Well, dear readers, we had quite a day here at haineshisway.com yesterday. I’m just going to say the following: There are bound to be days where stuff happens. It’s happened before, it will happen again. But, and it’s a big butt, it happens very infrequently. 97% of our three years plus on this here site has been sans stuff. The other 3% comes and goes and is nothing to get excited about. I shall now step off my soap box. Perhaps I’ll now get on my shampoo box. I will say that, despite some stuff, we had an amazingly amazing posting day, which, for the most part, was a ton of fun. I shall now get off my shampoo box and get on my deodorant box. I’ve already been on three boxes and the day is young, which is more than I can say. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too?
I had a pretty productive day yesterday – got a bit of writing done (getting to a really interesting part of the story now), did an errand or two, and had a lusciously luscious dinner with our very own Miss Tammy Minoff. She asked to see L’Appartement, the wonderful French movie that was turned into the ludicrously bad Wicker Park. I have now seen this movie three times, and each time it gets better. The most shocking thing is that its writer/director, Giles Mimouni, has not made a film since (the film was made in 1996). This is an amazingly assured first feature, with great direction, great acting, great music and great camerawork and editing – and the intricate script never cheats and lays out every beat of the story perfectly. It’s rapidly becoming my favorite film of the 90s (even though I discovered it in the OOs). If you have an all-region player get it. It’s available in the UK and in France, but I recommend the French DVD because the transfer, while not perfect, is much better than its UK counterpart.
I’m hoping it will not rain in the morning so that the pool man can finally clean the pool and get everything back the way I like it, pool-wise. I was not able to take a Jacuzzi last night, so perhaps tonight will be the night.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I need some more boxes to stand on.
I am now standing on my toothpaste box. Have you ever stood on a toothpaste box? Not really much point to it, but, you know, one must do what one must do. Conversely, two must do what two can do.
Today I must take a break at some point and go purchase the newly released DVD of Bunny Lake is Missing. I think there are also a couple of other things I need to get, but I can’t remember what in tarnation they are. By the way (BTW, in Internet lingo), I am now on my cereal box.
What else can I tell you? What else can I tell ewe? What else can I tell U? I can tell you, for example, that the world is a circle without a beginning and nobody knows where it really ends. What am I, Bacharach and David all of a sudden? I shall now get off my Stouffer’s Frozen Pizza box.
One thing I can tell you is that thanks to yesterday’s posts I have rediscovered my Buddah. That sounds nasty, doesn’t it? More importantly, I have rediscovered my Buddah’s aura. I haven’t been checking the Buddah out much, but I shall give it a smile whenever I go in to play the piano (which has been a lot lately, for reasons I’ll go into at a later time). I feel we should all rediscover our collective Buddahs, don’t you?
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, feel my Buddah’s aura, I must write, I must do some errands, I must eat a reasonable meal, and then I must buy a few DVDs and even watch one of them. Today’s topic of discussion: All our faboo movie quotes of yesterday got me to thinking – What do you feel are the finest screenplays ever written? Where the writing is just perfection every step of the way? I’ll start: North by Northwest by Ernest Lehman. Double Indemnity by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler (from James Cain). Psycho by Joseph Stefano (from Robert Bloch). Chinatown by Robert Towne. Rosemary’s Baby by Roman Polanski (from Ira Levin). Singin’ in the Rain by Comden and Green. The Court Jester by Panama and Frank. To Kill a Mockingbird by Horton Foote (from Harper Lee). Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and let’s do rediscover our Buddahs.