Monday, March 30, 2015

Quickie Review - The Theory Of Everything

James Marsh manages to take one of the few living enigmas and turns his story into a scandalous TV movie. What worked for Man on Wire, doesn't work in the traditional film medium, because we want to be dazzled. Spending 30-40 minutes showing us Hawking's brilliance and human side, all literally and figuratively comes crashing to a halt and the movie then becomes nothing more than an episode of Mad Men without the drinking. There is no doubt Eddie Redmayne has joined a long list of method actors who transformed himself into a character, but it can't hide the fact that he doesn't add much to the last hour of the film, other than to show that he's a man. The final few scenes are filled with every gimmick possible to hide the fact this based on a book that calls him out for his indiscretions, while showing the real power and why we have his mind today, was and always will be Jane's doing.

The movie is really about Jane Hawking and that isn't a bad thing. While I doubt that the real Mrs. H was as strikingly beautiful and unflinching in her devotion, Felicity Jones turns in a career changing performance. Is it Oscar worthy? Probably, but only because her transformation is actually more challenging and quite more painful to watch. The reason is, it's selfless to start, but the realization she was wrong, which probably wasn't present in the book, is the power of the movie. Jones handles it with such care, you're never not impressed. We all know the story, but her humble attitude and her desire for credit will hit home for anyone who has administered care without praise or reward. In the end, the movie fails in telling the story we want to hear, but maybe the human side, warts and all, is what sells tickets. Like the world in Hawking's mind, it's foreign to me.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Free Writing - Take 79

When things dawn on you, they are usually positive things. A glimmer of light in a dark day or maybe a minor epiphany. Recently a lot has dawned on me and I am not sure if they are positive things. I used to laugh at how everyone I've ever had a relationship with, was still a friend. As recently as a year ago, I used to talk to everyone I'd ever dated after the age of 21. Today, it dawned on me that I speak to one and the reality is, it's been years since we've actually spoken. It's also dawned on my that when I moved, I spoke or texted weekly to about 20 people. Within a month or two that had dwindled to eight. Now it's about three. This past month, I made 35 minutes worth of calls and had 200 texts. I used to make 1500-2000 per month. Sure I use other means of social media, but there's still that feeling that I don't belong in the place I called home for almost 30 years, which at times become hard to take, for no other reason than I don't feel at home where I am. I feel like I left a place where everyone's life revolved around comparing themselves to others, to a place where nobody gives a shit about anyone else, but themselves. Ithaca, for all it's liberal glory, is the most self centered place in the universe. Nobody cares what your favorite place to eat is, because they want what they want. The sad part is I'm basing this only on people that have already been deemed good people. The reality is, aside from two people I've known my entire life and a hippie next door neighbor (who isn't only the salt of the earth, he has the salt of the earth stuck in his bare feet), I don't like anyone I've met. Sure, I can get along with fucking Manson, because that's who I am. I can pretend to be anyone's best friend, but it's a town of spoiled brat hipsters, trying so hard to fit in with the entitled-for-no-reason grey hairs, that I can't even successfully google search a sports bar, without it taking me 30 miles away. Maybe 30 miles away is grand, but I'm not spending the time or energy to visit a town known for it's NASCAR track, just to have a beer and a plate of nachos that isn't served by a barista whose father could buy and sell my old town, but wants me to listen to their short story about their struggle to be seen. It's dawned on me that as cynical I get, I miss the two or three people who talk no shit, take no shit and who will call me out on my shit. There are four people in the world that do this and I miss them. Sadly, ones in Florida, one is married with problems of her own and the last is enjoying a rebirth of sorts. The last one, is the last one. The one I can't lean on, because they were my crutch, but they are also the one who makes me dawn on things I don't want to. Like my mother and the toast that didn't happen on election day, Hanukkah, her birthday and I'm sure on Mother's Day. These were never afterthoughts back "home" and yet they are now. Which makes me wonder where the hell have I landed?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Review - Birdman or (Why is this so difficult for everyone?)

As I make my way through the best film nominees on DVD, I came to Birdman, the actual winner. I went into this with mixed emotions, as I love Stone and Watts, fine Galifinakis incredibly likable, miss Norton's power and have always felt rather negatively about Keaton. Ironically, the tone of the film plays into Keaton's every man demeanor. As I would find out, the actors chosen for each role, in many ways mirrored their fictional counterparts. This works and it doesn't.

As I repeat always, I don't read or watch reviews before seeing a movie, but afterwards, I try to pour over as many as I can. I also like to read about what might have inspired the director, which in this case was a Raymond Carver short story. The movie plays out, much like the story, which is somewhat confusing, because an adaptation of the play is what the movie centers on. The first thing I noticed when reading reviews and especially interviews, is that the director, the highly talented Alejandro Inarritu, has an ego that is second to none. He hates superheroes, he seems to pity plays and has some disdain for just how hard it is to stay relevant in today's world. If he wasn't in Hollywood, we'd all let out a loud "Awwww." He is though and Keaton is Beetlejuice and he tried so hard in Burton's nightmare attempt at Batman. Inarritu claims Birdman's disappearance in 1992 had nothing to do with Keaton's last big role as the "Caped Crusader" in 1992, but we all know better.

The movie pokes fun at so many Hollywood cliches and reeks of Altman's Short Cuts and The Player and this is where I don't get the confusion. The film is nothing, but in-joke after in-joke about the life. In backgrounds we see posters for Superman, a billboard with Tom Hanks on Broadway and quotes from Shakespeare by a bum, right after a critic displays her power. There are heated exchanges where both parties are right and in being correct, both prove wrong. This is life, nothing complex about it. The movie uses a film gimmick, which I must admit, I didn't even notice after the first 25 minutes. Those 25 were headache inducing. Then of course, there is the drumbeat soundtrack which is so out of place and so noticeable you almost have to smile when you see the drummer casually performing in the middle of a janitor's closet or stage prop room. Yes, the movie is that tacky. I refrain from using the term cliche, because I've been told I'm overusing it.

What amazes me in reading all the reviews, interviews and press clippings is that nobody has mention Death of a Salesman, which this film resembles in that it is a tragedy. Sure, it's dark comedy, but it's also a tragedy in the Greek sense. Another omission by these experts is the most obvious symbolism and that is the Phoenix, rising from the ashes. If you've seen it, it might make one scene in particular make a whole lot of sense. 

