Uch

Malaise

In bed the other night, I watched the movie "Miranda" with Christina Ricci and a slick John Hurt. Although generally unremarkable, I actually stayed awake for the whole thing. (No, Showtime did not precede the film with either an "N" or, my favorite, "SSC".) Ricci plays a bit of a femme fatale con-woman type (Hurt is her svengali) who hooks up with a wallflower English librarian guy. She plays the cliched mysterious dominant woman role to his meek/enraptured puppy dog. She comes and goes. They have adventures. It is sort of quirky. Sort of noirish. And not realistic at all. She never would have fallen for him. She would've eaten him for lunch. Used him for her benefit. Fucked him. Hid out with him. And left him for good at the first opportunity. And she definitely wouldn't have used some cheeseball dialogue if she wanted a piece (approximated):

Her: "I don't want sex."
Him: "That's o.k. I like to know a girl before I sleep with her."
Her: "Know a girl? Like how?"
Him: "As in a 'what's your favorite color?' kind of way."

They fall asleep on the couch.

She awakens after a time and looks over at him.

Her: "My favorite color is blue."

-CUT TO-

His bare ass bouncing up & down between her thighs, followed by his head buried under her skirt. "Do you want me to stop?" Between moans: "No, no . . . keep going, don't stop."

Nope. This woman would have simply turned to him and said: "Fuck me. Now. And make it good." And he would've complied. Done anything she wanted. And slept in the wet spot or on the floor.

Now why did I remember all this and type it out? No fucking clue. Just sort-of remembered it. Actually there was a question he asked her "the morning after" that's stuck with me and was the original catalyst for this post (paraphrasing):

"Do you ever feel that we are fated to do what we do, but, looking back at it, we would never do those things if we had the choice?"

I don't know why this line has stuck with me and caused me to actually reflect. I don't in fact believe in fate or destiny. Maybe I just believe in regret. That's the problem with memory. While you may learn from the past and try not to repeat it, ultimately, the past foundationally defines who, where and what you are. You are your past. And that can't be changed.

Chicago

My flight leaves in 2 1/2 hours. I really don't have much to say. Not exactly looking forward to the brief change of scenery. Oh, well.

On a (somewhat) less significant note, I offer my condolences to fans of the English national soccer team. I know melancholy. And a 6-5 penalty shot loss to Euro 2004 host Portugal is certainly a heartbreaker.

Before Sunset

Most of the time I truly feel as if I am merely biding time in this life. Allowing the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months & years to roll by, numbly going through the motions. Neither happy nor unhappy. Just empty.

This film exacerbated all of this. I hated this film for how it made me feel. Yet I loved it because it made me feel. Never have I been as miserable as I was at the end of this film. Yet, I was simultaneously thrilled. Never have I been as entranced by what was occurring on screen. Yet, my mind was racing with introspection.

A 90-minute film documenting a conversation should not have this effect. It is not the power of the movie itself. Or of the screenplay. Or the actors. The resonance is all circumstantial and somewhat metaphysical. And it certainly is not universal. Hell, ego wants me to believe it is purely idiosyncratic. Jessie & Celine are both around my age. And they were my age 9 years ago. In the interim, they have lived surfacely successful, yet unfulfilled lives. Their connection, both in '94 and now, illustrates their deficiencies. And helps to highlight my own.

There is no magic answer. And no pithy revelation forthcoming. I guess I'm just lonely.

Quickies (no wet spot here)

----sac is apparently very tall and is channeling a reclusive New England author. I always figured him for a Stradlater clone.

----Please support this effort at RNC counter-programming. I’ll be the one in NYC that week seeking an anecdote to top my father’s tear-gassing at the ’68 DNC. (Ironically, my stepfather was a not-so-effective member of the Illinois National Guard that was doing the gassing.)

----Tonight’s the U.S. Premiere of “Before Sunset” at the LA Film Fest. Although the film is probably a bit too intimate for the Cinerama Dome, I’m excited to see what Linklater, Delpy and Hawke have done with the characters. Full report tomorrow.

----Larry McMurtry waxes elegantly on Clinton’s “My Life” in the Times: “And somehow, vaguely, it all has to do with sex - not necessarily sex performed, just sex in the world's head. I doubt myself that Bill Clinton's sex life has been all that different from anybody else's: pastures of plenty, pastures of less than plenty, pastures he should get out of immediately, and not a few acres of scorched earth.”

Has it really been that long?

Time flies when you're having fun. Or actually working. Or moving into a new apartment. Or having semi-regular sex. Or going to screenings. Or drinking way too much. Or hanging with family. Or going to concerts. Or recovering from hangovers. Or hitting on semi-celebs.

Yes, I'll be the first to admit it. I've been a bad blogger as of late. But no more. I'm back with a new found fury. If BC can spit out 900 pages, I can throw down a measly 150 words-a-day.

Anyway, Comcast has finally (more-or-less) rectified the home internet situation, which will surely induce the resumption of (more-or-less) daily missives.

And for those who asked: no, I did not get a chance to chat with my favorite "Garden State" co-star. According to the director, she had family obligations to attend to in New York and couldn't make the trip. Thanks to those helpful people at Page Six, I know that she attended Bill's publication soiree last night. And despite Bill's history with Jewish women in their early-20's, I have no fear because his affections are clearly falling elsewhere these days.

I promise I'm NOT a stalker

Almost forgot to wish someone a happy 23rd birthday.

No, I'm not dead

Yes, I acutally have some work to do.
And yes, these fuckers still haven't set up my internet.
Will return to form. Soon. Promise.

Which one of these is not like the others?

Linds, darling, listen to your publicist. Photos with Whitney & Bobby do not a marketable image promote.

Where have I been (Memorial Day Weekend Edition)?

1. Old duplex.
2. New apartment.
3. Pavilions.
4. Larchmont Village.
5. Sketchy after-hours club.
6. Passed out on my couch.
7. Passed out on my bed.
8. Admiring my view.
9. Lost among 48 boxes currently inhabiting the MJ Annex (aka my new spare bedroom)
10. Entertaining.
11. Work.
12. Costco.

Don't worry. All shall return to normal forthwith.

And yes, it is true. I just found out this morning about Julia Roberts's twins and that the Lakers & Pistons closed out their respective series.