Spotlighting

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Gosh, do I ever love this train wreck, though not the actual train wreck part.  I wince whenever I hear her name in the news.  Bless her heart, I sure hope she works out the myriad issues she’s got going on in her very young life because, man, oh man, can she sing!  At once tender and sweet, yet old and wise, too.  I guess that’s what makes it Rhythm & Blues.  Sometimes I play Back to Black on a loop, singing and dancing and dreaming of bouffant hair and thick eyeliner.  As a matter of fact, I think I’ll do that right now.  It’s pretty fine.

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This is the second of the three films I was so giddy to see at the Hollywood Theater.  I went solo on Monday night and was thoroughly enthralled by the picture.  Tom Ford got it right, boy did he ever.

An aside before I write further about the film.  I love Tom Ford.  He is smart, sexy, thoughtful, and has a magnificent eye.  He was born in Texas, but was raised in Santa Fe.  Another aside, here.  Santa Fe is the capital of New Mexico, which is one of the fifty states of the U.S. of A, not part of Mexico.  I say this because my Mom, knowing of our fondness for the Land of Enchantment (see posts I, II, III), bought us a subscription to New Mexico magazine.  On the last page of every issue are stories relating how people mistakenly believe New Mexico is not part of the United States and deny citizens and visitors of that fine state insurance coverage and package delivery, among other things, because these services aren’t provided “outside of the country.”  Talk about shock and awe!  Don’t we learn the fifty states in elementary school?  How about taking a glance at a map?  Come on people – get with program.  It’s really not that difficult.   Getting off my soapbox and back to Mr. Ford.  Anyone with his combination of  provenance, fine looks, good humor, and talent  rates pretty highly in my book.

As for the story, it follows George Falconer, played by the dapper and oh so right Colin Firth (those glasses!), as he moves through what he plans to be his final day on earth.  Rocked to the core by the loss of his partner of sixteen years eight months previously, George is unable to cope with life.  The void left with the loss of Jim is insurmountable, rendering the world dull and lifeless.

Ironically, it is his decision to take his own life that brings color back into his world.  George’s senses are heightened, taking in details for what may be the very last time.  The eyes of strangers and colleagues at the college where he teaches, the scent of a woman, the color of her lips, the musculature of a tennis player, the brilliant pink of the sky at dusk.  It is all quite beautiful and new to him.

Then there are the memories of Jim, the harshness of a world unaccepting of gay men, and the desire to connect, with truth and honesty, to another human being.  Lovely.

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There’s been a lot of dying happening in the world lately, earth quake victims in Haiti, avalanche victims in Afghanistan, and on a more personal level, a dear, sweet neighbor and a kindly mother-in-law (my cousin Allie’s).  When someone dies, particularly someone I have known personally, it always creates a flood of memories of  other endings, not necessarily passings into the great hereafter, but of broken friendships and hearts, dreams and hopes dashed, too.

In the past, I would suffer these rushes of memory like one would an awful interloper, with little degree of kindness or patience.  I do not want to feel melancholy, for it is not the desired state, happiness, always happiness!  However, now, I have come to a new place about grief and memory, or any feeling really.  It arises naturally and will pass, too.  There is no need to fret and even a possibility of enjoyment.

Like thinking of the first person I remember dying, my Great Grandpa Briggs.  He was a silent one, so much so that I scarcely have a memory of him speaking, but I do remember his mischievous smile, his cigar smoking, and the fact that he walked me to the Western Motor Lodge near his home to buy me candy.  Or my Great Aunt Mary, there’s so much I remember about her: a kind voice, boundless generosity, the deepest faith I have ever known, mad crochet skills, the papery softness of her hands, and her beautiful penmanship.  Though I feel a little misty thinking about the two of them, these memories are small gifts of their continued presence in my life.

With all of this in mind, I crafted a playlist, one perfectly suited for honoring my time with grief, like curiously watching a stream from on high, the ebb, flow, and rush.  It is long, but not overly so, with a bit of sunshine at the end.

Nico – “These Days”

Neil Young – “The Old Laughing Lady”

My Morning Jacket – “Knot Comes Loose”

U2 – “Scarlet”

Sting – “Fragile”

Sinead O’Connor – “I am Stretched on Your Grave”

The Rolling Stones – “As Tears Go By”

Philip Aaberg – “Cinema Paradiso”

Peter Gabriel – “I Grieve”

Nina Simone – “I Loves You, Porgy”

Willie Nelson – “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”

Feist – “The Limit to Your Love”

Eurythmics – “This City Never Sleeps”

Elvis – “Love Me Tender”

Elton John – “Goodbye”

The Dream Academy – “Life in a Northern Town”

Crosby, Stills, and Nash – “Helplessly Hoping”

The Counting Crows – “Sullivan Street”

Coldplay – “Sparks”

Bombay Dub Orchestra – “Sonata”

Bob Dylan – “Tomorrow is a Long Time”

Bjork – “Come to Me”

Bill Withers – “Ain’t No Sunshine”

The Beatles – “Blackbird”

Amy Winehouse – “Love is a Losing Game”

Tom Waits – “San Diego Serenade”

Tori Amos – “China”

Genesis – “It’s Gonna Get Better”

Shawn Colvin – “Ricochet in Time”

The Talking Heads – “This Must Be the Place”

The Who – “Love Reign O’er Me”

Happy Friday, dear readers!  Hope you had a lovely week.  Mine was up, down, and sideways, but mostly down, to be honest.  Even though I stopped taking the post-surgical hormones two months ago, I still feel funny, not to mention heavy.  I gained fifteen pounds and have not been able to shake it, despite my pretty rigorous routine.  A serious bummer but all part of my endometriosis education.  It goes a bit like this:

1. Suffer serious pain

2. Suffer mental anguish at the fact that the pain is disregarded by a couple doctors (NOT Petra Caruso – she’s the tops), and, despite myriad efforts over ten years, does not lessen.

