Who's my Rushmore?

The nice thing about having 500 different HBO channels is that every now and again there's actually a movie on that you can enjoy.
I re-watched Rushmore. The movie is completely summed up for me in the last 30 seconds. Max Fischer has just put on a well-received play, and no everyone is at a party to celebrate. He calls up for the DJ to ramp up the beat a bit to get some proper dancing music going. The first few strums of the guitar, the look of satisfaction despite it all on Max's face as he nods his face in time. I'd watch any movie if I can get an ending like that. Pitch perfect song, great timing, great acting.
I took a rather long way home from work this afternoon. I had no particular place to go, so I put in the mix CD I made last week and just drove. I wound up in Lambertville and thought that I might take a walk over the bridge to pay a visit to the river. I thought the better of it and just drove on. The river will still be there tomorrow.
I think there is something slightly off in that town. I can't quite explain what it is, but I'm not the only one who has remarked on a general sense of weirdness there. Maybe it's just a bit too still and the shadows are slightly too deep. Like it's ready to suck up your emotions into its walls.
Anyway, it's weird. I didn't stop; I just drove home. I don't think I'll return at least until it's warm.