The new standard is ambiguous endings, which allow the viewer to draw their own conclusion, but what the director fails to acknowledge in his disdain for action movies and social media popularity, is that the average person isn't capable. In an era of people telling everyone who doesn't like something they simply don't understand it, Inarritu has played into that same thing he hates, promoting it all the way to an Oscar win. The irony is that the virtue of ignorance is the very thing which made this film a success, because those who see through it's "complexities," realize it's all been done before and better, but not with the obvious clues pointing us to what we as a culture embrace...familiarity. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Quickie Review - Berberian Sound Studio (Is this the greatest in-joke ever?)

Berberian Sound Studio is being lauded by critics as a masterpiece. An homage to the horror thrillers of the 70's and 80's known as Giallo. It has quietly become the one film you're not allowed to say anything negative about, because it was inspired by the genre, you're not allowed to dislike and keep your credibility in good standing. Sounds a little too Williamsburg/coffee shop/college radio for you? Well it is.

Here's the great thing. It's not gaillo or anything even close. It's also not really a good movie, in any way. The acting is shoddy, the script is poor and the lighting is abysmal. Here's the main problem with these factors...this might simply be what the writer/director Peter Strickland thinks are the main components of giallo. Here is where I differ from all the glowing reviews and high praise; I think he knew exactly what he was doing.  I think he was poking fun at the whole ridiculous praise of the giallo genre. What we know as giallo is simply Harlequin whodunits, with beautiful women, often naked, being chased, tortured and killed. They are the quintessential b-movies we all love. Argento, Fulci, Bava, etc all play into this genre and the results are almost always the same. Very boring, poorly lit and even more poorly acted films with absolutely incredible atmospheric sound, which makes for a good romp. Somewhere along the line the Gen-X gang decided that these movies were pure art. I guess it makes sense that the same people who hem and haw over a soup can, would think Tenebre is high art.

So where does Berberian Sound Studio go wrong? Giallo, for all it's silliness and admitted charm, was simple and there was a beginning, middle and end. You left feeling satisfied that pretty much everyone was disposed of or revealed and you walked away happy. This film leaves you with such an ambiguous ending, it makes the viewer feel as if the director's personal tug of war between homage and mockery finally came to a standstill. Reviewers will cite numerous similar films, but none of them attempted to distract us from a lack of plot, which this was one does. What I find so interesting in professional reviews is each writer's ability to draw from films that in no way hold a connection to this film. Classics like Psycho, Peeping Tom and Blow Out are so precise in their vision, whereas this one is purposely and from the director's own admission, more surreal.  Surreal only works, when we have something mentally tangible to draw from, but this fails in that. Gimmicks galore might be an homage to some, but I kept getting this creeping suspicion that everyone involved in this film truly enjoyed knowing that this film would be taken literally. I guess my disdain proves that I simply didn't get it, which in today's world of Internet trolls, is as successful as actually being a good movie.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Free Writing - Take 78

I thought about writing an in depth entry about this, but might need a little more research or at the very least have a handful more examples to point to, but it seems to me there is a trend among the people I know. The people who exude happiness publicly are all into some sort of fitness craze. Whether it be the fad of the month of the older varieties, all of these people are nothing but smiles and sunshine. What I've also noticed about this group is their one common trait. Money. Whether through hard work, inheritance or sheer dumb luck, they all have disposable income. This also means they are granted time. Free time. What I have gathered, mostly from direct interactions is that all of these people were at one time financially strapped or at the very least, struggling to have what they personally needed to feel "one" with the world. But here's where it gets tricky. When they stop talking about their exercise routine, their jobs or whatever it is they do to pass the time, they change. When they speak of their families and relationships, it's not what they say, it's the body language. Their taught postures seem to disappear like a punctured balloon and while the words stay positive, the message is clearly the opposite of what they are saying. I've also noticed that these people tend to have children and family members who are suffering, in some way, constantly. Which leads me to the basis for this little babble. Why is it that the parents I know, who are without a doubt (not simply my opinion, but lauded by friends), out of shape? Not fat or obese necessarily, but toned would not be used to describe them. Now, I fully admit, I'm making a huge generalization, because one of the best parents I've ever know in a workout fiend, but I'd say 80-90% of the best parents and by far the ones with the happiest children, are soft. Maybe well rounded isn't just a term for someone's interests, but an exemplary picture of the complete package. The one trait that almost all of these people have is meals and quiet connections. While others are attending a class for meditation, these parents seem to find this quiet time while with their children. It may be reading together, while snuggled on the couch or bed. It may be a movie together, sharing a bowl of popcorn. It may simply be a walk and a chat, where as it's very hard to connect to your five year old while spinning or doing yoga. The people I've known over the years, who have the healthiest mental and physical (not getting illnesses, chronic problems) makeup, are the ones who don't appear to the eye to be fit. I know what people will say, but I am broken physically, but I refuse to let myself get sick. I haven't had a cold in almost three years and what do I do when I feel something coming on? Math or history or science. I read whatever I can about something I don't know about. Then I try and share it with someone else. I try and communicate and then I eat something, not healthy, but something that makes me happy to eat. Sweets don't make me happy, because I understand the mental aspect of the ups and downs of sugar. Here's the funny thing. This blog which many find to be a waste of time, might be an elixir of sorts, because since, I got back to writing almost every day, I've not had so much as a sniffle. In the end, what is health. Being loved for your aura and your abs might make you feel good, but I don't see how it can compare to a family dinner, followed by some serious couch time. Why are we alive anyway? To look good or to make others feel good? I know that in forty-four years, making someone else laugh even once made me feel better than any single physical accomplishment I've attained. I've won many games, races, events in my day, but none compare to a dinner where someone says "thanks for being here." Sorry if aesthetically that doesn't please you.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Snowy Sunday Morning In Late March

The sun must have risen somewhere. I can see out the window, but despite being the third official day of Spring, it is snowing; very hard.  I don't mind the snow, but it seems like the entire world does and that has a horrible effect on me in many ways. Why are summer people so open to suggestion, whether it be a place to go for a drink or a meal, but in the winter, these people stick to such a rigid routine? They gaze out the window, seeing the pinkish grey sky atop the white ground and their minds become numb. Even when given the opportunity of making a choice, their minds shrivel up, like a frightened armadillo and they go with what is safe. Obviously, I'm being cryptic, because I don't want to offend. How many times can the same friend write about the weather? How often can I read about the cold? Why do they think we care, if they don't even care? Why is it I see pictures of the journey to work from some in the winter, every single day, but never in the summer when the sights are much more worthy of a photo? Why is it, that my summer was filled with glorious meals, great conversation and smiling faces, but this winter is breaded meat or the same fish, repeatedly ruining my appreciation for it's very existence. Conversations, each night, starting and ending with the same subjects, but I don't think anyone notices but me. I'm different, I get it, but I don't understand why my life has to be ruined, because others don't appreciate this season of cold. The same way I enjoy old films, I view winter. The best memories are with cold in the air and snow on the ground and the longer it sticks around, the longer I get to savior those memories. Meanwhile, others look forward to some mystical weather, where they stare blankly skyward, while soaking up the rays and nobody realizes how boring they've become.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Eight Thoughts For Spring (Almost All Positive)

I know for some it is mason jars, books, sneakers or jewelry, but for me it is my Netflix queue. Between a typed out list and movies I've added recently, not to mention all the one's available instantly, I have about 370 movies on my current list. This is the reason why I'll never sleep and why I'll never delve into Breaking Bad or any other elongated drama.

