Will I tell you what I'm doing right now, blogging aside? I'm watching Lost In Translation.
Films don't get a lot better for me, a sucker as I am for the word unspoken and the long and lingering look of a thousand different dancing thoughts all at once. It's 'show don't tell,' all about the internal and letting the watcher do the work. The wonder in the ambiguity.
A phrase that always rankled with me, as I know it did 5X too, was the whole 'leave your brain at the door' thing. Why? Can someone explain it? Isn't art meant to provoke the senses, inspire thought away from the suits and banality of work and everyday life? Since when is white noise something to be cherished? How is it funny when Seann William Scott eats shit masquerading as chocolate?
Would ya g'way...
I like my humour a little more spontaneous. And, dare I say it, original.
Anyway, where I am at the moment is Anne's. She's down in Limerick and letting me run amok as I please in her magnificently appointed abode in Grange Lodge Avenue. Had some trouble earlier locating the tin foil but, thankfully, crisis averted.
Events of the week gone by have been notable by their sobriety. A couple of well deserved and thoroughly enjoyable gargles with Denise last evening have been the height of it. An hour is not enough in the company of the quare one from Clonmel though...
Next week I'm in Limerick again, inflicting myself on the folks while those scurvy builders scratch their arses instead of finishing off the new place... Sakes...
"Fuckin' construction workers, man..."