| Go on, go on, and scream and cry
You're miles from where anyone will find you |
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Marie Dubois. French New Wave hottie. I am becoming more and more convinced that they are the primary reasons for watching these movies.
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I relate to moving images of actresses because I can't relate to real women. Har har.
Shit son, I think it might be everybody else that can't relate with me. I feel as though my writing, both on here and elsewhere, is stagnating. I haven't had any new experiences in a while. Just old habits and psychic reruns. I want to hole up this weekend watching Felini movies, but that's more of the same old.
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I wonder if there's any possibility of reconcilliation at this point, or if I've truely let my worse demons take control of my past.
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| The first thing I thought when I saw the headline "Brown cancels Grammy apperance; arrested for domestic abuse" was "Who invited Bobby Brown to the Grammys?"
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Fucking genius.
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| I feel like listening to a few choice Gram Parsons/Emmylou Harris duets. Maybe it's the weather.
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Anybody a Bogey fan? Who do you prefer, his Sam Spade or his Phillip Marlowe? I'd be inclined to side with the former (he's more ruthless, more observant, and less intentionally charming), although I've always thought that Chandler was a better author than Hammett.
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