hell is round the corner. take two.

Here I go again on my own like Whitesnake. I was nearly finished with my post, when I decided to double-check something on IMDB, and netscape crashed. Of course, I forgot to save my entry. Let's try this again, this time with more finesse.

Despite Salon.com having fallen off big time, I went to their site in search of a Carina Chocano review of the Oscar's. I got something better -- they paid Cintra Wilson to do a piece! Carina is smart and hilarious, but Cintra is scathing and dangerous. I end all of her paragraphs with a long, slow "daaaaaamn", often covering my mouth with my hand and doubling over in mock agony or real snickering. You have to trust her though -- she crosses the line A LOT, check it out if you're looking to kill some time and possibly be entertained. And just for the record, last night I totally commented that Jennifer Connelly's speech reminded me of a 6th grade book report. When accepting awards, please feel free to lose it. Even when the speeches are more annoying than endearing (e.g. Julia, Roberto), at least they're memorable.

I just learned that last night was the longest Oscar's in history. I knew it seemed more drawn out than usual, but I'll be real -- there was nothing that obviously seemed needing to be cut. In fact, there even seemed to be some things missing -- they opted not to bring out the accountants. They also had no 2nd tier actor come out to talk about having the pleasure of hosting a ceremont held earlier recognizing techincal achievement in film. Let's just say, my vote is to cut out commercials -- that would streamline the show to a nice 2 and 1/2 hours.

I went to an Oscar gathering. At one point it was a party with people mingling in the other room having conversations, but by the end, only the true watchers remained. Despite one Surly Asshole, I enjoyed exchanging banter with most the folks there, who seemed to know and love most the movies, while still able to deftly criticize and gently ridicule the votes as well as the outfits. But of course, as all gathering are apt to have, there were moments. In this case, nominees for the "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" category of Even Good Whiteys are Whiteys Awards.
1) "Sidney Poitier's wife is white, isn't she?" Now, as MelRo pointed out, this comment is relatively benign on paper, but it's a case of tone -- the implication that is somehow made him less black or less ground-breaking. But this comment came from Mr. Surly, who previously attempted to make a joke about "Madame Ian McKellan", so despite it being ridiculously snide and ignorant, it wasn't totally out of step.
2) (During Halle's acceptance speech, right after mentiong Dorothy Dandridge) "Halle Berry's mom is white, right? I mean, not that it has anything to do with the award." Me: "Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?" EGWAW Nominee: " I just...find it interesting that she...chooses to align herself with...her other side."
After I popped my jaw back into place (it slipped when my mouth fell open), I said rather matter-of-factly (and shortly, because I was trying to pay attention to the best moment of the ceremony), "well, I'm guessing she probably didn't have much of a choice in aligning herself as anything particular." When the hell did the notorious "one-drop rule" get flipped backwards? She's somehow NOT a woman of color?
But, to be slightly more forgiving, this comment was completely out-of-step of most things this person says, which means they're eligible for the Reform Project and can possibly be rehabilitated.

For the most part, it was a good time. Next year I'll probably stay at home and watch it by myself though. I'm more dependable when it comes to cracking myself up and not offending myself. Well, I do enjoy watching it with a small handful of close friends who know their isht. But watching it alone reminds me of those middle-school and high-school days when I watched the Oscars to learn about what movies are supposed to be good movies and learning names to those familiar faces. My parents were pretty disinterested in such celebrity and film criticism, as were my school peers. It was a strange pleasure I enjoyed by myself (combined with reading US magazine and Premiere and Movieline) that actually made me feel connected and an active participant in the larger pop culture landscape.

I can picture us in the living room

I should perhaps log some of my non-Oscar happenings of the past few days. Though it's so difficult, because why talk about something else? Ah well, it's not that exciting really.

On Saturday night I got very drunk off of the same drink from various Louisville establishments. We saw a couple bands perform, who were pretty good, including one named "Tomacco". See The Simpsons.

I ended up watching High Fidelity for a second time on Saturday and enjoyed it again -- I was waiting for my friend to get home and there was nothing on her two channels. On Sunday morning she was asleep and the only thing on TV was a church service to an interview with Catholic teens talking about going to church service. So I decided to pop in the movie Jerry Maguire which is a movie I've never seen, on principle. The principle being I though it would suck. But my friend has similar taste in movies with me, so I thought I'd give it shot. Esp. now that the hype is way over. My friend (who shall now be known as Bunny Chick for multiple reasons -- 1) she appeared in Playboy in the November issue. not a pictoral, but an interview regarding the new wave of activism (she works for Jobs for Justice) and 2) she was talking about feeling self-conscious about her house rabbits and having dates over, worried they would not want to come over anymore and she would forever be known as "The Bunny Chick") came into the living room as the movie had barely finished the credits. She then informed me that the movie was on loan from someone else and she hadn't been able to finish it. I soon followed suit. Cameron Crowe is a sweet, sugary, sentimental cake-y moviemaker, I also determined. But John Cusack could pull off Say Anything cause...he's John Cusack. And Kate Hudson made her part work too in Almost Famous -- I previoulsy heard rumors that she sucks as an actor and he made her performance in the editing room, but now I think it's the other way around. But Jerry Maguire has Tom "Aren't-I-Dreamy" Cruise who can't act his way out of a paper bag. And I immediately felt for Renee who was forced to play a single working mom with a sick kid who quits her job to follow her crush. Oh yeah, that's exactly how single working moms are. I'm sure me hating this movie makes me seem like I'm not an optimist or a romantic or I don't believe in the triumph of the human spirit. I am -- I just don't need to be told how or why I should be. That's part of why I liked Monster's Ball. The word love never gets mentioned -- they focus on all those other intense desires and emotions and complications, therefore avoiding the cliche.

But whatever. I'll stop driveling. Can that be a verb? I think so.

Soon I'm leaving work and will be HOME, someplace I haven't been in quite awhile. Yesterday I had about 2 hours between airport and Oscars, and part of it was spent napping. Tonight I may do laundry, I'm most definitely cooking a fabulous dinner which will include roast, cornbread dressing and gravy (I skipped lunch today in anticipation for gorging). I also have several albums to listen to and some reading that could stand to be read. Home, is where I want to be, pick me up and turn me loose.

Oh, and the first record store I walked into on Saturday was playing Nappy Roots. I swear to g-d. Welcome to Kentucky. Also, I found the second album of All Natural (Chicago local indie hiphop favorites) for about the half the price I've seen it here -- the beauty of buying local music in a different locality. Tonight I commune with the turntables and the MPC. And possibly commune with my girlfriend which would be wonderful as well.