In other news, I'm thinking we need to rethink the thought process behind random acts of kindness. Not the act, but some of you don't understand what the worn random means. If it's part of your job...not random. If it's donating to a charity...not random. If you go above and beyond, while doing something you had already planned on doing...not random. I'm not saying they aren't well done with the greatest of intentions and thoughtfulness, they simply aren't random. Seriously, think about the last time you did something purely altruistic without an inkling of planning.

By this time next week, three of my friends will have babies. While all of them seem to have traveled much different paths and all are in different stages of their lives, they are all around the same age, all beautiful women and I have no doubt, they will be outstanding mothers. I wish them all the best and a lifetime of health and happiness.

Maybe it's my usual cynicism, but there was something special about the snowfall on the first day of spring. It's like waiting til Christmas morning to rip open your presents, but having to wait for your grandparents to arrive, so they can see your face when you open them.

I heard it in a movie recently and it reminded me of one of my favorite sayings: Festina Lente

People think they know what others go through, but the reality is, it's easier to believe the lies than to ask for the truth. I'm thankful for the people who say hello, but that number is less and less as each month goes by. It didn't bother me at first, but then someone wrote me and put the nothingness of things in perspective and how the rare few who get it are the outcasts. Somehow I'm fine with that, but would love to be convinced I'm wrong.

Have you ever forgotten a certain smell, because it became something you took for granted, much like the person it reminded you of, but you'd give anything to smell it again? It's odd, but some people, regardless of the distance or the time spent apart, bring us comfort and the only thing that separates us from that is time. Even the smell, without their presence, would suffice. I guess in many ways, that's what me miss so much about Spring.

I have a few friend with family members who are sick. I don't pray, but I've spent a little time thinking about them. I also have a friend who is going through something and I take some time to think about them every single day. I don't light candles or look to the heavens, but I spend a little time thinking about how much brighter my world is and I assume, no I know, if mine is made better, then the ones they are closest too must be blinded by their presence. Corny? I'm not very good with compliments, but I'm sincere with them.








Friday, March 20, 2015

Quickie Review - Fading Gigolo

Yes, I know, you haven't seen it, but you know you don't like it. It's not realistic having John Turturro as a sex symbol. How are we to believe people who look like Sharon Stone and Sofia Vergara will pay to have sex. What's with all the Jewish stuff? Wait, Woody Allen is in it? No way.

These are all the reasons I've read for why this movie is terrible. What they missed was a cute story about connections, a funny story about friendship and an ode to NYC's quirkiness. Oh yeah and an award worthy performance by Vanessa Paradis, who has officially twice as many stellar performances in the past three years, as her ex-husband, Johnny Depp, has in the past decade (or more).

If you're a true New Yorker, you'll get the egg cream reference and see the proper way to make it, the Brooklyn/Queens bond, but only Manhattan for business and baseball in the park....sort if. You'll see Jewish humor, which some might find offensive, but I loved and you'll witness in a roundabout way, acceptance. What makes NY the best, most accepting place in the world.

But most off all, you'll see one of the most beautiful moments of female empowerment every filmed. There is no sex, no proclamation of independence or any other act or sense of bravado. There is simply the inhalation of a forgotten smell. When you see it, you'll understand. For that scene alone, I wish this woman could have won every award for supporting actress there was. Not even a nod. I blame Woody Allen.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Making Life Easier...Really?

I have a curse. I notice stuff. I notice things constantly that drive me crazy. People say life is short and while I disagree, I can't stand wasting it. I'm not talking about things like sitting in traffic. That shit doesn't bother me for a second. I figure there's nothing I can do about it, so enjoy the view, the music and the solitude. How often can we be forced to enjoy our own company? I'm talking about the things people do that makes no sense. Things like these are what bother me, because people don't see the silliness in it.

Setting the table with bowls when you'll be serving the soup, stew, etc, directly from the pot. So basically you're saving time by setting the table twice?

Backing into the driveway, so it's easier to get out in the morning. The time it takes to back into most driveways is about twice as long as it takes to back out in the morning. Don't believe me? What someone do it.

Leaving early to get somewhere on time. Now there is nothing wrong with being punctual, but how often, in an effort to be somewhere early, do you forget something or end up sitting and waiting for others who didn't do the same? only Then find the frustration you feel from waiting has a negative effect on you mentally.

Writing notes. I can't stand the note writing, post it phenomena. If it's important you will remember it. If it's not, your writing it will only make you think of that one thing all day long, when chances are, there are many more important things to worry about. Calendars are fine, but individual notes are a waste of time and mental energy. Which leads me to....

Grocery lists. I will never understand these things. Unless you are preparing a specific dish, these are unnecessary. What they do is cause you to become a slave to the same foods, which in turn creates boring dishes. Case in point and I'm not one to normally complain, but I've had breaded tilapia, breaded pork chops, roasted chicken, the same kinds of cheese, the same drinks and the exact same snacks about 15 times in the past 15 weeks. I love walking in, seeing something and buying it. Maybe it's a lamb chop, maybe it's fish cakes or maybe it's cucumbers on sale. Sometimes it's something as silly as a bag of Goldfish that are normally $1.79, but because I saw them for $1.29, I bought them. Weren't on my list though...what do I do? Put them back?

Not putting makeup on so you can sleep ten minutes later. So ladies, aside from nearly killing us with your shadowy eyes in the left lane, what time have you really saved? Oh and when you finally get to work with that poor application, you know how you look? Tired. How was that extra snooze.

