overcoat, and her hair was cut short, coming to the bottom of her Jaw line. Her cheeks were round and soft, and just a little red from the cold outside.
We made simple conversations about the films and school. I asked her for some chap stick too.
Together we sat through a double-header, In a Lonely Place and Knock on Any Door, the two films Bogart made with Ray. We left together, catching the same train home. Conversation was simple and easy – questions about families and names and hometowns – but it came without any effort, naturally and inevitable.
I mean that line is amazing, I was born when she kissed, I died when she left me, lived a few weeks while she loved me.