Updates, both personal and random odds & ends:
-My aunt Marinette passed away today. My mother is completely disraught (although to be frank, since the divorce, my mother only comes in two settings: distraught & drunkenly suicidial distraught, so sadly this isn't anything new). In some respects, Marinette's death is a blessing; she had a stroke a year ago, permenantly paralyzing half her body. She was a VERY active woman: walked miles and miles every day across her French town. People at 16 aren't in half as good a shape she was in at 74 (prior to the stroke of course). She... was a very nice woman. Not very talkative, but kind. And unlike the rest of my family on my mom' s side back in France, she was the only one not to express any racist sentiments. My mom's family are all Algerian
expatriates, French colonists who fled after the Algerians got independence. They never got over it: god forbid someone of Arabic descent/complexion showed up on French TV while I was overseas. They would rant about the "evils" of Arabs for hours. But not Marinette; she just knitted and did her long walks. Unfortunately, in Mom's medicated state, she won't be able to go overseas for the service (and since she hasn't been very talky with her family lately, this won't help communication between Mom and her folks back home, and she NEEDS them now).
-Rent's come up this week. I'm officially tapped out. Broke with a capitol B. Luckily, I believed I been approved for a credit card, which I'm going to pick up at my old mailbox in a couple of days. As much I dread the possibility of debt and going plastic-spend-crazy, it'll be nice not having to hit people I know up for a couple of dollars anymore. I hate hate hate being a mooch. So instead of owning friends money, I'll owe a faceless multinational financial Cookie Monster instead.
-Been reading like a fiend lately. I've put my "Boning up on the classics" project on the backburner. After finishing Fight Club, I considered either reading Eco's Name Of The Rose or Fyodor D's Brothers Karazamov. After careful consideration, I decided that my brain needs something a little less taxing, so I decided to start reading Christopher Moore instead. I wasn't disappointed: I finished "Fluke" a couple of days, and it was awesome. He reads like a more accessible Tom Robbins (i.e. not as acid-damaged) crossed with Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett's Good Omens. Fluke was a funny book, and the plot line was completely and utterly batshit crazy, so batshit crazy I won't discuss plot details because much of the joy of Fluke is the completely deranged out of left field twists. Now I'm reading "Island Of The Sequined Love Nun": its got talking fruit bats, cargo cults, cannibals, crazy cosmetic CEOs, and Filipino cross-dressers. What more could I possibly ask for? I'm hooked on the Moore (after this, I got copies of Moore's "A Dirty Job" and "Coyote Blue" that I picked up at work to start on).
-On the music tip: I just realized how completely badass Nas' "Illmatic" album is. Granted, I've been playing "NY State Of The Mind" 5 times every day for practically a month now. It's only been recently that I realized that the ENTIRE album is just as good. When I was on break today, I just started playing "The World Is Yours" on a half hour loop. Hell, I'm playing it right now. Still not sick of it.
-Also saw my first Robert Bresson film today: Pickpocket. Cool film. I'm too weary to actually write an actual review, so instead I'm going to offer some critical fragments:
-I dug the nonprofessional actors. The lead actor has the most profoundly consistent blank expression I've ever seen on a person's face. His inability to emote speaks volumes of his character.
-"Even Rocky had a montage": pickpocketing montages rule. This film proves it. The only thing that could have doubled my fun is if the "The Montage Song" had somehow jumped cultural/temporal boundaries and ended up on Pickpocket's soundtrack (which is nearly nonexistent: I dug how Bresson used very little music in the film; its nice when a director has enough faith in his audience's intelligence that he doesn't have to provide audio cues so we know HOW to feel about what we're seeing).
-Finally: on the extras side, the Paul Schraeder introduction was very well done. I'm not too big a fan of most of Criterion's Director intro series, but this one was really insightful. Schraeder had a lot to say, and most of it wasn't longwinded pseudoacademic bullshit.
And speaking of long-winded pseudo-academic bullshit:
I'm tttttttttiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeed. I'm out like a light, folks. I'm off to count sheep (or maybe Furries dressed up as sheep... *shivers* Furries... now THAT is something that won't help me sleep at night). Until next time, ladies and gents...