Fast food at the drive thru. The last three times (which have taken place in a span of about two years), that I've gone to a drive thru for breakfast, from the time I pulled in to the time I'm eating, took about 12 minutes. The average morning, I wake up, make a pot of coffee and while it's brewing, I throw a bagel in the toaster, sausage in a pan, then an egg with cheese on it. The toaster pops, I put cream cheese on it, the sausage on top, then the egg. I clean the dish and pour my coffee and sit down to eat. I've wasted no gas, no aggravation and no extra money for two arches. Total time, about 15 minutes. Are those three minutes that valuable? Oh and mine actually tastes good.

Making your bed. You're having company? No. Leave your bed alone. All making it does is make your cat think you hate him and want to deny him the warm spot you've provided. Plus, have you ever had a one night stand with someone who makes their bed? You feel like you've gone all 50 Shades of Grey, because you don't know what to do with the throw pillows? I'm gonna have intimate relations with you without a second thought, but I have to use quantum physics to figure out if the duvet gets pulled back, if we're under it, on top of it and again, am I allowed to throw the throw pillows on the floor. Shit, can we just go back to the bar, because by the time I figure this shit out, I could have backed my car into the drive thru, while applying my lip gloss.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Feeling Green: The Morning After

I'm sure many of you are fumbling for your snooze buttons, feeling the results of a job well done. The amount of booze for some of you was more than your normal share and for most I know, it was probably less as you made your way through a sea of what some of us call amateurs.

I've always gotten a kick out of St. Paddy's Day. It's the day when 6'4" 220 pound Irish lads are screaming at noon about their legendary drinking prowess and by 4:30, you're standing next to them in the toilet as they call you pussy for drinking a Coors Light, wiping vomit off of their shirt and acting oblivious to the fact they pissed themselves two hours ago. Slainte! Then there's the girls who seem to be so reserved at 3pm, when they walk in, prim and proper only to be the muse for some guy's friends, as they take pictures of him trying to get her pants off in a full bar. It's a lovely scene and one I've always had a little disdain for, but over the years, learned to sit back and enjoy. Believe me, last year, I made a very quiet fool of myself as I ordered a second dinner, unaware there was a half eaten dinner on a plate in front of me. That being said, it was a good, quiet and uneventful time. I think.

I'm feeling the intestinal effects of my least favorite meal known to mankind and that of course would be, corned beef and cabbage. I passed on the cabbage this year, because the thought of boiled cabbage while sober actual makes me retch as I type. I used as much mustard as not to make a scene and I ate just enough to fill myself without having to run for the, er Hills. Shepherd's Pie might have been a much better and far easier choice. Maybe next year.

As I think back over the years, I can't remember ever staying home on St. Paddy's Day. I'd have to go back to my pre-21 days to remember a specific time I wasn't out for the big day. I remember funny times, great times and some mediocre ones, but the one thing that was a constant, was friends. This was the first time in years I wasn't literally surrounded by friends. I can't lie. This morning, it hurts a little more than missing out on the Super Bowl festivities and New Year's Eve.  Maybe it's because I've been in contact with some people lately that have made me miss it, but I really missed the camaraderie that comes from downing pints with people you like. Believe me, it's not the drunkenness, I've actually come to find a bit of disdain for that state, but it's that starting a day and having it escalate into a memory. Sometimes a very hazy one, but a memory nonetheless. I miss that.

Thursday is the NCAA tournament. Twelve hours of college hoops with 16 games on. Then again on Friday, then eight more on Saturday and Sunday. Everyone knows that this was my thing. So much has changed and the guilt from last year's fiasco, coupled by my current situation, has my emotions all over the map. That being said, I'm stuck in a town with no real place to watch, with nobody to watch it with, no pools to run, no brackets to check and even worse, not even CBS at home, because Direct TV sucks. Unfortunately for me, this sour taste can't be remedied by extra Crest, as the corn beef was. This one is here to stay. At least baseball is coming and that is something I can enjoy in a fashion I've grown accustomed; alone.

For the rest of you, especially those who will be out tomorrow for the games...isn't today the day when you really hope the road rises up to meet you?

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Random Thoughts On St. Paddy's Day

Last year, I drank more shots of Jameson in a 30 minute period than should be legally allowed. This caused me to order a second dinner, because I didn't realize I hadn't eaten my first dinner, which was about 18 inches from my face. Yes, I ate both and woke up feeling fine.

Having a blog can be depressing when scrolling back and realizing the same hopes and dreams I have today, the same aches and pains I suffer from and the same critiques, all apply as much now, if not more. Change is so much harder than we think and not inspirational meme is going to change that. Direction, devotion and luck all need to be present. Determination is fine, but most who have lost wars were more determined than those who won. Remember that.

I hope I never become a person who needs others to see what I own. Whether it be to point out how rich or how poor, I simply hope that a brand never defines me as it does others. One "friend" in particular is so concerned with what others think of her, she's trying to market this desperation. It's sad and everyone sees the sadness, but her. That is the worst part, because what she sees as important, has made her the laughing stock of the town she resides. As much of an outspoken ass I have become, at least I still have the respect of a few.

If I never eat something breaded again, it will be too soon. Has this been looked into as one of the crimes against culinary humanity? Why do we feel the need to coat delicious food with unappetizing gravel? Sure, I love fried chicken, but let's all stop there. Please!

Back to St. Paddy's. For years, it was my grandfather's birthday. We'd celebrate and he'd join in on the Irish-ness of the affair. When he passed, my mother had to get his papers in order for the death certificate and when it was printed out it read DOB: 3-14-03 The white lie he kept going for his entire life.

I've been thinking a lot about faith lately. In part, because of a documentary that was suggested for me, but also because of the blind devotion I see on a daily basis. I saw something today, which actually made me smile. I just wish those I knew, who hide behind the shield of religious belief, would stop and wake up. You being good is only going to have an effect on you directly. That, despite what you believe, is enough.

I am closing in on eight straight weeks without a sip of booze. Nearly nine months since I could say I've been drunk. I will miss doing it with those who enjoy St. Paddy's and embrace the silliness of the day and free pass from judgement from those who've either lost their ability to have fun or despise seeing it being had by others. Slainte!

