I say shotgun, you say wedding…
–Panic! at the Disco
Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.
–Ben Kweller
Monthly Archives: September 2006
Alcohol. Yum.
Thomas knew he was drinking too much but could see no good reason to quit or slow down. Alcohol was an old and valued friend, most reliable, always ready to jog your elbow, recollecting hidden memories, specifically the pitch and swing of actual language, language as it was spoken…
Florette was sympathetic toward the bored or the lonely or the melancholic, but not toward drinking as a solution. He tried to explain to her that drinking usually increased loneliness or melancholy but was a specific against boredom because alcohol cast a cockeyed light on your surroundings. That which was dull became vivid. That which was static became a whirlwind. Grief became hilarity because the world was skewed.
–from Forgetfulness, by Ward Just.
Ruminating while rewatching Season 1 of Grey’s.
MEREDITH: Where were you when the ‘Challenger’ exploded?
INTERN #1: The what?
MEREDITH: The space shuttle. ‘Challenger.’
INTERN #1: Uh. I think I was in kindergarten.
MEREDITH: Exactly. No.
For years and years and years, my Dad and I had this ongoing conversation about how so far (at the time) my life didn’t have any of those big “where were you when…” moments. He had so many. JFK’s assassination. MLK’s assassination. Significant moments of Vietnam, in Space, etc.
And the Challenger? Not one of mine.
I remember where I was:
- When JFK Jr.’s plane went missing.
- When the second plane hit the World Trade Center/when they fell.
I think that’s it. For now. I don’t count “knowing where I was when Bush was re-elected” because although that will be much more damaging to my life in the long run, I prefer not to remember it.
Another favorite conversation:
MEREDITH: What’s your favorite 80s group?
INTERN #1: ‘Queen’.
MEREDITH: No.
INTERN #2: Twisted Sister.
MEREDITH: Uh!
INTERN #2: It’s not like there’s a right or wrong answer to that question.
MEREDITH (to herself): Oh yeah, ‘the GoGos’, ‘Duran Duran’, ‘The Eurthymics’ …
Have you ever heard anything as gorgeous as this?
Get yourself Joseph Arthur’s cover of “There Is a Light that Never Goes Out” (Smiths). Swoon.
And if you like melancholy girls as well as melancholy boys, go get Imelda de la Cruz “Noise, Noise, Noise” which is quite the lovely album. We have a mutual friend and I can’t thank him enough for giving me this. Love it.
Netflix: Notorious
Oh poor Ingrid Bergman, just waiting for stupid Cary Grant to admit he loves you. Just admit it, fool!!!
And although to some I think this probably feels like a complete ending, I was left a little unresolved. Does he get her to the hospital on time?
Are we meant to assume that? Carlos and I were both scared it may have been too late! Maybe off-screen she is dead!
We’re still not sure which kiss was supposed to be the amazing 360-pan shot (heard ’round the world!) and felt none of them were filmed in such a way as to deserve a plug in the DVD description!
Netflix*: Shadow of a Doubt.
1943 Hitchcock. Totally creepy incestuous-feeling uncle/niece relationship (both named Charlie). Did this not feel incestuous to people in 1943? Icky from almost moment one.
Other odd relationships as well, which seem to grow by leaps and bounds in a single instant. You walk with me in the town square for five seconds…30 minutes later (watching time. a few days movie time), you haven’t seen me since, but you love me. Oh, those were the days.
*Carlos’ queue, not mine.
He’s thinking about Antarctica, and Texas. I’m thinking about Life.
…we drive for fifteen minutes and see nothing but rock and brush. The brush looks dead; Ms. Ngyuen informs me that it comes alive in the spring. Like Baffin Island, I imagine, the living things live their whole lives in that narrow time when conditions are favorable, and all the rest of the time they wait.
–as thought by the title character of China Mountain Zhang by Maureen McHugh.
Big Screen: Conversations with Other Women.
Intelligent. Sexy. Verbose. Bittersweet. Go!
Recommendation.
Egyptian novelist Naguib Mahfouz died this week.
If you haven’t read it, I can personally highly recommend his Cairo trilogy: Palace Walk; Palace of Desire; and Sugar Street. I also liked Midaq Alley. Last year I read The Dreams, which was wonderful, although very, very different from his earlier works; a different kind of ‘thoughtful.’
Like many intelligent writers who don’t let politics or religion determine the content of their fiction, he has been reviled by Islamic Fundamentalists, blasted with blasphemy charges, and was even stabbed nearly to death by one some years ago (in the early 90s I believe).
Fucking Idiot Fundamentalists – they’re destructive in every country now aren’t they INCLUDING OUR OWN.