permanently damage my retinas

So, for a variety of reasons, I haven’t been keeping this thing up as well as my intentions (and your patience) would like.  Most of the time it seems I have far too much going on to post, but then even in the rare occasion when that isn’t the case I manage to find a way not to post.  I’m only posting now because I am tired but unable to sleep so this seemed to be a good non-solution to my continue sleeping effort vs. get up and make coffee dilemma.  

I have plans to start a blog about COVERAGE, but considering the haphazard maintenance of this blog I don’t see that plan getting much action.  If I were to start that blog, the first post would be about how the film is now 0-7 on the festival circuit, and the mild discouragement I was experiencing is metastasizing.  That’s right:  METASTASIZING, LIKE A CANCER.  Suck on my vocabulary, punk.  The last rejection came from my hometown – The Cleveland International Film Festival – and it smarts the most, perhaps if only because it’s not a tier one festival like the others.  There are many possible reasons the film is not getting accepted, but there is really no way for me to know at the moment, so I have to just suck it up and cling to the confidence I have that the film will – eventually – get discovered, that it is too good and original and different to go ignored, and then wait for the next festival to accept it.  Sigh.

Ok, then…  I believe I’ve come to the end of this post, and I still haven’t decided what to do with myself now.  Perhaps I’ll just sit here staring at my computer screen until I either pass out or permanently damage my retinas.

thirty hour thing

After a week of stress and sleeplessness I inevitably came down with a sudden burst of sick, beginning with a strange itch and running in my left nostril, and eventually turning into a (seemingly) thirty hour thing.

While sick, I watched Pineapple Express, if only because I like David Gordon Green, only to be left wondering (again) what the fuss about Judd Apatow is all about.  While his movies are usually fairly well-made, the humor in them rarely rises above the puerile (“balls!” “fag!” “stoned!”) and the stories are generally overwrought and waaaayyyy too long (Knocked Up was more than two hours long).  I’m clearly in the minority on this one, but it’s frustrating when a film like Knocked Up is praised as being an intelligent and groundbreaking comedy when it is actually a bunch of dick and fart jokes wrapped in an unwanted pregnancy story line.  Pineapple Express was a bunch of pot and gay jokes wrapped in a convoluted drug story line, and the only thing that resembled David Gordon Green was the inclusion of Danny McBride.

I’m still a bit sick, so just smile and nod and be happy I’m posting.

I need to leave the apartment today to buy litter for our cat’s shit-box, a feat which has gotten progressively harder as the winter has gotten colder and our apartment has gotten more comfortable.  A spacious and comfortable apartment is – perhaps – the most important key to maintaining one’s sanity in this city, especially when you are as broke as we two are.  Anyway, I’ll take the bus down to the disturbingly large pet store on 86th and buy an annoyingly large bag of litter that I will struggle to carry back to the bus stop, and when I bring it back home the cat will probably think it is food and get all excited and crap on the floor.  Sigh.  Sometimes I really wish our cat understood how good she has it, but I fear she’s forgotten all about her early days on the streets and now gets annoyed when we have to cut her claws.  Feline ingrate.  

Anyway, I need to do that now, after I take a shower and shave this snot-encrusted stubble off my face.

pinched nose and a coffee stirrer

I hesitate to speak too soon (so to speak) but as I sit here in my Manhattan living room sipping a glass of Christmas Scotch (thanks, Sister), it feels like we may actually have survived.  With the inauguration of Barack Obama less than eight hours away, the weight of the last eight years is finally starting to lift.  Was it just gas, this administration that – now that all is (almost) said and done – seems even worse than they seemed two weeks ago?  No, gas is a brief inconvenience – a moment of stink that quickly dissipates.  The Bush Administration was a giant pile of shit that we’ll be spending the next five, ten, fifteen years scraping off the bottom of our shoes with a pinched nose and a coffee stirrer.

I don’t hesitate to write that every one of the 25% of Americans who still apparently think that the Bush Administration did a pretty good job are incomprehensibly ignorant. 

I’m as cynical as the next guy about the challenges and realities of the new administration, but this moment in history overrides my cynicism.  The impending inauguration of Barack Obama is – if only briefly – a profoundly meaningful event in the history of our country.  I’m disarmingly proud – for the first time proud – to be an American this morning.

Or maybe it’s just the Scotch.