VAGABOND (1985) is a film about a young woman who wanders through the French wine country one winter and ultimately freezes to death.
12/22/09 | Film

Vagabond

by Elizabeth Hildreth

1.

“Glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig glig.”

If I were an American, I would have said “brrrr.” But I’m not, so yeah: glig. Which sounds better than “brrr” does anyway. Like ice clinking against a glass tumbler. Or an empty two-liter–gligging and filling up with nearly frozen lake water.

2.

Speaking of.

It ain’t easy being frozen. In a drainage ditch on the side of the road. Or anywhere I would guess. It ain’t easy being a drifter or being easy. But I am and was and was . . .

3.

[Cut out]. Six months of a cube. Head down, clickety clackety. Ten billion paper glasses. A bunch of dick-offs, myself included. Then one day: too much. Or not enough.

4.

The road between freedom and loneliness:

Private.

No trespassing.

Beware of the dogs.

5.

Goats are good, if they’re in a book. So are big stretches of land. Theoretically, potatoes, too. The problem is doing stuff with them. It can be boring. Even pulling your pants down for a couple of equally unwashed strangers doesn’t make it all that much less so.

6.

I always wanted to be one of those girls who could give someone the “fuck you” sign without using my thumb to hold down the fingers surrounding my middle one. I always thought it looked more elegant that way, but I never could, so whatever, too late now. Even unelegantly, a point is being made. “Champagne on the road is better.”

7.

You would think: wine country = drunk. But, I mean, maids can be weird, not to mention, notoriously jealous. Even farm ones. I’m thinking, do you even SEE me? I don’t you. I’m just here, that’s the point. And granted, I like wine as much as the next guy and I’ve had some, but not enough to be like, “Oh, look at this filthy camper, I owe you everything everything everything.”

8.

Yes, my name is Mona, and, no, I’m not named for the Mona Lisa, don’t be retarded.

9.

I have been described as not-so-likeable, cold, distant, “nobody knows the true Mona” kind of thing. I haven’t thought all that much about it. He’s in my ear, “You could be the next Sasha Grey but smoking hash and sitting on a Tunisian.”

10.

It is the golden rule: If you need something, you tell somebody else they need it. If they say, “no, actually I don’t,” you physically abuse them.

11.

The End. Don’t be sad. You knew I was dead.