Monday, March 16, 2015

Free Writing - Take 77

The saying goes, walk a mile in one's shoes, before judging. If yours are barely broken in, yet feel comfortable, because you've been taken care of like a child for your entire life, it's best not to judge someone else.  If you want others to feel your grief, put down the tough guy/girl act and show compassion and sincerity when it isn't expected, not only when it is. If you have a huge issue in your life you feel the need to share, share it, listen to the advice, bathe in the warmth of comfort and take solace in knowing you matter, but please, don't add to your list of woes, by adding something as silly as your child's sniffle or the restaurant you wanted to go to being booked. Your serious problems then just get added to your list and most of us don't have time for your daily woes, as we have our own. Don't over thank people for niceties, but never ever neglect their efforts when they aren't warranted. Those are the ones that matter most and need to be appreciated. For both parties involved to feel they've felt someone. Two people said something to me that was so nice that I didn't know what to say, but being made to feel special is one thing, but unique is quite unexpected. My appreciation to both wasn't ready for words, because I feared they'd be misconstrued as something very different. Physical pain is so different than mental pain. Mental pain breaks down your mind and spirit, whereas physical pain just reminds you of your mortality and the you are nothing in the grand scheme of things. Nothing, but skin, bones and blood. Some mornings I watch the sunrise from a window facing west and it faintly mimics the evenings, but in secret, I wish it always was.

Quickie Review - Session 9

This movie is an absolutely incredible eighty-five minute roller coaster for the mind, but there is a huge problem with this. The movie is ninety-five minutes and the last ten is a complete derailment.
I was loving this movie. The atmosphere, the acting, the setting, I mean everything. I was loving the craziness of the recordings and everyone sort of going their own way and even the obvious parts with Gordon. I mean I was taking this hook, line and sinker. Then, out of nowhere the final ten minutes comes and it felt like someone came in and yelled, "OK, ten minutes and that's a wrap." The final ten minutes felt like we had been suckered into thinking there would be this big payoff, but we're left with the worst possible outcome. The entire thing hinged on one of two things...an ending that blew us out of the water or a simple explanation and a scene where we see the result. What we're given was a somehow drawn out conclusion that took what we knew for fact and threw in something ridiculous. I looked and saw that this was to end differently and I wish it had, ambiguity and all. I realize I'm fourteen years late in seeing this horror "gem," but now I'm beginning to understand why my regular film fan friends, never gave this a second thought.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Quickie Review - Rosewater

Stewart manages to fall into every pitfall I'd given him credit for being to smart to do. He generalizes so many things, pokes fun at the usual suspects to create inopportune levity and drags on incessantly with silly make believe flashbacks and visions. In the end, he tells a story, he nails nightly in six minutes in 100 and loses everything we care about. The true genius of Stewart is to make us care about the person he is interviewing, whether they be a former hostage or pushing their new rom-com. He fails miserably in this, reflecting so often on his own show biz insecurities, instead of on the story. His interviews with his movie's subject were brilliant and that also adds to my disappointment. Like I said, I'm a true fan of this man and I feel completely let down. An important story and one I wish was told by someone capable, not just driven.

Quickie Review - The Station Agent

I had never heard of this movie until two days ago, when reading an article about an actor's five favorite films, I saw this title. Almost as unusual as this film was the source of the tip, Method Man, yes, that the one from the Wu Tang Clan.

The films doesn't have any unnecessary scenes and the three main characters are truly perfect in every scene. Michelle Williams ads beauty and pain, as she always seems to do, as the cutesy, yet "troubled" young librarian. Dinklage is perfect and it is no surprise to read that the role was written for him, as was Clarkson's and Cannavale's. Clarkson, I've grown to realize, is great in any role, no matter how large or how small, she gives it the care each film needs. She plays a character here that is so simply stated, but so mentally complex, without ever coming across as generic. The real hero of the film is Cannavale, not simply for the much needed levity, but for the portraying that loneliness doesn't have a type and to remind us that extroverts, especially good looking and caring ones, can hurt from being alone too. That being alone is often a choice, but not an easy one.

The ending, which gets much of the attention, is important. It's simple and those who got the two little nuggets (one about the food and one about Emily) understand that the entire film isn't about wanting the world, but just enough, but never forgetting that there is more to life. Without a doubt, one of the best movies of the last 10-15 years.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Question For Anyone

From the outside looking in, you have it all. You have a loving husband. You have beautiful, healthy kids. You have a good job, decent benefits and stability. You have a home. You have family who loves you and friends who are there at the drop of a hat. You have pets that view you like you're a god. You have a social life and you have hobbies. You have what everyone used to call "The American Dream."

You post pictures of all of this on Facebook for others to envy or maybe simply just appreciate. You tell us daily of your little ones achievements and we praise them. You tell us of your family's ills and we send out concern. You tell us of sadness and our sympathies come faster, with prayers from some and just love from others. Everything about your life that is positive, we embrace as you doing well and we're sincerely happy for you. We see you in the street and you and your family is smiling and it just cements our thoughts. You tell us you're happy and we feel joy. So why?

Why do you spend minutes, maybe even hours, posting memes about your hardships, your feelings of neglect and being unappreciated. About not being loved and finding someone who will. About the daily struggles and torment you feel, but only seem to feel at 6AM, when everyone else is asleep? Why do you do it? Is it purely for attention or is your entire life a lie? That last line might have sounded crude, but if you knew what people thought and what they said, when they see these every morning before work, you'd think twice. Whether they are true or not, you'd hesitate, because believe me, when we see that smile and those vacation photos, we don't believe any of it, because of those morning posts, begging for a different life, using the words of someone else to convey your sadness or your desire to simply be noticed every day. Can anyone tell me why anyone would choose to live a lie all but the handful of minutes each day they search for a picture to show the world?

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Random Thoughts

Been a while

OK, this might sound nuts, but I didn't realize you can completely shut off people's posts and stay friends with them. Whoops, sorry racists that I unfriended. JK, I'm not sorry.

In other news, The Grand Budapest Hotel was great and Nightcrawler sucked.

Some poll listed Tina Fey as "America's Choice" to replace Jon Stewart. I double and triple checked, but surprisingly, this poll was not taken in 2004 when Fey was still funny. I like her, because she's smart and cute, but she's not funny. Her sidekick is hilarious and she just plays off of her, but alone, ugh. She's as drab as the decor in the Shining.

While I'm all for marijuana legalization, I find it very odd that now that is legal, 20-somethings are retiring to follow their "path." Hmm, guys in the NFL giving up potentially tens of millions to "find themselves." That shit is the Gateway drug alright. Gateway to poor choices.

I know most of you are thrilled with the warmer weather, but good fucking lord that dripping for the last 36 hours is enough to drive me insane. If there is one noise I can not take it's dripping. It's truly torture.

