Finesse And Complexity

It's a wine, not a school of philosophy, but you can't tell from the commercial.

I just finished Conversations With My Agent, which is hilarious. I have no idea how true it is (my take: true in spirit definitely, some events are true, the conversations are bogus but very, very funny). Now I have no excuse but to go write. Or, at least, make a list of everything that I have to do for school this week and in the near future. Darin is over at the Boys', which means I don't have the usual distractions when he's around, which is to laze around with him.

Last night Darin, Fernando, and I went to see Sling Blade. My writing teacher wanted everyone in the class to see it before we discussed it, and he sold it as highly as everyone else has. I seem to keep reading great things about it, but I never read what it was about, when Darin and Fernando asked me what it was about I couldn't tell them. Now there's an odd feeling: walking into a movie cold, not knowing a damn thing about it.

We went to the Laemmle Sunset 5, which is next to the Virgin Megastore on Sunset. The Laemmle Sunset 5 is a nicely designed, trendy art-house theatre. No dark little out of the way places in LA to see "art" films -- here you find them right on the Strip (one of the things I love about LA, by the way). And if you're looking for celebrities out for a night on the town, this isn't a bad place to hang out on Saturday night. Darin and Fernando spotted Ben Stiller and Tim Burton (separately, not together) and a couple of minor TV and film celebrities that they recognized but couldn't name.

Did I see any? No, I was spacey from having just woken up. I walked out of the Virgin store after Tim Burton just to confirm that it was really him. When I came back, someone else in the store walked up to me and said, "Was that guy...did he look like Tim Burton?" "It was," I said. This kid was impressed.

The movie was very, very good, by the way. I cried. That's two movies in one week: either I'm getting to be a soft touch or I'm finally allowing myself to respond to emotional tugs. I'm not going to tell you what it's about either, although I'm sure you can find out from any review, because as a character-driven "art" film (I hate these terms, which is why I put them in quotes) the plot sounds stupid or trite until you see it. The one thing I will say is that "mainstream" movies don't have enough Christ allegory these days.

Yesterday morning Darin and I went to look at two more houses. Nothing spectacular. The second one was the smallest we saw, and it had a pool (two massive drawbacks for me and Darin). The only way I would have considered it was if it came as decorated: it was owned by a rock musician and his wife, and it was tricked out in Seventies rock groupie: Tiffany shades, red velvet curtains, beads, funky antique furniture, one bedroom and the garage turned into music studios. I felt a definite need to straight my hair.