I was sad to hear that one of my favorite filmmakers died yesterday. I don't think I'm alone in being surprised, even given his age, because he was such a vital force in art.
I think Robert Altman was the first director I ever really followed. You know, eagerly anticipating the release of the next movie (no matter the reviews, I was just grateful he was still making stuff), reading long articles about his technique, dragging my junior high school friends to the video store to rent his movies, that sort of thing. The birth, really, of lifelong filmdorkery for me. Thank God for Robert Altman.
Have I told you that I am getting back to the gym? It's true. I organized all my sports bras and space-age workout pants (what the hell are they made of, who knows!) and have been putting together workout mixes for the iPod. For those of you who might be interested in what I feel is the best of the playlists ("Sweaty Punkrock"), it follows after the cut.
Black things I was unable to purchase today at the mall after work: Clinique Black Honey Almost Lipstick (they'd run out, no idea when they'd have more); Chanel Black Satin nail polish (I was wait-listed, OMFG, it's like Vamp all over again -- and don't think I don't feel the indignity of being wait-listed for fucking nail polish); and a black slip (I wanted one with cream lace trim, which is apparently too much to ask).
Black things I was able to purchase at the mall after work: black bras.
OK, now I go clean the house -- it's a cavalcade of guest stars here at the Barbie Dream House over the next week! Tomorrow, special guests include Jennifer and Stephen, along with musical guest Cheap Trick! On Wednesday, tune in to see Mom & Dad Pink, coming in for Thanksgiving and a heaping helping of passive aggressive fighting over who controls the kitchen! It's must-see teevee!
P.S. -- Why is it so warm in New Jersey? Is this that global warming thing Al Gore was on about?
I am too lazy of late to do anything but this easy, show-offy
(music snobs [such as yours truly] love to display their awesome taste) meme. Sorry, suck it
up. (Via Between Stupid & Clever.)
(Take heart, I think I am going to have some knitting to show you soon, for those who care; for those who don't...well, frankly, I don't know what you're doing here anymore anyway, shouldn't you be picking up your free turkey from Shop Rite?)
(Remind me when I am less exhausted to tell you about my Thanksgiving freakout anxiety hostess whackedosity. So best.)
OK, so, here's something. I recently discovered that my laundromat has a videocamera. This is a problem. It is a problem because one of my great secret joys since we moved to New Jersey has been going to the tiny laundromat in the center of town by myself at odd hours, putting on my iPod to the most ridiculously high energy, karaoke-worthy songs possible, and singing and dancing while I do laundry. Yeah. Well. I think I have mentioned before that I am a passionate but very poor dancer, right? Uhm, let's just say that I hope that my laundromat owners are, as their poorly composed hand-written signs suggest, recent Russian emigres who have never heard of the internet. If not, my totally rokken rendition of "Game of Pricks" coupled with awkward ass-shaking may be hitting YouTube later today, ahem.
That's because they believe in nothing. They have no passion about anything. And they thus assume that everyone else suffers from the same emptiness of character and ossified cynicism that plague them. And all of their punditry and analysis and political strategizing flows from this corrupt root. Not only do they believe in nothing, they think that a belief in nothing is a mark of sophistication and wisdom.
Those who believe in things too much -- who display intense political passion or who take their convictions and ideals seriously (i.e., Feingold, Howard Dean) -- either are naive or, worse, are crazy, irrational, loudmouthed masses and radicals who disrupt the elevated, measured world of the high-level, dispassionate Beltway sophisticates (i.e., Joe Klein, David Broder). They are interested in, even obsessed with, every aspect of the political process except for deeply held political beliefs, which is the only part that actually matters or has any real worth.