*
(Note to anyone who's reading this: If you haven't read the previous chapters, please do so... or you may not understand what's going on here.)
October 2-19, 2006
I made a regular habit of visiting Vamp in his office once a week. After learning that he was the university's most definitive source of information on Andrei Tarkovsky films, I decided to direct all my Tarkovsky-related questions to him. The movies contained many deep philosophical themes, which left me with a lot of questions to ask. It was a wonder that Vamp never lost his patience with me, not even once.
For example, after pestering him with my questions about Stalker, I sent him an e-mail containing more questions. I felt a bit bad about sending such a long, cumbersome e-mail, but I was so curious, and he was the only person I could ask. He replied with answers to every question, and said it was no problem.
So I asked him some more.
Shortly afterwards, I sent him another long e-mail of Stalker questions, to which he replied in the same manner as the first one. Then I dropped by his office again, with even more questions. By that time, I was ready to be drop-kicked in the head, stabbed in the throat with his pen, or at the very least, reported to the security guards. He did none of those. Instead, he answered me with his usual patience, spinning a short but captivating lecture out of thin air.
Then after watching Solaris, a film that blended fascinating science-fiction with bittersweet drama, I wanted to hear Vamp's thoughts and comments about it. (Also, semester break was still going on, so I hadn't been to any philosophy classes in a long while. I was bored.) I made my way to his office and found him working at his computer, as usual.
"Are you busy?" I said, poking my head around the doorway.
"No," came his response. He gestured to the computer screen, where a game of Solitaire was in progress. "As you can see, I am playing a game. Come in."
I found myself reacting the same way I did a few weeks ago: wanting to go in, but unable to get my feet to move me through the doorway. I remained behind the doorframe and asked if he remembered Solaris.
He did remember, and he spent a little while educating me about the film's themes, particularly its references to a Pieter Brugel painting called Hunters in the Snow. "The characters in the movie are like the townspeople in the painting," he said. "They are absorbed in their own little world... too occupied to notice the important things going on around them. The snow is heavy, the hunters have been unsuccessful, there is no food for the village... but the townspeople don't care, because they don't know. They don't see the big picture, like Chris and the scientists in Solaris don't look beyond their own perceptions of the world. And like the winter in the painting, it is winter in the hearts of Chris and the scientists. They are cold... they don't know how to love, how to care about people." I got a Tarkovsky lecture and an art history lecture rolled into one. It was immensely enjoyable.
At the end of it, I thanked him and added, "You're nice." What I really would have liked to say was, "Thank you for not strangling me and kicking me out your window."
October 26, 2006
I found out that my classmate and good buddy, Black Sunday (not his real name), was a fellow Tarkovsky enthusiast. So I invited him to come with me to pester Vamp-- because, after all, best friends share good things with each other, right?
As always, I crept down the corridor stealthily, and I told Black Sunday to do the same, approaching the office from behind. I didn't want to disturb Vamp with the sound of our footsteps; also, I wanted to check whether or not he was busy, so we could simply leave if he looked occupied.
He must have heard us coming, though, despite our best efforts to walk silently. He was already looking out the doorway when I poked my head around to sneak a peek.
"Hi," I said.
"Hello. How are--"
He trailed off, because he saw me disappear for a moment and reappear with Black Sunday in tow.
"Hi!" said Black Sunday, beaming brightly. (Despite the nickname I've used, he's a very amiable and sociable person with a perpetual smile on his face.) He introduced himself and shook hands with Vamp, who now looked rather baffled. "Fox tells me you're the university's foremost expert on Tarkovsky! It's an honor to meet you!"
The guys exchanged pleasantries, then Vamp beckoned us into his office and happily launched into a mini-lecture. This time, I went in and sat on the edge of a nearby desk. Having a friend with me got rid of my nervousness.
We listened as Vamp spoke about Tarkovsky's films, the symbolism in some of their memorable scenes, and the movie Blow-Up and its connection to philosophy. He also spoke a little about his work, such as his paper that got published in 2005. When we pressed him with questions about certain, hard-to-understand scenes in Stalker, he referred us to his brother. "He knows many things about Tarkovsky. You can e-mail him with your questions." He wrote his brother's e-mail address on a slip of paper and handed it to Black Sunday.
A grin spread across my face. Make contact with Vamp's twin? Heck yeah! I leaped at the chance. Well, not literally, or Vamp would have wondered why I was jumping around his office.
Towards the end, he said that he was unsure whether he would get an extension on his scholarship in 2007. If he didn't, he would have to leave the university in March and return to Romania. I felt stricken when he said that, as if someone had driven an iron spike through my chest. The thought of not having Vamp around, of going without his marvelous lessons and stories, was almost physically painful.
I began stammering my objections. "But... but... but........." I found myself choking on the words. I lowered my gaze to the floor, swallowed and tried again. "But..." I said, raising my head and summoning just enough strength to look him in the eye, "I'm going to MISS you!"
For a while, he said nothing. I couldn't read the look on his face. It looked faintly like amusement, though he could have also been thinking that I was quite strange.
"It's all right," he finally said. "I might get an extension, but it will be difficult. The university mostly wants scientists, or mathematicians, or doctors... not philosophers. If I have to go, then at least I have my job at the university in Romania. It is a good job... I have been there for the past seven years. I have to go back every year, anyway, to keep my job."
I felt my jaw clench, biting back words that I wanted to say but didn't have the guts to voice aloud: "Screw your other job! Stay here! This school needs people like you!" I protested silently. Then, pleading: "Don't go. Just don't go. Stay here, forever and ever. Please."
I never got the words out of my mouth, so I tried to channel them with my eyes. It didn't work, of course. I stared at the ground again and listened as Vamp switched the topic to something philosophy-related.
Black Sunday and I soon had to leave, and Vamp had some matters to tend to, so we said our goodbyes. On our way down the corridor, I turned to Black Sunday and said, "I told you he was awesome!" To which he replied, "He is! Totally! Now I know why you keep hanging around here! That lecture was amazing!" He poured forth a continuous stream of glowing praise for Vamp's compelling manner and passionate lecture style, right up until we reached the bus stop and hopped onto a bus to the train station.
"We can't let the school turn him down for an extension," I said. "He's just too cool to let go!"
"I wholeheartedly agree," Black Sunday replied. "We'll fight for him! We'll start a petition and gather up other people who like him!"
"Or we can use our legendary ninja skills, and threaten the university's academic board with instant death if they refuse him," I said, grinning.
Black Sunday grinned back. "That's an even better idea! It's a good way to land ourselves in trouble, though. But then, if it's for an awesome guy like Vamp, who cares?" We laughed together in agreement.
Another fan for Vamp. Yay.
-end of part 5-
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