yo yo yo yo yo. got my cast off today. can't quite pirouette on the right side yet, but... have been walking without my crutches maybe a third of the time. will improve, especially since i have a shocking green bit of rubber to do ankle exercises with. productive day otherwise too: showered (freestanding!), mailed off many copies of my ¡MiX!, talked to insurance peeps, purchased a coat, gloves, slippers, jeans, and an immersion blender (gift for wanakena), though no shoes.

oh mannn. cannn't stay up late doing this, i've gotta get up and go to the adx tomorrow. but let me say - there have been some lovely times of late. my last week in philly (pre-holidays) was invigorating - specifically, i want to say, last thursday, when things just felt so good. would it be ridiculous to say that the most joyous moment of my last week(ish) was watching a movie? by myself, in a theatre.

not sure, but bobby surprised the hell out of me [well, given its mediocre reception by the snuffy critics - i was rooting for it all along] by being absolutely, giddily thrilling. i can't remember a time a movie has moved me to grin so big, tear up, dance in my seat, with its generosity and warmth. (and its music and style and humor and pathos and relevance) i cried (and i really never cry at films) for the same reasons i got weepy at the u.s. v. john lennon, but several more beside despite the sprawling cast, with 20 or so characters all getting roughly equal screen time, i was fully caught up with and in each of them; a testament to many great performances and equally adept writing.

the movie's easiest flaws to point to are in the somewhat overdone montage sequences with voiceover clips from RFK's speeches - there are a few too many of them towards the end - but i feel (subjectively) like the film actually earned those moments, and i was perfectly content to go along and feel with them even as i had to wink at myself. weirdly, the speech he gave that night is actually not included, and instead is drowned out by "the sound of silence" (the acoustic version. which was sort of a cool choice.) otherwise, the movie is almost subtle in its handling of the inescapable, bittersweet dramatic irony that pervades the whole thing, never overplaying the connections between the storylines, but simply allowing their shared time and place, in history and in the world of the movie, be enough to unite them in an unspecific but meaningful way.

i especially liked freddy rodriguez' character, having just seen him in a somewhat similar role in 6 ft. under. also memorable were the acid trip set to "initials" from hair and the scene, set to "tracks of my tears" (!) that revolves around a discussion of anne bancroft's nudity in the the graduate (the scene opens with the camera on mary e. winstead's chest while an offscreen character says "her boobs".)

was it a great film? it's hard for me to say - except that i'm not sure how it could be otherwise - i think it got me personal way that goes beyond easy analysis of its merits, and there's not much better you can say about a movie than that. anyway. i highly recommend you go and enjoy it, and i just want to tell everybody because i'm afraid people won't realize how good it is.

is that really all i wanted to say, after a week-plus of blog silence? probably not, but it's what was on my mind at the moment, and now i think i better be off. catch ya in the noo year.

eva,
i'm sorry but you will never have me. to me you're just some faggy girl, and i need a lover with soul power.
and you ain't got no soul power.
no you ain't got no soul power.
no you ain't got not so-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh...