orphan of indifference
I was lazy for most of the morning and hung around the apartment doing not a whole lot of consequence. I half-watched the Twins beating the Yankees, but didn't stick around for the end (that is, to see New York win) because I needed the power of caffeine and the company of strangers to motivate me to get a little bit of work done in the afternoon.
After a bit of progress, I ran some errands, put up some posters for a show (the Lashes on Friday the 15th at Chop Suey) and bought some CDs, even though I definitely should not have. I'm listening to one of them, Blueberry Boat from the Fiery Furnaces now (which I admit that I purchased because of their cute protest poster and the positive pitchfork review) and still haven't listened to Puking and Crying by S.
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Later, I had Ethiopian food with Carole and Atri. Per usual, the feeding frenzy instinct kicked in and we were overfull with time to kill before our next agenda item; so we browsed around in the used book store with the gigantic cats for a few minutes. Lately, looking at books just makes me feel guilty that I'm not reading enough. But, instead of reading something I just become overwhelmed by the list of unread things and give up.
Thus, we left emptyhanded and walked to the Egyptian to get in the big line to see I ♥ huckabees. I'm pretty sure that I liked it much more than I should have. What can I say except I ♥ I ♥ huckabees? So what if the whole operation threatened to spin apart into chaos and overwhelmingly absurdity from time to time? The characters (/actors) were great and I left the theater with a smile on my face thinking of funny scene after funny scene and would probably see it again.
It's definitely more Flirting with Disaster than Three Kings, but that's O.K.
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[and after writing this, waiting for the Capital Gang, I hit up metacritic to read some reviews (mixed) and find this in Manohla Dargis's review:
(see also: jaffe & jaffe, huckabees corporation, and open spaces coalition)
After a bit of progress, I ran some errands, put up some posters for a show (the Lashes on Friday the 15th at Chop Suey) and bought some CDs, even though I definitely should not have. I'm listening to one of them, Blueberry Boat from the Fiery Furnaces now (which I admit that I purchased because of their cute protest poster and the positive pitchfork review) and still haven't listened to Puking and Crying by S.
-
Later, I had Ethiopian food with Carole and Atri. Per usual, the feeding frenzy instinct kicked in and we were overfull with time to kill before our next agenda item; so we browsed around in the used book store with the gigantic cats for a few minutes. Lately, looking at books just makes me feel guilty that I'm not reading enough. But, instead of reading something I just become overwhelmed by the list of unread things and give up.
Thus, we left emptyhanded and walked to the Egyptian to get in the big line to see I ♥ huckabees. I'm pretty sure that I liked it much more than I should have. What can I say except I ♥ I ♥ huckabees? So what if the whole operation threatened to spin apart into chaos and overwhelmingly absurdity from time to time? The characters (/actors) were great and I left the theater with a smile on my face thinking of funny scene after funny scene and would probably see it again.
It's definitely more Flirting with Disaster than Three Kings, but that's O.K.
-
[and after writing this, waiting for the Capital Gang, I hit up metacritic to read some reviews (mixed) and find this in Manohla Dargis's review:
Loud, messy, aggressively in your face and generally played for the back row in the theater, the film doesn't offer up solutions, tender any comfort or rejoice in the triumph of the human spirit. [nyt]and realized that we managed to sit in exactly the right spot. Maybe it's time to visit the existential detective agency?]
(see also: jaffe & jaffe, huckabees corporation, and open spaces coalition)
the html is ampersand hearts semicolon
<♥>
ellen
ps: chris gets to see you!
pps: I know what an ampersand is, really i do.
ampersand
hearts
semicolon
reads like a modern poem, doesn't it?