There's just never enough orange juice in the refrigerator. Currently, there are two gallons. I know this shall not be sufficient for my thirst.
One of the things I really like about Anne Rice is that in her book Tale of the Body Theif, when Lestat is, for a brief time, transplanted into the body of a human, one of his most vivid, enjoyable experiences is a glass of orange juice.
Amen to that, I say. Amen . . . to orange juice.
My problem is that ever since I was little, I've had this thing where if I have too much citric acid, I tend to get these rather ugly sores on my lips. So I have to watch my orange juice intake. Although sometimes the threat of sores isn't enough to make me care.
I did a new page of Doll Merchant last night. I'm surprised I even did that much, I was feeling so extremely dreadfully zombily tired for some reason. I was too tired even to watch a movie, although I did. I watched Jean Cocteau's Blood of the Poet with my aunt. I'd watched it already a few days earlier but . . . I watched it again because it was good and thoroughly weird. My aunt said she thought Cocteau was being obscure on purpose, which I think is a rather simple-minded way of looking at it. Just because you can't understand something doesn't mean it's trying to confuse you.
In the end, I think she got the idea anyway. How couldn't you really? That movie's more succinct than the human mind is ready to comprehend.
I also foolish spent five dollars of what very little money I have left on Wild At Heart, a David Lynch movie being showed for one day only, one showtime only, at the Madstone cinema. I've not seen that movie in so very long as it's not yet been released on DVD and is out of print on VHS, and it was my first time seeing it in widescreen, not to mention on a movie screen. So the movie was very fresh for me in a lot of ways, which was great. I'd never before quite realised how good the sound is on that movie. When Sailor started beating up that guy at the beginning, the sounds of the hitting, of the electric guitar, and Lula screaming, all come together so startlingly well. One of the things David Lynch seems to do really well, if in frequently, is film really violent scenes of wish-fulfilment vengeance, as seen in Lost Highway's tailgating scene. How often I've wanted to do that to some asshole who's tailgating me. And how satisfying it was to see Sailor Ripley beat the shit out of that guy who was insulting Lula.
Originally, Trisa was supposed to accompany me to see Wild At Heart, but for some foolish reason, she preferred to stay home and study. So for much of the film, I was noticing this or that thing that I knew would have particularly pleased Trisa.
She and I went to see Adaptation on Friday, which was extremely good and, like Wild At Heart, starred Nicolas Cage. All in all, the past several days have left me with a rather positive impression of Nicolas Cage. Which I guess would be different if I'd watched Con Air and Face/Off instead.
Trisa and I rented The Good Girl on DVD starring Jennifer Aniston. The movie involved mostly two-dimensional, unrealistic and occasionally annoying and unintentionally amusing characters played by very good actors, caught up in a generally unoriginal plot that was oddly relaxing. The high point was seeing Jennifer Aniston's tits.
Trisa ran panicked from the house before she came in danger of seeing Friday's very wonderful episode of Farscape, one of the series' final three episodes. What a wonderful show that is. I think I'm falling in love with the female Scarran commander, who reminds me of the Duchess from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. The beginning of the episode featured a delicious somewhat S&M moment between her and Scorpius. Both characters are always dressed for such occasions.
By the way, if anyone ever wonders what I look like, here I am:
(created using South Park Studios' Create a Character)
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