"He loves, but his love has no meaning."

If you watch Angels in America and do not tear up at some point, you are obviously made of stone.

I'm too nervous to go.

It's like being too sick to go to the GP.

Arrgh!

Doomed, doomed, lovely and doomed

Why are my favorite romances the doomed ones?

As she listens to "West Side Story" yet again. With a chaser of "Little Shop of Horrors."

Perhaps I'll pop "Casablanca" into the DVD player later, or maybe "The Way we Were" will be on TCM again tonight. Or was it AMC? I don't remember. HBO can't seem to stop showing "Bull Durham." (What happens when he goes off to manage in Visalia, anyway? Huh?) Or "Before Sunset," which, I explained to someone, made me want even less to see "Before Sunrise" (and then descended into an acting-improv-geek conversation about the moment before, etc. Hi-larious.)

I gotta remember to check my Ebay bid on "Annie Hall." Yeah.

Or, maybe I'll just stretch out in the park with "Gone with the Wind" or "The Age of Innocence." Yeah.

There's a place for us...Somewhere, a place for us.....

Yeah, that's funny.

PS - the most realistic relationship on "Sex and the City" was Carrie and Berger - think about it

Note to self - Buy a cat. Noooooooo!

"I'm depraved on account I'm deprived!"
- "Officer Krupke," West Side Story

Let yourself be inspired.

Watch the Aspen interviews of the cast and directors of "Curb your Enthusiasm" at the end of the Season 3 DVD.

It is enlightening, inspiring and hilarious. And all too brief.

Don't let the bad editing and David Steinberg's dentition distract you.

I am a happy comedy geek right now. Oh, so very happy.

Contemplation and sober reflection.

Sure, it's a new year, but does that automatically mean I'll become a better housekeeper, much less a better person?

Lather, reflect, repeat.

i enjoy being a girl.....or do I?

Oh dear lord, Patrice O'neal is doing ridonkulously (theoretically) offensive material on pussy-eating and rape and women and vaginas that I can't stop laughing at.

Can't. Stop. Laughing.

It gets better and better.

'I only fuck so I have a memory to jerk off to later.'

This is horrible. And wonderful.

Women can't do this shit.
Or can they?
Huh?

HBO One Night Stand. Glad they brought it back. Remember when it was the only source of cable stand-up?

"Ladies...when you a whore, be a whore for YOU!"
- Patrice O'Neal

Methadonia on HBO

Jazz and junkie-speak are a perfect combination. I find it fascinating, now that I'm around it less, personally and professionally.

Were you ever surprised you weren't a drug addict?

Do I have AD-what?

Maybe I do have ADD.

I can't finish anything. Except lunch.

BOOM.

I forgot to make dinner, though.

And I watched ALL of the Surreal Life. Maybe, then I'm wrong. I CAN finish something.

Priorities, priorities.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

*********************************

For me, life is kind of like trying to make a waterbed, with a cat lying on it. It's like when you pull down one corner of the sheets, another one comes up...you flop down to try and stretch it, the water pushes up under the other side, messing it up, and there's a damn cat running around under the sheet, just to fuck things up even further...

*********************************

I like to hoard shit. Turns out at the moment it's not food, but pharmaceuticals. Not the good kind, but consumer products. I'd taken one trip to the Pfizer store too many, I've discovered. I've got a lifetime supply of Neosporin. Well, a lifetime for you, maybe. About six months' worth for me. I'm a klutz. A destructive klutz, baby.

Mix-ology

Here's an interesting personal experiment.

Try making a (non-topic-specific) mix tape/CD/compilation for someone you don't know especially well. Or someone you want to know better.

Let the person themselves be the 'suggestion,' so to speak.

It's fascinating. What about that person makes them so intriguing? and what about them sets you to music, so to speak? What translates them into song and verse? What makes them (and you, in relation to them) sing?

