George Clooney the shlub

This is way after the fact but after seeing my dashboard and the last comment Lisa left (the original topic was High Fidelity) I thought I’d include a film with these other inanities I call posts.

One of the last films that stood out to me (and probably one of the last films I’ve seen period, sadly) was Up in the Air which was a very interesting, appropriate (for me) little gem. Granted, we tend to like films that resonate with us, rather than something that is technically impressive, so it should come to no surprise that I found some of it quite personal. If nothing else, pay attention to the song that plays over the closing credits. Talk about hitting close to home. I’d go into it more but I’d have to see it again, plus I promised (implicitly) I wasn’t going to do the blustery posts anymore 🙂

But, with regards to the post title, read this column from Roger Ebert about director Jason Reitman. It’s a fascinating little read, especially his remarks pertaining to women.

Gee, what a surprise

The things I write about after a long hiatus are music, food, and kitty cat. Well, it’s better than indulgent, introspective argle-bargle. Baby steps….

Fun kitty details

A couple of weeks ago, I brought home some hollow plastic easter eggs from work for my kitty to play with, thought she’d enjoy them. Boy does she. Watching her bat, then chase them around is an amusing, wondrous show. Plus, the singularity of purpose with which she does so is just inspiring.

Also, the sound of her smacking when she eats bananas is an ephemeral treasure.

I love my kitty cat.

Toasty

Did I write about a sandwich before? I hope not. (Like anyone will notice, ha ha.)

Suggestions for a delicious PBJ:

– any kind of Bonne Maman preserves

– Adams creamy peanut butter, we all know crunchy tears up the bread, which is why you want to use…

– any kind of nutty bread, this way you get the crunchy, and smooth spreading. I’ve tried Franz brand Western Hazelnut, was pleased, same as Safeway Select Nut and Grain, which has likely been discontinued, boo hoo, as I haven’t seen any SS breads in a while. Bread to be toasted, of course.

Tall glass of cold milk mandatory, as some sort of tasty beverage is needed to wash this down. Sam Jackson recommends it.

“Play quietly…”

Song: Monday
Artist: The Living End
Album: The Living End

Ah, the miracle of song shuffle. I swear I hadn’t listened to The Living End’s self-titled debut in ages (I think it even came out in ’99 or so) and I’m pleased to say I enjoy it as much now as then. Most of the time, music that’s very immediate and energetic doesn’t have staying power in one’s (ideally) growing, expanding tastes (and waning energy levels) as one gets older, and I thought it’d be true for me, but I was rocking along to this album tonight while working out. Granted, I won’t listen to it every day, and it’ll soon take a backseat to other music, but it was nice to find that something that moved me almost ten years ago can have the same effect now. Then again, I also didn’t imagine I’d have as much energy in my 30s as in my 20s, which is why I eventually adopted a line of Alvy Singer’s as my motto, that “I’m gonna get better as I get older.”

Lots of quality songs, but track #6 was my song of choice on the record, it’s a no-brainer as the one to post . It crystallizes the punk and rockabilly flavors on the rest of the record into one rockin’ little tune. The solo herein is one of the most rollicking you’ve ever heard. This song is exuberant.

Ten months

Wow, that’s a long time. It’s not necessarily laziness, not writing has sort of been a conscious choice. Not that my posts were so unbearably overwrought, but I just wanted to get out of my head, or not enable the thoughts in it. After all, the subtitle of the blog is “fulfilling a selfish void” and I wanted to not get trapped in my own head. The purpose from the beginning was just to get in the habit of writing, I never wanted to blog full-time. Blogging by nature is self-indulgent, and for me, well, recipe for chaos, you know. I mean, everyone and their mom wants to be a “writer”, whatever that entails. Seeing as how I originally studied drama because of film, I figure “storyteller” was a better term than “writer”, in terms of aspiration. Stories require a whole world, informed by the author as it is, but being on here, I was afraid I’d just devolve into some sort of solipsism.

However, I like to think that that’s changing. Learning in my personal life to not care about shit so much, or at all, I think I can be a little less abstract, or at the very least, introspective, maybe even verbose. (Well, I can dream.) But you never know. Ten months, hey.