...politics, pop culture, and self-deprecation...

5.31.2004

Why is this what election campaigns are all about? Why the the Bush administration the biggest lyingest liars in the history of liars? Why isn't everyone as terrified of them as I am? Why hasn't Bush been impeached? What is wrong with this country!?!?!?

5.30.2004



I love this picture. I love the idea of little old ladies as "hellraisers." Yeah!
Making the world safe for democracy...

5.27.2004

I just watched A Decade Under the Influence, a documentary about the cinematic revolutions of the 1970s. Aside from capturing a very exciting period in film history, in a decidedly non-stuffy boring documentary way, it made me think about a similar period in more recent film history: the "independent revolution" of the early 90s.

There was the same realization, catalyzed by one film ("Easy Rider" in the 70s, "Pulp Fiction" in the 90s), that the big studio system was failing, unable to produce movies people wanted to see. There was suddenly something new and different and fresh, and thus are revoutions born.

However, revolutions also die. After the mind-opening films of the 70s came "Weekend at Bernie's" and "The Big Chill." After Richard Linklater and Tarantino came "Titanic."

My question: are we going to come soon upon another revolution in filmmaking? Or did the big studios finally co-opt revolutionary cinema when Disney bought Miramax and Fox opened their own "independent" imprint? Can we reclaim the real meaning of independent, instead of mistakenly linking it to anything that doesn't star Kate and Ashley Olsen?

Whatever. I'm still excited for "Harry Potter." Whoot whoot!

5.26.2004

Mmm. Stepford Wives and tuna casserole last night. What more could a girl ask for? Since hearing about the soon-to-be-released Stepford Wives remake, I've become obsessed with the film, so we had a little screening last night.

The first thing I thought was how much it reminded me of Rosemary's Baby. It has the same themes: paranoia, the war between the sexes, and a husband who has (inexplicably) turned against his wife for his own selfish reasons. Well, duh. They are both based on novels by Ira Levin.

A stellar film, and I have a new cinematic hero: Paula Prentiss, who plays the feisty best friend, Bobby. Not only is she super saucy, she's fashionable to boot (in a hot, hot pants kind of way). How can you not admire a character who says, "Two things I always carry with me: Tampax and Ring Dings." Awww yeah.

5.23.2004

So. I'm officially gainfully employed. After a year and a half, I finally got the job I moved to this weather-challenged city to find. I will start my new position as Editorial Assistant for Pearson Custom Publishing in 3 days. I am simulateously thrilled and terrified. I had a panic attack about twenty minutes after accepting the job.

My whole life is going to change. Admittedly, this is what I have been praying for for the past few weeks. Things at the Bella Luna have become...um...a bit unbearable. But I've never been so good with change. And the very structure of my life will be entirely different. The people I see, the places I inhabit, the times I wake up and go to bed, the nights I go out and don't go out (and I'm sure I will be going out much less frequently, which is probably a good thing). Everything will change.

In other news, California was spectacular. I am now tan. My brother's graduation was amusing and entertaining. Seeing my family was interesting, as always (we are all crazy). The drive up the coast was stunning, making me ponder again and again why I'm in Massachusetts.

The real killer, though, was being in San Francisco again. I probably had more fun in the day we spent there last week than I did in all the countless weekends I spent there in the past. I fell in love with San Francisco all over again, and actually accepted the possibility that I might, just might, want to move back there someday. If only for Amoeba Records...

What I'm reading: Rides of the Midway by Lee Durkee, On Love by Alain de Botton, Waiting: the True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg.

5.06.2004

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

5.05.2004

Against my will, the job search appears to have been restarted. I have an interview on Friday morning. Suddenly, I am forced to start considering all these factors again, these things I decided I didn't want to consider anymore: money, responsibility, the point at which I have to grow up and decide that having fun can't be the predominant element of my career.

I just want to get out of Boston for awhile. May 14 can't come soon enough.

5.03.2004

Things have been super hectic, and I haven't had time to sit down, much less think of anything interesting to say. I hate to use this site to give updates about my boring life, but I feel the need to write something, and I don't have time to come up with something interesting. I'm still not reading the news...

My cousin has been in town for a week, and we've been having super fun. I suppose it's not that crazy that we get along so well, and are so much alike, seeing as we've known each other for 20 years. She's like my sister.

We went to Montreal this weekend. It sounds stupid, but I didn't expect it to feel so foreign. Montreal was very...strange. I was instantly obsessed with the frenchness, and wanted to move there the minute we drove across the border and saw signs that said "Bienvenue a Quebec." Yes, I'm a ridiculous francophile, especially regarding la langue. I loved it. Too bad I could barely speak it. Everytime we went somewhere, I would said "Bonjour, un cafe s'il vous plait." Then they would say something to me in very fast, unintelligible French, and I would get a blank, pained look on my face. Then they would smile, and say, "ahh, English." Yes, dammit. English.

We decided to spend our one night in Montreal on a Rue St. Denis pub crawl. The bars were very strange. When I have more time, I will write a more detailed account of the Official Montreal Pub Crawl. But I'll leave you with this tidbit: we ended the night in a hooker bar, where we watched a 25-year-old woman leave with an 80-year-old man, who had a frightening "I'm going to get laid" grin on his face. Ewww.

I'm going to California next week, and buddha knows I need the freakin' vacation. Screw Boston.

What I'm reading: Nalda Said by Stuart David. The Uses of Literature by Italo Calvino. Found Magazine.