Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Farther Away From Where I Was
In response to the question, "where are you?", Lucia typed the preceding. Dug the movie, dug the response, (of course). Medem's movie is much less...stylized than Almodovar's typically are, but it was intricately and exquisitely shot; an intriguing, often confusing, seldom boring story, with steamy bedroom scenes (porn, actually, compared to most American cinema fare.)

Speaking of the bedroom...
IFC and Sundance make it increasingly hard to leave. Then there's even Starz offering up fine fare that got shanghai'd from the box office because it was done too near Monster's Ball. In this turn as a cop, Billy Bob doggedly pursues the murderer of the transsexual husband of the woman(?) he wants to bed, while seeking advice from his drunken, fringedwelling Dad, sidestepping his public attorney ex-wife who's thought to be in bed with the crooked politicos (so to speak), and eventually coming to terms with the sissified brother the crooked politicos made him run out of town so he could be Sherriff. Billybobapalooza indeed. The funny thing about all this is that it was written by Robby Henson, which I presume is the same toothy, wide-eyed Robby Henson of 70s tv and flick fame. Oops. NOT. (take a gander at that mug, wouldja?)

Anyway, a pretty good investment of a couple of hours, but nowhere near as engrossing as LadyBird, LadyBird This movie apparently came out around 1995. Don't know why I hadn't heard of it. Excoriating. Crissy Rock's raging acting debut, so authenticated the depression, anger, low-self esteem and pathetic expectations of Maggie that most times, the movie felt like a documentary. Very, very, very well done. I'm no reviewer, I just like flicks, and that's a really good one. The Minus Man was pretty good too (it's got Janeane Garafalo, how bad could it be?) But most importantly...

Guilty over the bedridden decadence of daylong, back-to-back movie-watching on such a glorious day (I did have a headache, but still...), on Sunday I rode 24 miles--only stopping for a few minutes at the turnaround point after 12 miles! This, after having not ridden more than 10 consecutive miles probably, EVER, and that in March or April when I was still dating the Marathon Man after having not been on a bike in nearly a year. Can you stand me? I'm thinking that's not too bad for a babe of a certain age, such as myself. I'm training for my first century and I'm still on an endorphin high!

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