Yesterday, when I didn't really write all those posts, we made an efficient exit from 7 Paddington by eleven or so. Listened to Her Mystery Not of High Heels and Eyeshadow, The Charm of the Highway Strip, which my dad bought for himself, fragments of the Cloudsplitter tape as I slept uncomfortably and read the first hundred pages of Mao II, which really does seem to be about Pynchon. Dunkin Donuts, Wendy's, Merrick, the Fool finished as we pulled in home. Present from Alex: an Alpha-T with velcro interchangeable letters for all your punk messages. I'm wearing it today, it says "I fit math analysis."

I went to the Cinema on a half-empty stomach, for "Serendipity" and "The Man Who Wasn't There." The first was probably more enjoyable than I expected, but less so than I would have expected if I had thought about it more clearly. It takes the Sliding Doors formula to extremes, so that basically the whole movies is a string of coincidences. Funny how it follows the trend in recent movies (Memento, Fight Club) where much depends on specifics of timing and little details, but is completely fluff. But it is fun. John Cusack is cute. Interesting that his fiancee in the movie looks kind of like Kate Beckinsale, and hers looks kind of like him. Hers is reminiscent of the unhip world-music loving boyfriend (I. Ray) from HiFi, except more extreme - he's actually a new age/world musician, playing this goofy looking oboe thingy. And his "big hit" is actually a Mint Royale tune, with the oboe thing laid over top of it. Hey, what are they trying to say about Mint Royale? As for "The Man Who Wasn't There," I'm still not quite sure what I think about it. It was definitely enjoyable and engaging, but I can't tell how much we're supposed to sympathize with the main character (great deadpan Billy Bob), and what exactly the message is. Stylistically, it was impeccable. Some might say the style was the whole point, and it certainly works well as a genre/period exercise. The Coens are definitely into that. I'd like to see it again sometime, and talk about it.

So that makes seven movies in the last seven days. I hadn't been home for more than four hours, and I ran into at least two people I know. I thought as I sat down right before the first movie began that Caedra Scott-Flaherty and Toni Attardo were in the row behind me. And indeed they were, although Caedra left before I went to talk to them. I sat with Toni for the second feature; she seemed bubbly enough, was enthusiastic about both films. Her voice was scratchier than I've heard it. She sort of looked and sounded sick. Then when I was walking out I saw Mr. John Gabriele, piano teacher from SOTA, and one of my not-favorite people, with three other music teachers. I don't really have much to say in encounters like those, except yes, I am. So I walked home. I was going to stop in and see if Morgan was around, but her lights were off.

I intended to catch up here last night, after that, but instead I went downstairs and made some Annie's "Peace Pasta Parmesan," actually quite good and mild. I listened to Rae's mix and read her favorite book. The book ended first (it's only 88 pages.) It reminded me of the Snark-out Boys, and the Rutabaga stories, and Buses and Cameos. A little optimistic for her though.

if you dig vegan food
well come over to my work
i'll have 'em cook you something that you'll really love