September 25, 1999
Not for the first time in my life, I find myself dwelling on the past a lot today. With the relief of making a decision about the job situation behind me, I'm last to my normal, more contemplative introspective state of mind and of course, that means that I'm indulging too much to overanalyzing my past.
What am I on this time? CTY.
Yes, this is of course related to the fact that Lance now has a journal and that I'm reading his stuff on a nearly daily basis. Duh. If one of your ex-boyfriends started writing an online journal, I bet you'd be off reading it too and it'd be stirring up your ancient history as well.
Except you probably wouldn't be sitting here staring moodily off into space, dwelling on the whole thing the way I am, reliving every little moment, wondering about could-have-beens and regretting your own youthful stupidity.
So that's been the off-and-on preoccupation on my brain for today in between some clean-up duties and stuffing my face with croissants that Sabs so kindly provided by going to the bakery early this morning.
I've also been rather bitchy and languid, feeling tired for no good reason and generally being impossible to be around. A quick look at the calendar reveals of course, that a ha, it's just about that time of the month again. Woo hoo. Raging bloody bleeding straight ahead. Oh what fun.
According to a book I read recently about women's "life cycles" studies have shown that women tend to be more introspective and "intuitively tuned" to their "inner selves" during their periods. Oh, so that's what PMS really is? Okay. I'll buy that. It's a much nicer way to put it than "Beth, you're being bitchy today, do you have PMS?"
Anyway, the weather continues to be gorgeous, reminding me also of school days long gone by and again I have a yearning to be back in school. Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to happen any time soon. We just don't have the money for it and I'm sure that I'm on American's black list of students by now. I've tried to make a payment at least once a month when the bill comes, but well, the rent is more important y'know?
Woo hoo, it's a month of constant Memory Movies! Yaaaay!
I made dinner tonight after flipping channels for way too long on the TV. I stumbled onto the SciFi Channel's Scinema Event of the evening: the pinnacle of David Lynch's career as a director, Frank Herbert's Dune.
I think that the best part of the film, is Sting, as Feyd Rautha stepping out of the steam shower in his itty bitty winged underwear. Oh and the actor who plays Stilgar. Great voice. Patrick Stewart, while good is a distant third to that as Gurney Halleck. Kyle MacLachlan was palatable as Paul and that little kid they got for Alia was perfect -- damn freaky. But the rest of the film is just so much trash. Missed the point of the books entirely IMHO and most of the soundtrack just makes me want to scratch my nails down a chalkboard.
We watched the whole thing anyway, strategically skipping the part where Baron Harkonnen pulls the plug (literally) on some poor young schlep Harkonnen, which is just too nasty for words and laughed mightily at the bad script, oohing and ahhing at the occasional successful f/x trick.
My aren't we jaded sci-fi/fantasy fans. Gimme The Fifth Element any day over this one. I just hope and pray that Peter Jackson doesn't mess up The Lord of the Rings, or my faith in the movie industry will be completely shattered instead of just mostly shattered.
At any rate, seeing the film inspired me to pick up the book again and notice all the places where the film went completely wrong. They didn't even capture the right feel for most of the places IMHO. But then again, filmmakers can't please everyone when they translate literature to the big screen. It's just that they seem to fail utterly almost 90% of the time. Rare are the good and reasonably faithful re-interpretations.
I think that my favorite book-to-screen rendition is still Stephen Frears' Dangerous Liaisons. He got the right cast, the right balance of history vs. costume drama, the right balance of literary elements with cinematographic exposition. That film feels like Laclos' novel brought to life, yet stands on its own as a masterful piece of cinema as well.
We'll see Mr. Jackson, we'll see if you live up to Frears, or bomb like Lynch. I hope and pray it will be the former.