I spent 10 years sitting alone eating dinner and it was the single worst thing in my life. Now I get to sit with someone who doesn't speak. I think that might be ten times worse.  It's dawned on me that when you see people in an environment that is their comfort zone, they do nothing. Maybe that is what life is all about. Sitting alone and not saying a fucking word and then if you've mastered life, you can sit with others, say nothing and then all write each other notes about how fun it was saying nothing to each other.

I've also realized that being a multitasker is a horrible cross to bear. I don't know if I truly have ADD, but it's made me so sympathetic who those who suffer with that burden. I've always taken pride in being able to do ten things at once and in doing so, save time. Time to watch six movies, get an extra hour to lay in bed, whatever it may be. I've always thought this was a plus in my life, but over the past few years, especially the last few, I've gravitated or just happened to be with people who simply can't do two things at once. I mean nothing. It must be a wonderful thing, to be able to focus on one thing, solely for days on end and when that pops into your head, nothing else can be accomplished. I guess that is where art comes from. I am not artistic, because my mind is like a Pollack.

I've been very upset by some people I thought I knew lately. Not people I know, just people I thought I knew one way, who have proven to be awful people. So much hate and anger fills them and they love bad things. Love might be a strong word, admire or maybe even a blind eye is turned to the negatives of that which they praise. It's a sickness in my mind, but then again, they might see me caring about the homeless more than their aunt with the swastika tattoo to be rude.

I'll end with a happy note. Two people have made me laugh so much lately. Another has made me feel important. A fourth has made me feel like my opinion matters and a fifth has let me know something else about myself that I'd thought I'd lost. Here's the funny thing. None of them were close to me eight months ago. It's a weird world, but not all bad.

Quickie Review - The Grand Budapest Hotel

Message boards, social media and personal conversation and I still don't get it. Why does anyone watch a Wes Anderson film if they don't appreciate his vision? The movies are all the same, in the sense that they will dazzle you visually and bewilder you if you're not accustomed to his style of dialogue, much like many of our youth who simply can't grasp those "silly B&W films."

While I wasn't trying to be philosophical, someone who also likes Anderson, asked me to explain in simple terms what his films are an why they work. I had just seen Jaws the night before and this is what I could offer. "Imagine Jaws, if the movie was told by Hooper and Brody, from the perspective of Quint, sometime many years after it happened." Just as the greatest scene in Jaws is Quint's telling of the USS Arizona, Wes Anderson allows time to turn the tales into memories and we all, nobody who we are, tend to embellish. All his movies are doing is embellishing greatly on simple subjects, like love and life. The Grand Budapest Hotel takes a very simply story, makes it into a five part insane spectacle and for all the complete zaniness, it comes across as nothing more than a man with a great story to tell, telling it, to a writer, who then turns it into his own tale. It might be short of brilliant, if only for the fact that, like all of his movies, they take multiple viewings and not all of us are willing to give them that time.

Quickie Review - Nightcrawler (or Funny Games for Dummies)

When I first saw Funny Games I realized immediately that the movie wasn't the glorification of violence, but the condemnation of our own craving for it. The movie leaves you feeling so awful about the unaffected violence that it works without explanation. I found Nightcrawler to be the opposite. It spoon fed us how to feel and it did so by making nobody likable. There's not a single character we feel even an ounce of sympathy or empathy for. Yet, at the end, we're given a very different outlook. Is this because one was European and one was American or was this because the direction lacked the experience to tell the story without the suddenly common practice of, telling us how to feel?

Monday, March 9, 2015

Those Friends You Connect With

Everyone has those friends. Not the ones you spend the most time with or even like the most necessarily, but those friends you have a different kind of bond with. It's on a different level. because it's partially a shared personality, but it's also value, morals, ethics, but not across the board mind you, just random topics. There are times when these agreements seem to pop up just to remind you of their importance to you and you hope, you to them.

The last few days, I've been feeling guilt over the crisis in the Middle East. It was eating away at me, because I knew lives were being taken, but it seemed secondary. I was more upset about the art, the relics, the statues and other artifacts that had survived hundreds of years and were enjoyed by many generations. It bothered me that I felt that they were in some way more important than human lives, because they were a symbol of perseverance.

As with anything that is old, we tend to value it, not only for it's value, but for the journey it may have survived. In a world with weather that destroys homes built just days before, we have these objects, whether they be tiny or massive, that have lasted for ages. When we look at a human life that is ended at 21, we morn it not fulfilling it's destiny. When someone reaches a century old, we somewhat expect the end and we're not guilty in doing so. Just thinking of anything that has survived eight hundred years of war, weather and simple wear, it is hard to imagine how someone could destroy it. We're insignificant in comparison to these old treasures. They've been along twenty times my life and they were destroyed by someone half.

Today, I opened my e-mail and read a line or two about this. No previous mention. Just to mind, in perfect synchronization, despite differences of opinion throughout, but this, without question the most important and difficult topic, we both agreed. Two people who value the little things in human life, found such value in these artifacts, that it humbled us. Morally, it will still eat at me, but knowing someone else trusted me with this and we both had been letting it bother us, might tell us more about our humanity than this thought that lacks it. Sometimes it's just refreshing to know you're not alone in your struggles.

Quickie Review(s) - Horror Fest - 11 Films

It's been a while since I've bothered mentioning my feelings on horror flicks. I usually don't write much about them here, because horror films seem to be so incredibly subjective.  If find some men love the T&A slashers of the 80's, while women deplore them, instead craving the revenge flicks of the last ten years. I've always gone for more of the cerebral films, maybe not even true horror to be honest. Psychological thrillers, with gore are fine, but the horror films that turn me on are the ones that appear to be about one thing, but are about something completely different. Wes Craven's The People Under The Stairs, might be one of the greatest examples....unless of course, you want to get back into Martyrs again. So I'll keep these quick and to the point...unlike most of the films.

ABC's of Death 2 - Absolutely horrible, with the exception of four segments. S and X are absolutely chillingly brilliant. J and T are definitely above average. The rest are awful, with maybe F, getting a passing grade.

Starry Eyes - Great lead performance by Alex Essoe can't trump the truly awful acting by her supporting cast. especially the ridiculous Marc Senter, who is so excruciatingly bad in everything he's in, I'm convinced his very presence is an in-joke. The premise is silly, but some a nice kitchen seen and a weird quirk from the lead, make this passable.

Cronos - Del Toro's first feature. How've I missed this for 20+ years. Brilliant in almost every way. Little quirky throw-ins and some wonderful nose-thumbing to Hollywood, just add to this brilliant take on the vampire genre. No capes, not teeth no necks, just a story about eternal youth and being careful for what you wish.

Annabelle - Everything The Conjuring had hoped to be was achieved in this one. With a beautiful and competent lead and an (unintentionally???) funny supporting role from Alfre Woodard, the movie really clicks. It's also very careful not to break a cardinal rule, which ruined the Chucky movies...sort of.

White Zombie - Yes, it's 1932, so we give it a little credit, but even Bela can't pull the magic out of this horror show. The music and cinematography add, but the plot is terrible and the acting is atrocious. Definite pass.

Omnivores - Spanish tale about, well, I can't say. This one surprised me. Beautiful people (truly stunning), good acting, great plot, but a red herring the size of Moby Dick that ruined the last 20 minutes of the movie for me. That being said, it's beautifully done with just enough mental morality to keep you thinking about this one for a long time.

Open Grave - I had heard this was great, but once again nothing really happens in this. Even the slow build is littered with holes and the payoff is nothing more than an open ending to allow for a sequel, that would, we assume, have little to do with the first.

Crazy Eights - Frank Whaley, Traci Lords, Dina Meyer....what could possibly go wrong? Oh yeah, Gabrielle Anwar never made it big and I'm still wondering what happened? She's still beautiful and can act. She's the best part about this, but unfortunately, the first or second to go. I'll save you some time. Do the math.

Honeymoon - Many are dubbing this a psychological thriller with a huge plot twist. Unless you consider it a twist to go from sucking to sucking differently, there is no twist. Oh yeah, and if you ever want to see how not to act in front of a camera, watch this. I thought Donner Pass was bad acting, but this is epic.

Ravenous - Robert Carlyle. That's it. Movie is terrible, but he's about as enjoyable an actor as their is to watch. He is special in this, because he sort of....well, just see it and then see everything else you can with Robert Carlyle. He's been in some awful movies, but he's always the best part.

The House of the Devil - There are people who like Ti West and then there are the other 99.9% of the world who isn't related to him. Just kidding. He's awful at what he does and it's a shame, because if he took his craft as serious as he takes himself in interviews, he might be putting out some better work. This homage to 70's and 80's slashers forgets one key ingredient. Shock, gore and a anything happening in the first 41 minutes. I'm not joking, not a single thing happens other than two girls getting pizza, making a phone call, trying to rest and driving. Nothing else...for 41 minutes. Then something shocking happens and not a single thing happens for another 23 minutes. Nothing. If you're still awake it gets weird, but not in a good, exciting or scary way. Then it ends.




Sunday, March 8, 2015

Free Writing - Take 76 (Speed Round)

You ever see something that someone writes or hear something they say and realize that something is wrong? Something is seriously wrong. Not life or death, but quite possibly, that things will never be the same. Sure, you probably have all seen it in summer romances or at work, but when it hits closer to home and it sticks out, it changes everything. Sometimes it's a friendship, a relationship, family or maybe just something you've grown accustomed to being lost. The mailman waving each day around the same time or the neighbor who slams their door shut. It might not even be something you like, but you grow accustomed to it and it becomes part of life. And then it is something small, that you know is the beginning of something bigger and it's that very minute you feel pain.

Quickie Review - The Judge

Weighted down by a formulaic Hollywood plot and absolutely nothing original is a black eye on this film, but in the end, you don't care one bit. Watching Robert Duvall work is worth the price of admission and I must admit, it was quite enjoyable seeing Robert Downey play Tony Stark sans the Iron Man outfit. Everyone else plays just above the bar, to lift their blah characters and the film to a passing grade. The real magic is, as expected, Duvall, who plays a curmudgeon to a tee. The courtroom scene might make you run for the hills, but their are enough scenes littered throughout, especially those with Farmiga and the little girl, that make this a little better than your old TV courtroom drama. Did I mention Duvall is in it?

Friday, March 6, 2015

Foxcatcher - When Creative License Changes History

All I had heard about Foxcatcher, was how three vastly different actors, came together to give performances that should have won awards. I was told by some that despite the "depressing" ending, the movie was one of the best of the year. What I also heard, was the guy who the movie is about, the man who wrote the book, was disgusted by how this film ended up. As someone who followed this story as it unfolded, I feel like the participants were wronged.

Mark Schultz is a simple man. He's not the smartest guy in the world, but he's hardly the mentally challenged character, that Tatum plays. His brother Dave, was a gregarious man. Fun-loving,  intelligent and nothing like the sad sack he's portrayed like in the film. He was also the buddy to du Pont in real life, not Mark. Then there is du Pont, who despite quite possibly being clinically insane, wasn't nearly as outwardly odd in interviews and footage, until he snapped. All this doesn't come close to what truly bothered me about the film. The false ending, which in reality takes place six years after Mark leaves Foxcatcher.

The truly interesting part of this story, takes place after Dave's murder. The fact that a white man of wealth had committed the act of murder and the police did nothing. They allowed him to hide in his house and performed hostage negotiations, despite there being no hostages. All this happened, while his still, very successful, Foxcatcher farms was putting out Olympic quality wrestlers, such as Kurt Angle. Anyone who followed the real story, understands that 90% of the film is fiction, which I felt really takes away from the story. Aside from being painfully long and boring, it's inaccuracies are something I just couldn't get past.

I have always been OK with creative license for the purpose of drama, as long as it doesn't change the events. Take a movie like Argo for example. The dramatic ending was actually, not at all the close call that was detailed in the film, but the panic and fear of being caught, wouldn't have translated had the timeline been two hours apart, as in real life. Then there is American Sniper, which I haven't seen, but know enough, that I'm prepared to see a version of a "true story," that is completely distorted. The book depicts Kyle as a sociopath (and remember, he wrote it), while the movie shows him as one who was just following orders. Subsequent articles written by other snipers who knew Kyle, shine a much darker light on him, both before and after his tours. While I don't believe the film's intent was to do anything more than show the effects of PTSD, it has turned Kyle into a cult hero. One that others who have performed his duties, neither revere or feel is warranted. In an age, where the most watched news source, has been cited as being 60% false and the average news, somewhere in the 45% range, maybe we need to stop blaming the entertainment industry and look at ourselves and our growing inability to tell truth from fiction. Or better yet, our desire to even care what is true or not.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Quickie Review - Finding Vivian Maier

