Today the weather was gorgeous! Self spent the day engaged in useful pursuits:
She spent the whole morning writing. (“Writing,” in self’s book, does not equate to xxxx number of pages produced. In fact, perhaps she ought to use the word “musing” instead of “writing,” for she spends just as much time reading as actually tapping out words on her computer. What self means is: as long as her imagination is actively engaged, she feels she is writing — or is this yet another of self’s endless rationalizations? Once again, she digresses)
Round about noon, the plumber came and did various things to the pipe under the sink, for an hour and a half.
Then, because self had been so patient (both with her writing and with the plumber), self decided to treat herself to a movie in downtown Palo Alto. And she went running off to see “Two Lovers,” ostensibly Joaquin Phoenix’s last movie. Which was not, after all, the great movie The New Yorker had led her to believe it would be, but was fitfully absorbing. For one thing, there was a brunette playing someone besotted with Joaquin, and she was supremely touching. But, on first sight of Joaquin’s other love, Gwynnie, self thought to herself: that woman is too old to be playing the part of a club-going party girl. And, for that matter, Joaquin himself seemed a little too old for his part. The only actors who seemed right for their parts were: aforementioned brunette; Isabella Rosselini, playing Joaquin’s mom; and the actors who played, in this order: Joaquin’s dad, Joaquin’s dad’s business partner, Gwynnie’s married boyfriend (Good Lord, was that bald guy really Elias Koteas of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles era?). Moreover, self thinks the movie has a very stupid title, for the only person Joaquin/Leonard seemed to love was himself. And all the emotions felt by various characters in the movie were too clouded by need, or anxiety, or what-have-you.
Since self just finished watching “The Tempest” at Steppenwolf, where the two young lovers were really young-looking (and therefore projected a touching innocence), self couldn’t believe she had to watch two famous actors (Joaquin and Gwynnie) reprise roles they should have been playing ten years ago.
And, anyhoo, self never found Joaquin Phoenix attractive (or even believable playing a Jewish man), and every time Gwynnie flashed her pearly whites, self just wanted to smack her.
Having gotten all of that off her chest, self went to Safeway and when she got home, started cleaning up her kitchen. Then, she decided not to finish reading Mark Helprin’s The Pacific and Other Stories because she just couldn’t get into the various situations described therein (in spite of very gorgeous writing). Instead, self picked up Xinran’s Sky Burial: An Epic Love Story of Tibet.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.
