Où sont tes idoles mal rasées, bien habillées

All week long I've been off on days, thinking its later than usual, then today I thought, wow, its already Thursday? Perception of time is funny.

I watched this horrible movie, last night and this morning, called Loverboy, and its a vanity project by Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, and I don't automatically call all movies directed by actors who make their spouses the lead a vanity project, and also I don't always think a vanity project is the worst thing in the world, I find them vaguely intriguing as far as what they reveal about art making and creative minds and passions, even if also, yes, narcissistic and frequently mediocre in execution. But anyway, this movie was pretty bad all around. Ok, there were a few scenes that were kinda brilliant and hilarious, but really I literally mean few as in approximately three. And those are so sparse and far between, and maybe the bar was set really low. Has anyone else in the world seen this movie? That's sometimes my problem with bad movies, I really want to talk about them with people, but I obviously don't want to encourage people I like to see them either. Maybe this needs a craigslist ad. "Did you see _______ and want to claw your eyes out after? E-mail me and let's process!"

This week I also watched the movie Bug, which dommeyourass watched about 10 minutes of, even though I warned her she wouldn't like this movie, and eventually left the room when the character is about to yank his own tooth out, saying, "Ack!!! Where do you find out these films?!?" which at the time, I was tired and grumpy from work and life, but the next day when I thought about her statement, it made me laugh, because I'm like: unexpectedly traditionally cinematic thriller/horror movie; adapted from a play; analysis of paranoia and 'crazy' and normal; ptsd of a soldier; Ashley Judd -- hello, this movie was made FOR me! Except, eh, it was pretty problematic portrayal of mental illness (and by problematic I mean, completely common and typical and fcked up), but I get sucked into movies that are messy in that they manage to do interesting things in the same breath that they do fcked up things, because I want to figure out what the good parts are and how they are done. Ashley Judd does a pretty great job and has this fcking amazing monologue where she traces/creates the conspiracy in her head while talking it out (see above: adapted from a play), which I don't know, it was a moment that obviously was the most theatre-like, but it worked really well in the film, it was an amazing scene. I think Ashley Judd is kinda brilliant at what she does. And no, I don't think she's hot, actually, that's not my motivation. Also, um, Harry Connick Jr. has gotten crazy buff and in the 3 scenes he's in, one is shirtless and the other two are supertight shirts and jeans. I will cop to that superficial appreciation.

I've had nothing to do all week, no appointments, no freelance deadline, no dates, no meetings, nothing (other than show up at the office job, of course). I've been trying to force myself to appreciate it, but it makes me a bit unnerved, being left to my own devices for too long, being inside my head. I'm getting writing done, but really, no more than I would during a busier week. But also I've been broke, so maybe its just as well that I haven't had to shell out money for copies or a lattes or lunches or therapy or a dental work. Tomorrow is payday and I've been eating well all week, because I went to the store on Monday. Today I'm making homemade chicken noodle soup, I found these noodles in the store made locally by The Amish and when I was trying to decide between a beef stroganoff type dish or chicken based, I thought of the phrase "a chicken in every pot" and went with that. My brain is funny. In the moment I couldn't even think about what the phrase means, some sort of vague recollection of american history and depression era campaign slogans. Its not even Howard Zinn's fault, because I'm not that far along in the timeline, I'm still in post-reconstruction railroad building.

I constantly have dreams of being more prolific, writing-wise. I need to figure out what exactly is keeping me from it (although to my credit, I have been moving towards it more, I don't want to just constantly berate myself for what I'm not doing -- hello, therapy, I am paying attention). Recently I've just read some stuff that so completely underwhelmed me, but its been published, read, heard, and so I think, c'mon, I can do that. Maybe even better. Some of my problem is exactly that -- I don't want to have people read mediocre stuff solely with my name on it. But a lot of my ego I need to let go, because it gets paralyzing and sabotaging. I've also far behind on my reading goals. I was getting down on myself last night about my reading capabilities, but realized, that isht is a muscle and requires working out, so I just need to pace myself at first, then my curve is fairly steep, once I get going. I can't believe I'm at a point in my life where I feel more capable of running 2 miles than reading a dense book. Who have I become?? I don't even recognize this man.