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2000-06-20 I was bad. Again. I was supposed to come home and work. That's the reason the Boyfriend drove me all of six blocks back to my house, and to my car, and back home after I moved it. That was supposed to be the deal. All work. No video games. No Web surfing. Zeee-row. Work. But I was bad. It got late, and little work had been accomplished. We had gone to see Beat at the Castro Theatre for the 24th Annual Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. For the past two years or so, we've gone to see about six or eight movies or presentations together during the ten-day-run of queer films. It's good; I usually don't see that many movies during the entire rest of the year. Beat was decent; a dramatization of William S. Burroughs' (Kiefer Sotherland) affair with a man, and his wife's (Courtney Love) life, friends, family and events leading up to her infamous and eventual death in a drunken game of William Tell with her husband. (I briefly debated if that would be considered a "spoiler"; I concluded it was no more a spoiler than saying the boat sank in Titanic.) Surprisingly, Courtney Love didn't bother me; she played the right balance between detachment and devotion. Not surprisingly, Kiefer Sotherland was less convincing as Burroughs -- I mean, what a pair shoes to fill! Burroughs was larger than life while he was alive. Any of the trademark Burroughs mannerisms would seem like a parody (or an affectation), given their frequency of parody (and affectation) today. But I felt most for the portrayal of Allan Ginsberg (Ron Livingston) as the best-friend who knows he'll never get what he wants. (Funny, but I identified best with the queer character. Go figure. [smirk]) It looks like this week and will remain at a fever pitch for both work and home. I thought my parents were coming up on Sunday. They didn't. Nor have they called -- of course, neither have I. Bad kid. You didn't even call dad on Father's day? Bad. I got distracted on Sunday when they didn't show up,and it was 10:30 before I thought about calling again. Sent dad an email at work. That concept -- Dad has email -- still frightens me. Mom with email was a little strange at first, but she's a technophile. Dad likes to watch football and listen to talk radio. He was a butcher for years. He has a routine for bed. He gets insomnia and watches old tv reruns late at night. Dad having a net connection at work and an email address doesn't fit into that mental picture of who he is. But I think it's kind of alien to him too. I've only got about two pieces of mail from him ever -- I still don't think he's in his office much. Somehow it's gotten to be one o'clock today and I haven't accomplished half of what I wanted to do this morning. Oh well. But I did get email and voicemail from a friend in Chicago I've been bad at keeping up with, to whom I'll probably give this URL (Hi!) because apparantly I seem to be better at telling everyone in the world what I'm doing instead of my friends and family. Ah well. We're all fuck-ups sometimes, for some things. That's life. _Casey
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