While I thoroughly enjoyed the film, especially the first 15-20 minutes, I was a little bothered by the way the film played out. The interviews with the clearly disturbed brother, sister and the mother, who obviously, was in for a cut, didn't need to be in the film. Then the woman who suggested abuse, yet seemed to have her life defined by Maier, as she tried to muster every ounce of emotion and fake guilt. Her friend, more than happy to be party of the charade. People who talk about abuse for the first time, usually don't do so on camera. The fact these scenes were so prominent, shows that they felt wronged that they were not rewarded. Maloof on the other hand, seems to disappear from the documentary during this part, almost hiding away from the fact, he went from complete praise, to even making money off of her, to destroying her personal legacy. He almost mentions the family of boys taking care of her rent, as an afterthought. Her burial spot, never shown, yet a video of her basking in the happiness of the boys detailing the spot. I feel as if Maloof brought us something wonderful, in allowing us to see her brilliance, but in the end, let her down, by never defending her privacy.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Free Writing - Take 75

This will be a short one, I promise. If I am on edge the next six weeks, please don't be offended.  I might not be my normally chipper self and there may be times I may lean towards the side of sarcasm or plain old crassness. I do sincerely apologize. I'll admit, that the public version of Facebook is making me truly despise some people I genuinely like. It's not my place to condemn those who feel it necessary to boast about their activities supporting things I want the world rid of or to constantly tell us all what we can see by stepping outside or maybe even gazing out the window. It's winter folks and this is what winter was when we were kids. Our parents didn't complain and we didn't know it was bad, because we went to school. Our parents weren't assholes like we are. They didn't sue the school when the bus skidded into a tree and they didn't pay others to shovel their walk. Hell, we reveled in this weather as teens, as it paid for our underage drinking a pizza binges at Albanese's. Back to my point. I'm not sick and nobody I know is sick, but something is going on in my life that will cause me a little more stress than I'm used to (and I'm used to quite a bit). So bear with me. If I offend you in any way, let me know privately. Please and thanks.

Monday, March 2, 2015

February Movies

February's List. #30 was actually movie #63 for the year.
  1. The Town That Hated Sundown - Remake or Sequel? Solid start, but completely fizzles.
  2. Boyhood - Long-winded tale of growing up with a very misogynistic angle.  
  3. Filth - Scottish film with James McAvoy as bad cop. Heavy, but not the Bad Lieutenant.
  4. Trance - Great cast flounders in another Danny Boyle debacle, but Rosario...no words.
  5. Odd Thomas - Yelchin and my new bae Addison Timlin shine in Koontz adaptation. 
  6. Detention - Cross between Easy A, Scream & Hot Tub Time Machine. Good fun!
  7. Fighting Express Trilogy - I'm counting this as one, because I watched it in FF. Awful.
  8. Under the Skin - eerily though provoking with Oscar worthy performance by Johannson. 
  9. Killer Mermaid - aside from a tiny bikini and shorts, this one is as bad as it gets.
  10. Gone Girl - Wonderful acting can't help poor script and silly premise. Ending is a mess. 
  11. Virunga - Documentary on the preservation of Congo's Mountain Gorilla's and so much more.
  12. Thale - Noregian fairytale with slow beginning and cheesy ending, but solid guts. 
  13. Enemy - Simplistic tale of infidelity, made out to be much more complex than it is. 
  14. Friday the 13th: Final Chapter - Re-Watched. Silly fun. Forgot how lame 80's horror is.
  15. Wicked Little Things - Surprisingly strong cast carries this above par. Simple, yet effective.
  16. ABC's of Death 2 - Pretty awful sans four scenes. F, S, T, X. 
  17. The Man From Nowhere - Korean action masterpiece. It's what taken wished it had been. 
  18. White Bird in a Blizzard - Great cast in one of the worst movies ever made. Ridiculous ending.
  19. Hellraiser - Re-watched. Wonderfully creepy, but hilarious at times, especially Higgins.
  20. Dazed and Confused - Re-watched. Still probably the best Linklater film. Timely and timeless.
  21. Starry Eyes - Could have been a modern day Repulsion, but goes the demonic route. Meh!
  22. White Zombie - Poor Bela. First Zombie film ever is true to mystique, but lacks decent story. 
  23. Only God Forgives - Winding Refn and Gosling miss, but Scott Thomas is Razzie material. 
  24. Crazy Eights - Cast of up and comers (if it was 1990) can't help this horrid film.
  25. Omnivores - Wonderful Spanish horror, with a fatal flaw keeping it from brilliance.
  26. Solaris - Tarkovsky crawls us through this simple look at human's ruining humanity. 
  27. Open Grave - Silly plot that never takes hold due to horrible acting and script.
  28. The Hours (parts, reason behind it) - Incredible performances with standouts Moore and Harris
  29. Whiplash - I'm in a minuscule minority, but one of the worst movies I've ever seen. 
  30. Annabelle - Ten times better than The Conjuring. Thrilling and even has a few legit scares.


Free Writing - Take 74

The clock ticks the weekend away, but it doesn't matter. This was a vacation for one, but a realization for me. A realization that I'm in more pain than I care to admit. That the simple act of sitting is becoming an issue. People laugh when they hear me complain, but they don't realize what this time last year was like. Wincing in pain as I walked over to demonstrate some sport for my kids, collapsing in sweat as I got home. I'd trade that pain for an hour a day with those angels. No beers and buddies to bounce my woes off of. Deaf ears surround me, both literally and figuratively. Even those on the other side of a phone, whether it be voice or text, seem uninterested in my plight. I can't say I blame them, as it's not a very exciting story. Movies, always dear to my heart, have taken the place of Friday and Saturdays laughing over shots of Jameson or whatever my friends poured me. I don't watch movies like I used to. They are no longer simple entertainment, but something I break down constantly. Going back in my mind. Tonight, I wanted to take a nap and I literally thought out an entire movies and ran it over in my mind, changing lines, characters and results, I couldn't stop thinking and then it came to the end and I was unhappy. I would have rather slept. Two hours I thought this through, thinking maybe this is the idea that lead me to writing it out. It wasn't. Even my title was comical and my inspiration a pop culture icon, famous for who knows what. I would love to know one of these people to understand what makes them tick and how one can be so calculating to maintain fame for doing nothing. Filet mignon for dinner, so incredibly odd in my mistake cooking it, yet it tasted perfect, with the onions and spinach. All three in a bite, tasted like a gourmet steak sandwich, sans the bread. It's not 5AM, I took out the garbage in a tee shirt just two hours ago. Snow angels tempted me, but I feared I'd be stuck. Darwin Award, my fond farewell.