3.  Deliver shock and awe over the severity and complexity of my case to a specialist dealing in these problems for more than thirty years.

4. Have fallopian tubes, the right ovary, uterus, and innumerable adhesions removed in a 6 1/2 hour surgery that was only meant to be two.

5. Lose so much blood in the process that standing for more than a minute on my own will be an event weeks in the making.

6. Take massive doses of progesterone to keep the endometriosis at bay while suffering through eighteen unpleasant side effects, including uber moodiness, headaches, sleeplessness, and the aforementioned weight gain.

7. Realize, holy smokes, this suff is hard, and depressing, and crappy, a real emotional roller coaster, and it isn’t over yet.  I’m really ready for it to be, really, really.

On top of this, one of my great pleasures, as you well know, is going to the movies.  Unfortunately there’s been a serious dearth of good films to see at the theaters I frequent.  I can’t even remember the last time I was at the Academy.  So, with all this in mind, imagine my delight, more like giddiness, when I saw that the Hollywood Theater had not one, but THREE movies this little lover of cinema was pining to see.  I went into paroxysms of glee people.  Glee!  I would have my friend Bridget attest to this fact, for she was on the other end of the phone at the moment of my great discovery, but she is a little shy of the blog, so you will just have to take my word for it.  I’m as honest as Abe.

One more bit before the movie, and yes, I do know I’ve gone on.  The hubster was going out of town for a couple of days on business (to Napa! Fine food, wine, and learning), so we decided to make a little date night of it.  We tried the new Foster Burger and enjoyed it quite a bit.  I had a ginormous wedge salad with fresh herbs, apples, blue cheese crumbles, and a crazy piece of pork belly fried in duck fat, light as air and oh my, my, ooh la, la!  The hubster had the expected burger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake, which he shared (I shared too).  All was good – the food, convivial service, and music on the hi-fi.  We’ll be back, definitely.

Of course, the movie was the icing on top.  It follows Jenny (a girl who reminds me an awful lot of myself at that age), a sweet, smart, and occasionally sassy girl on the verge of turning seventeen.  She’s a Francophile with a serious love for music, art, literature, and cigarettes.  Though she has someone who is sweet on her, she finds him boring, and is swept off her feet by a man who is probably twice her age.  He possesses everything she desires: culture, intelligence, good looks, and an impressive car to boot (a gorgeous Bristol 405, gulp), as well as some other dubious characteristics she is willing to overlook.  He delights her, spoils her, and takes her places no one else can.  All with her parents permission, I might add, for they are just as smitten as she.  As their romance progresses, Jenny questions the worthiness of an education over spending her life married to someone so worldly, raising some pretty interesting questions in the process.  Very well done.

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If you’ve learned anything about me these past months (holy smokes – I’ve been blogging nearly 24 of them!), I am drawn to the odd, quirky, and kooky.  I often do not like what others like.  I did not like Titanic.  I will not see Avatar.  I don’t care how freaking fantastic the special effects are, the story just doesn’t interest me, and if I’m going to sit in a theater for 150 minutes, I better be interested.  Don’t get me wrong, either.  I love a blockbuster: Superman, Spiderman, X-Men, and all the Bourne movies are terrific.  The latest Star Trek had this frugal gal and the hubster so jazzed that we forked over big bucks to see it on a gigantic screen.  We were not disappointed, either!

But, for the most part, these are the kind of stories that interest me – everyday life with a twist.  They are usually a little bit funny, a little bit sad, and very interesting.  You know that though.  So I guess, I should say, here’s more of the same from me.

A lonely German woman makes a new life for herself after leaving her husband on a trip to Las Vegas.  With her tenacity, strong coffee, and kind ways, she befriends Brenda, the curmudgeonly woman who runs the cafe and motel where she is staying, all the while breathing new life to the place, magic, if you will, and into the lives of all around her.  This is one of the first movies the hubster and I rented together.  The theme song has always stayed with me.

Joe Morton (from Terminator 2: Judgment Day – a James Cameron film I liked) plays an escaped slave from, you guessed it, another planet.  Mute and possessing only three toes on each foot, he is otherwise human.  He lands, quite appropriately, at Ellis Island, and ends up in Harlem where he befriends the regulars of a bar and is helped to get a job for fixing an arcade game with his magical healing powers.  He need only touch an object or person and all is well.  His real troubles begin when he is chased by two very cat-like bounty hunters in black (director Jon Sayles and David Strathairn).  A great film about race, slavery, and the modern drug problem (through the lens of 1984).  This may take the cake in the odd category.

Despite being a brilliant Ivy League graduate, and much to her parents confusion and consternation, Jaye Tyler has chosen to live a rather aimless life in a trailer and work at Wonderfalls, a gift shop adjacent to Niagara.  When a deformed wax lion suddenly speaks to her, her life takes a drastic turn.  She listens, heeding the instructions, not only of the lion but to an ever increasing number of objects, flamingos, a ceramic cow, a brass monkey, taking her on wacky adventures that change lives, including her own.

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