Devotchka: May 22 @ Southgate House
Lear: April 5 @ Cincy Shakespeare Co.
I sold two pieces of furniture today! I’m getting rid of several more items over the next month. If you want anything, you can have it at the cheaper-than-craigslist price–email or call. There’s a computer desk, a rocking chair, a queen-sized headboard and bed frame, a coffee table, a bicycle, and a guitar.
Unemployment, that is.
Yup, the institution of “higher” learning that’s been paying my rent since 2003 majorly fucked up and had to let go *all* adjunct comp instructors for the spring. Not having a job is bittersweet, though. I’ve been in the vicious circle of wanting to find something else, finding I have no relevant experience for work outside the academy (and not enough education for any gainful work inside), agreeing to teach for fear of uncertainty, and doing little aside from not enjoying teaching. Maybe I’ll finally find something that I enjoy…
In other good news, the feeling I’d attributed to winter time, possible S.A.D., possible depression, teaching, fatigue, and general malaise turns out to likely be magnesium deficiency. Who knew?! The doc said a level as low as mine could cause heart palpitations and muscle weakness. After a couple of doses of magnesium oxide, I already feel better. In hindsight, I had easily describable symptoms–especially the increased heart-rate–but find it endlessly difficult to trust what my body tells me. I immediately blame myself for my symptoms (not enough sleep, not enough vigorous exercise, etc.). Good to know it isn’t always my fault.
Finally, on an entirely unrelated note, yesterday I watched/fell asleep during the worst movie: The Grifters. I found myself asking, time and again, “Is this supposed to be funny?” Well, is it?
The five-part New York documentary by PBS. I have two episodes left. The series is good, but not great; it’s as if NY arose in a vaccum. It’s fascinating to see the visual history of the city, though. And I have a powerful urge to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge now. Veace, when can I visit?
Yuck. I’m not a huge fan of Wes Anderson, but I genuinely liked The Life Aquatic. This represents a step backward for him–into Royal Tennenbaums-style vapidity. I hope he outgrows the cutesy hipsterism (not to mention the slightly disturbing orientalism on display in Darjeeling) to become a memorable filmmaker. And the daddy obsession really needs to go–even the dead daddy here is more present than most of the living characters. There’s also something to say about the icky women in this movie–a couple of fucktoys and a religious freak–but, the more I think about it, the less attention this movie deserves. It’s worthless.
Ah, Chicky. Thanks for bringing Linda Linda Linda into my life. We too rewound and rewatched the performance, and sang the song for days. I’m singing it again now. Where are the American movies like this? High school girls who look younger than 25, and who aren’t eager to get naked and screw each other over. Subtle and fun.
Another selection from the Chicky snowstorm trade (it wasn’t all muppets and hobbits). Frantic was really a pleasant surprise. I had no strong feelings at the beginning (more of the “well, it’s still snowing out, let’s put this one in” variety of opinion), but really got into this one.
Never had seen this one from beginning to end. A surprising ending, given the biopic formula we’re currently stuck in. Good stuff, even though Jones steals the show. It almost becomes his movie. Anyone else feel that way? This one’s getting the BF treatment. Stay tuned.
Last, and certainly least, a few words about American Idol. I started watching this season in the accidental sort of way: Seinfeld during dinner turned into Idol. I could’ve gotten up–or even reached over to the remote–to switch off the TV, but I sat and watched. At the beginning. And, as with many things, I just fell into a groove of watching. There wasn’t anyone particularly interesting, I was just curious about the spectacle, and every once in a while I like to check the temperature of American pop culture. It’s like watching a single episode of the Bachelor, just to be horrified. I’m quitting Idol, though, after the only remotely interesting contestant was voted off this week. That rock-n-roll nurse from Indiana didn’t have the greatest voice in the world, but she was cool. Everyone else bores me to the point of…well, actually turning off the TV.
“Aren’t you sick of men? Viagra is destroying our government.”
Hee hee. Courtesy of Chicky:
You Are a Dash