I'm watching "Some like it Hot" on DVD... I don't know why I bought it. Possibly because of Billy Wilder's passing, or the fact I own few classics... I am at the scene where Marilyn and Tony Curtis kiss.
In any case - last night was a few Amazon reunions. I ran into old friends I hadn't seen or rather, see only at Birthday's and retirement parties (only, they aren't retirement parties - it's usually someone leaving or being forcibly ejected)...
Today Beate and I are going to LaConner and visit Jim's Haliboris farm. Then tonight we'll have our own showing of the film. Beate managed to go to Dogmathon and gave this review:
went tonight and matt mccarty announced the film in a very good
way---sort of " a warm, human movie". he saw the depth and appreciated it.
and the audience loved it. aside the film michael is in which showed
last, it go the most applause. and was not critizised as not being true
to the form as the movie before. the first 3 were dogme, the 4th a
documentary--a good one about people with mental problems in our
neighborhood by lorian elbert-----jamie liked hers alot and got her number.
the last 3 were against dogme, icluding kelly's with michael.
it was like michael--funny and overly loud, but i liked it.
so i got to be there. and i am glad. jamie asked if anyone of us are there and i hid. left quietly, too. did not want to speak since it is for you to do so. they laughed a lot about what lyle is saying, about jason swallowing the coins, about me playing with the doll, about the tit scene.
Speaking of showings - here's a link to Beate's
grandson's art show!

From about 8am on - I decided I was having one of those days if scripted by Zwick or those horrible people who wrote for Ally Mcbeale, as if fate decided to dish out small, strange problems and see how I'd react. Some were horrible, some were sad, some were strange, some were funny. All were either punctuated with a TV soundtrack stylings of some incidental music to convey "gosh - will I get through this one or not?"... It was a very fucking long day. And I have to be back in tomorrow at 5am.
In the meantime - my movie is playing at the little theater in about 40 minutes from now and I've no idea it will be received because neither Rachel or I will be there... Oh well. Maybe today was my own form of strange Dogme movie?

Bad blogger - you were down for the past 2 days and I couldn't post a thing. I had something I wanted to rant about, but forget it... Now I can't remember. Oh well. Today is Mayday. Day I either celebrate the workers revolt against capitalist tyranny or the day where you leave a basket on your neighbor's doorstep of flowers. I'm doing neither - I'm going to see the Stage Reading of the 1988 cult classic movie "Heathers". Should be good...

While not quite a dirth, there have been a few articles recently about the death of Layne Staley, former singer for Alice in Chains. I find most of them apologetic in wanting to condemn heroine abuse, while at the same time portraying some kind of memorium for their contribution to "grunge". I am ambivalent. I think I made peace with the fact that GenX lost it's cultural "bite" as soon as Kurt Cobain shot himself. We found the act too extreme -- sure we were disillusioned and cynical, but not to the point of self-destruction... Which is why the remaining 30-somethings are making Staley's death a small footnote, as opposed to something that was a
watershed for a generation. Perhaps we've killed romanticism? Perhaps we no longer care what rockstars do behind closed doors because we care more about the product? Perhaps the ego has become divorced from the work? Perhaps a musician can simply perform and not have the press speculating if smack being shot in the dressing room has something to do with their depression and angst that comes out in their music? Ironically enough, as soon as Mr Cobain ended grunge effective in 1994, Generation Y came back with simultaneously with electronica and ecstacy, pop music took over and we've boy-band hell now ruling the airwaves and a healthy underground scene (ok somewhat...), pop diva's and their struggles are getting boring and letting the world destroy you is soooo 1994.
In any case - enough of that. Last night I went to a gala 75 Yr Anniversary party for the 5th avenue Theater. A friend managed to get Beate and I comps so we went for free and mingled with the Skinners' and Nordstroms', watching a century of Vaudville and Silver Screen Spectacle... Cyd Charice showed up to accept an award for Ann Miller. Looking quite elegant, we think she might have had bad eyesight as she nearly fell off the stage at one point (sadly ironic for someone who danced so gracefully). Afterwards, Beate and I managed to hideout in the wings and attended the staff afterparty on the stage with cake and champagne. We spoke to a few of the stars from past productions ("Hair" and "Some Happy Fella") - and I spilled Champagne on the artistic director's DKNY jacket... Oops.
One thing that was absent however was the electrifying tribute someone could have done to Nick Cave, the only one to perform a rock show at the 5th Ave, and his power in drawing the crowd out of their seats and to the stage. Guess they don't want to relive that problematic concert (velvet seats were ripped, people smoking, the venue just isn't cut out for any rock show no matter how mellow or subdued the talent... Ok, perhaps Low or Magnetic Fields could perform...)