I got this tune from Bing Crosby
Oct. 31st, 2003 03:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silverfae9The pumpkin carving was annointed, appropriately, in blood...and for once, it wasn't mine. Jeff began by slicing into his pumpkin but quickly transitionted to slicing his finger with the help of my brand-new, apparently super-sharp IKEA knife. He's a trooper, though, and didn't even acknowledge the fact that he was bleeding profusely until hours later. I feel pretty responsible for this--it was, after all, my idea to carve pumpkins and my knife that did the damage. He took the whole thing rather calmly--the way he takes most things. In Florida, at family gatherings, we always used to say it wasn't a Mastridge party until someone shed blood. Evidently, this holds true in Seattle as well.
Mark never stops talking. His chatter is endless and self-indulgent, and though it can be wearing it's rarely anything less than amusing. There's only a very fuzzy line between inner and outer monologue and it ends up being less conversation and more spectator sport.
I'm all sugared up today. I've been bad all this week about consuming acceptable amounts of food--not out of any misguided martyr-ish impulses, mind you, but from sheer laziness and absentmindedness. I don't usually eat sweets but I've been snacking on Halloween candy all day and the sugar has smacked my mostly empty system right upside the head. I'm jittery, and with my sniffles and washed out complection from this damn cold I'm pretty sure that I'm coming across as coked-out.
It's cold today, and I'm realizing more and more that I really have no idea what I've gotten myself into. As usual.
Sylvia is out today, and I think that if I go into it expecting to be disappointed everything may turn out ok. I tend to dislike the idea of films made about the lives of real people. It never seems fair, somehow.
That being said, I want Julia Stiles to play the movie version of me. The benefit, I suppose, of having movie versions of yourself is that the world--or, at least, the movie going part--will believe that you're much more attractive than you actually are. Generally I don't dig that--I want my heroes to look like real people--but in my own case I'm all for it. You understand.
Also out now is The Human Stain, which I'm interested in. I found the book thin, a bit forced, like Roth was trying too hard to find something deeply profound in a situation that just might not have been so. (I'm sensative to this quality because I recognize it so much in my own writing.) I wonder if it works better as a movie than it did as a book. Plus, the idea of Anthony Hopkins playing a black guy playing a Jew is just to deliciously post-modern to be missed.
I'm such a snob. But somehow, you all like me anyway.
Mark never stops talking. His chatter is endless and self-indulgent, and though it can be wearing it's rarely anything less than amusing. There's only a very fuzzy line between inner and outer monologue and it ends up being less conversation and more spectator sport.
I'm all sugared up today. I've been bad all this week about consuming acceptable amounts of food--not out of any misguided martyr-ish impulses, mind you, but from sheer laziness and absentmindedness. I don't usually eat sweets but I've been snacking on Halloween candy all day and the sugar has smacked my mostly empty system right upside the head. I'm jittery, and with my sniffles and washed out complection from this damn cold I'm pretty sure that I'm coming across as coked-out.
It's cold today, and I'm realizing more and more that I really have no idea what I've gotten myself into. As usual.
Sylvia is out today, and I think that if I go into it expecting to be disappointed everything may turn out ok. I tend to dislike the idea of films made about the lives of real people. It never seems fair, somehow.
That being said, I want Julia Stiles to play the movie version of me. The benefit, I suppose, of having movie versions of yourself is that the world--or, at least, the movie going part--will believe that you're much more attractive than you actually are. Generally I don't dig that--I want my heroes to look like real people--but in my own case I'm all for it. You understand.
Also out now is The Human Stain, which I'm interested in. I found the book thin, a bit forced, like Roth was trying too hard to find something deeply profound in a situation that just might not have been so. (I'm sensative to this quality because I recognize it so much in my own writing.) I wonder if it works better as a movie than it did as a book. Plus, the idea of Anthony Hopkins playing a black guy playing a Jew is just to deliciously post-modern to be missed.
I'm such a snob. But somehow, you all like me anyway.