Would they like your compilation, do you think?
Would they agree?
Would they dance?
Would they smile?
Would they be baffled?

compelled to update

tired
liberated
behind on stuff
need a neck rub
need a house cleaning and laundry
tired
dinner?
perhaps
tired.

later.

xoxo

Wait. This looks too much like a fucking poem, and we all know my stance on poetry, unless it's freestyled an in the context of an improv show.

Let's recap. I got up way too early to finish part of a project. It still needs reworking and it caused me great frustration, but with some help, it's better than I thought and I feel ok about it. I still need to get some stuff done, work-wise and creative-wise, by lunch tomorrow, but I'm a bit overtired and I don't think it will happen tonight, although I'm going to attempt to make some progress on it while I"m still vertical. I need dinner, but I'm too beat to go out and get some ingredients, as stores in the house are running low. It's also a cluttery mess but I don't have the energy at the moment, it's tomorrow afternoon's project, as I think it'll be too rainy to hit Coney Island as I had wanted to. Maybe Sunday? Hopefully. We'll see. Tomorrow's a haircut too, I almost forgot. Believe it or not, I would also like a neck rub, but there's only one person I know of at the present time who I can stand doing that; otherwise, I tense up past all recognition and it makes it worse. I generally can't tolerate backrubs, massages, I find them painful and it becomes a vicious feedback-loop of tension and achiness - even 'friendly' ones. Forget about so-called professional massages, not for me.

Anyway. I should get rid of the nail polish too, it's annoying me.

More later. Off to engage myself in some other way.

xoxo

I also need to steer off IMDb.

Kirby: It's true love, my friend.
Kevin: Love, love, you know what love is? Love is an illusion created by lawyer types like yourself to perpetuate another illusion called marriage to create the reality of divorce and then the illusionary need for divorce lawyers.

- St. Elmo's Fire

Last thought, best thought. I'm done for the day.

I need to stop watching movies. Seriously. They're turning me romantical.

Celine: [Celine's song] Let me sing you a waltz / Out of nowhere, out of my thoughts / Let me sing you a waltz / About this one night stand / You were, for me, that night / Everything I always dreamt of in life / But now you're gone / You are far gone / All the way to your island of rain / It was for you just a one night thing / But you were much more to me, just so you know / I don't care what they say / I know what you meant for me that day / I just want another try, I just want another night / Even if it doesn't seem quite right / You meant for me much more than anyone I've met before / One single night with you, little Jesse, is worth a thousand with anybody / I have no bitterness, my sweet / I'll never forget this one night thing / Even tomorrow in other arms, my heart will stay yours until I die / Let me sing you a waltz / Out of nowhere, out of my blues / Let me sing you a waltz / About this lovely one night stand

- "Before Sunset"

Courtesy of IMDb

Ron Shelton, you've done it again.

Crash: "I got a lotta time to hear your theories and I wanta hear every damn one of 'em... but right now I'm tired and I don't wanta think about baseball and I don't wanta think about Quantum Physics... I don't wanta think about nothing...I just wanta be."

Annie: "I can do that, too."

- Bull Durham

Courtesy of IMSDb

Addenda.

The above-mentioned woman was not me.

1. I would never wear skinny-heeled strappy sandals.
2. I would never publicly shout "This is a real New York Moment." I may think it, recount it to friends, write in a ridiculous blog about it...but never publicly shout it.

Sigh. As if I needed to clarify that. As Ann Landers used to say, fifty lashes with a wet noodle, or something like that.

Which sounds kind of icky. I think by the thirty-seventh lash, the noodle would be gross and awful, and you'd have a starchy butt. And it's not much of a punishment, because WET NOODLES DON'T HURT.

Unless they're hot.

Ok, I'm done now. Rant over.

In other news, I've been invited to participate in a ranty-styled comedy show. Fun! Don't get me started....

This is a New York Blog Entry.

