Catching Up |
But honestly, who doesn't cry at the end of Act I of Sunday in the Park? People without tear ducts, that's who. This is a little late, but I want to recognize the mighty Kymm upon the ninth anniversary of starting her online journal. Obviously Kymm was doing this before practically anybody. Kymm's journal has made me giggle and made me weep and introduced me to all sorts of books and movies and music and theater, and what more can you want from a journal than that? And in real life, she is just so amazingly beautiful and well-spoken and funny and alive. I feel lucky to know Kymm even a little bit, and I am glad she started doing this practically an eon ago, because who's to say where the rest of us would be if she hadn't? I read The Final Solution, and I really liked it. I don't want to say too much about it, but whether or not you know going into it the thing that people talk about whether or not they knew going into it, it's just nice. In addition to being a good little mystery, it's about the melancholy and loneliness of growing old and kind of, at least to me, even a little bit about the meaning of life. And, I mean, it has bees in it. And I am a sucker for some good bee prose. I wanted to like Crash more, mostly because of my beloved Don Cheadle. It felt longer than it actually was. I really liked the actor who played the television director, and Thandie Newton was luminous as always even though she looks like she might snap in two at any moment from malnutrition. Ryan Phillippe needs to cease being hired. It was pretty heavy-handed at times and didn't blow me away like I think it wanted to, but I'm glad that it reinforced (if by use of anvil after anvil) the (not original but ever-interesting) idea that we're all both good and evil in varying degrees and that how to figure out how to balance those parts of ourselves in a world full of other complicated, fucked up people and uncontrollable situations is pretty much what it all boils down to a lot of the time. I hated Matt Dillon's character so much that it kind of sickened me for the entire movie, but that might have been the Starbursts and frozen Sprite. I don't like my Dallas Winston playing such an asshole. I had the distinct impression that he was not doing it or anything else for Johnny, and that is never satisfying. This is not remotely interesting, but I've started blaming my fatigue on the fact in part that I was not getting enough iron or protein in my diet, which I figured out once I actually sat down and did the math. I'm now on the quest to actually keep track of how much I consume of both, and hopefully it will give me a boost, along with cutting down on the weekly sugar intake and with the fucking gym, which I still hate, but to which I am determined to force myself to go if only because I know how ridiculous it is to be on a quest for better heath and feeling better without exercising and also without giving up the sweets on the conference table which God save the queen I am doing. I really wish I could magically transform into a person who loves exercising and becomes addicted to it much like I love watching television and am addicted to chocolate, but I don't see this happening any time soon. I will grit my teeth and go and thank my lucky stars every minute of every workout that some brilliant person invented the mp3 player, for without it, I would surely never step onto the elliptical and thus sink helplessly into obesity. There is now an official RENT film blog. I am just really not sure how I feel about this. It vaguely both nauseates and thrills me.
About this time in ...
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