A woman was racing across East 39th street, carrying lots of shopping bags. She loses her black strappy sandal in a slight pothole. She turns around, only to helplessly watch in horror as her lonely sandal gets run over by a speeding taxi cab. She scurries back, hopping on one foot, and picks up her lonely lost shoe, which is apparently bruised but unbowed. Balancing on one leg, stashing her shopping bags between her legs, she slips the shoe back on, announcing to no one in particular,

"Now THIS is a New York Moment!"

You are here.

Made you look!

Analysis via DVD

Okay. So shopping leads to thinking (Broadway flea market day again) and thinking leads to the question, If I were the kind of person who owns DVDs (that are not sketch comedy collections), what DVDs would I own? (The only ones I own are random thing that are given to me or cost some tiny amount or were found by the ex, things like that).

So, I started thinking.

A short list was formed (including some I saw at the market, and did not buy, cause I couldn't or didn't justify the minimal cost): - In no particular order
Secretary
Moulin Rouge
sex lies and videotape
Casablanca
Love Actually
Bull Durham (I did own this but gifted it to my Mom for her birthday)
Glengarry Glen Ross (similar fate, I believe)
Animal House
Caddyshack
Breakfast Club
St Elmos Fire
All That Jazz
Little Shop of Horrors
High Fidelity
Murder by Death
Annie Hall
the Christopher Guest et al films (Spinal Tap, Guffman, Best in Show, Mighty Wind)
In the TV arena: Homicide, Oz, Your Show of Shows...I didn't pay this much mind. Possibly AbFab.

Okay. Now, this breaks out into a few distinct areas.

1. Quirky or screwball comedies.

2. Guy films. (Caddyshack fits categories 1 or 2). Actually Homicide and Oz are fairly male-dominated.

3. Doomed/quirky romances. (Bull Durham fits into Categories 2 and 3) The couples in these films are disturbed or 'off' in some way. The guy does not necessarily 'get' the girl or vice versa; someone dies (Moulin Rouge, Little Shop of Horrors), gets shackled (Secretary), or you're not quite sure where this is headed (Bull Durham, High Fidelity), or they're outright broken up (Annie Hall) or on a plane (Casablanca). Love Actually has a bunch of these, I think.

Theory: Kevin Costner should only be in baseball films (see Bull Durham, Field of Dreams), and possibly political films (JFK, that one that just came out a couple years ago. oh, maybe not political films).

Theory: The James Spader character in "Secretary" is the older version of the James Spader character in "sex lies and videotape."

4. And a couple of sentimental favorites (St Elmos Fire is a terrible movie, and fits into Category 3 and 4. Murder by Death is kinda odd, but I loved it when I was like ten.)

Whatever, I really do have better things to do.

And I bought 2 videotapes. Barney Miller episodes. A buck apiece. Sweet!

Fuck Proust.

When do you stop remembering? Or, more properly, associating?

The time-zone display thing could get annoying, I suppose.

Just watched the first half of the first episode of NY-LON on BBC America.

Notes to self:
1. Go back to London.
2. Do significantly more solo bar-hopping.
3. Abandon general distaste for overly-manicured sideburns. (Still, what's up with them??)

Yeah, that guy's hot. She's not 'all that.' It gives a girl hope.

She is a New Yorker, though. "Do you have any REAL coffee?"

Shallowly yours....

(I can't say if this series looks anything less than crap, though. Hard to say. Already got the bit.)

crap.

I feel like i've been beaten up. I get about one migraine a year, but this one was hard. And it took me about six hours to locate the tylenol and codeine, which is all i can take for them. I hope it's unrelated to the monster quantity of blood thinners I'm currently on.

I think I threw up in the middle of the night but I'm not entirely sure. I still feel nauseated and achy.

I said horrible things to my mother. Pain makes me angry. Not that they weren't true, but still.

I can't handle most people right now. Even though I want them to help me, I think. I don't know. I can't deal with human fraility. Anyone's.

But tonight, I will be hilarious. I promise.