--- Ah, Friday: the penultimate day to clean the house and do the
laundry. Even though I haven̢۪t been gainfully employed for three
years, it still feels like I̢۪m getting away with something by doing
the chores during the week instead of on the weekend, like all good
little yuppies. It̢۪s a weird feeling. It̢۪s like I̢۪m a burglar who
just stole something he could never possibly fence.
When I quit my job, it was took me quite some time to wean myself of
the notion I had to run around like a chicken with my head cut off.
Even though I had no need to do so, in the first few months of
unemployment, I found myself shoving my errands into a few hours and
driving myself insane in the meanwhile. It took about six months for me
to come down from the perpetual high of working my ass off and shoving
everything else into the free hours. Laundry? Eh, I̢۪ll stay up until
midnight to get it done. Cleaning? Shove that in the few free hours I
have between my scheduled shift and the one I had to pick up because my
employee couldn̢۪t find someone to cover it, and if that didn̢۪t
work, well, I was up doing the laundry, wasn̢۪t I? I could get it done
then. Bill paying? Write the checks and pray I can finally get to the
bank in time to cover them. After a few months of doing this still,
even though I had plenty of hours during the week to do these jobs, I
finally had to schedule myself. The week would go something like this:
Monday: laundry
Tuesday: work on manuscript
Wednesday: Bills
Thursday: more manuscript
Friday: clean
Saturday and Sunday: spend with husband
But, with one thing and another, I̢۪ve gotten off the schedule lately.
It seems as if I might have finally, three years later, gotten the
point that since I don̢۪t have a job, I can finally relax a wee bit
when it comes to the diligent schedule I had set up for chores. Laundry
now only gets done every other week. This has
happened—mainly---because I bought myself a boatload of underwear
this summer and I have no need to do laundry once a week anymore.
There̢۪s a bit of a lag between the husband̢۪s need for clean shorts
and my need for clean panties: the husband̢۪s still on the weekly
schedule in regards to his supply of fresh undies and I̢۪m not. My
solution to the problem: I̢۪m going to go and buy him more underwear.
We have plenty of clothes. It̢۪s not like we̢۪re lacking in this
department and one look at both of our overstuffed closets would tell
you that: there̢۪s no reason for washing every week. I̢۪m wasting
water. The bills, well, those I can̢۪t slack on, so they̢۪re still
getting done. Cleaning, however, is one I̢۪m slacking on. I̢۪m
working on it, however, as the Cake Eater Apartment is sparkly as a
result of my efforts this morning. I still feel as if I̢۪m getting
away with something, though. Must be that Catholic guilt showing for
not being gainfully employed and slogging through the weekend along
with everyone else. --- This thing is freaking cool---even
if it does take out the electricity later. You̢۪ve really got to enjoy
it when the headline advertises a “solar storm barreling toward
Earth” and yet we aren’t going to suffer any adverse repercussions
as a result. Definitely not the stuff of the movies, but pretty sweet,
nonetheless. As a former shortwave radio junkie, I feel for those who
are going to find themselves shut out today. If an increase in solar
winds can ruin reception, I hate to think of what this thing is going to do. Might just have to fire up my shortwave later to see how it̢۪s going.

--- Cheapskates.

Cough it up.

--- So, the question on my mind is: are you going to cut back on the brylcream, Pat?
Pat Riley̢۪s hair has always fascinated me: those precise comb marks
are thrilling for some odd reason. But, some perverse part of me wants
to see him without all that goop in his hair---just to see what it
looks like when he wakes up in the morning.
I̢۪m sure he̢۪d appreciate not having a big ol̢۪ grease spot on his
pillowcase anymore, too. Let that mop fly free, Pat. Show us that you,
too, can have a bad hair day.
I know, completely unrelated to his quitting as head coach of
the Heat, but hell, it opened the door for me to write about his hair,
and it̢۪s my blog: the hell with having to make this thing coherent.
--- Movie Reviews. And they̢۪re very late. We watched these over the
weekend, and I keep getting sidetracked from writing them. The Matrix: Reloaded

You were expecting something else, perhaps?

The husband is aMatrix
junkie. If you didn̢۪t read his essay from last week, perhaps you
should go into the archives and dig it up: it will give you a clue as
to just why he loves these films. It̢۪s odd, I know, but he loves philosophy. When the original Matrix
came out, he was just blown away. He went to the theater again and
again; when the video came out, he couldn̢۪t have it quickly enough.
And while he loves the special effects, the plot, the action, it̢۪s
the who am I? what defines me and makes me human? fate v. free will, questions that really excite him.

We saw Reloaded
in the theater on opening day: we̢۪d bought our tickets earlier in the
week. Then we saw it the next day, too, and again a week after that.
Since I was in Florida when the movie was released on DVD, I completely
expected him to have already bought it and watched it a few times by
the time I returned. Not so. He waited until I got back, which I
realize had to be the supreme sacrifice for him, and I appreciated it.
When the film was originally released, the critics didn̢۪t exactly
trash it, because they knew it was good, but they didn̢۪t trumpet it
either, like they had the original. They said things like remember,
there̢۪s another one coming out, it wasn̢۪t made to stand by itself;
it̢۪s not as coherently written as the original; the action outweighs
the philosophy aspects and on and on. Well, I can see where
they̢۪ve got a point, but I simply think the reason they didn̢۪t
trumpet the film is because they didn̢۪t get it. Now, there̢۪s
nothing wrong with that, I will add, but just because the original was
Philosophy 101, wrapped up neatly and decorated prettily with a bow,
doesn̢۪t mean Reloaded
wasn̢۪t as good because it wasn̢۪t as easy to understand. Honestly,
kids, everything got better in #2: the special effects, the fight
sequences, why shouldn̢۪t the internal conflicts have gotten any
better, as well? Why shouldn̢۪t---since the audience had successfully
passed Phil 101--- the writers have pushed the audience any further in
understanding the philosophy behind it? If The Matrix was Phil 101, then Reloaded dumped you into the three-hundred level classes.

You̢۪ve already made the choice, you̢۪re here to understand why you made it.

I adore the Oracle. She was my favorite minor character from the first: she was just so
not what anyone was expecting: a grandma baking cookies, lighting up,
and handing out oblique advice simultaneously. And she is the key to
understanding where Reloaded and Revolutions are going, or so I believe. After watching Reloaded
the first time, we went home and I popped the DVD of the original in,
watching the original scene with the Oracle. Went to see Reloaded again, and bam! I got it.

This isn̢۪t to discount the Merovingian (best line from Reloaded:
“Don't you love the French language? I have sampled every language,
French is my favorite. Fantastic language. Especially to curse with.
Nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard
d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your ass with silk, I love
it.” ), the Keymaker or the Architect, but the key is the Oracle.
Everything else about this movie kicks ass. I don̢۪t like making
predictions, but I do believe everyone who said huh? at the end of Reloaded will finally get it at the end of Revolutions.

--- We also rented The Italian Job
this past weekend.
What a fun movie. I̢۪m a fan of the heist genre. I love watching
thieves steal things: it̢۪s good fun and it gives you that vicarious
thrill of a job done well, but illegally. Mini̢۪s race all over the
place; a hacker takes over L.A. traffic control and manipulates all the
green lights (a spectacular fantasy sequence for ANYONE who̢۪s ever
driven in L.A.); the plot was good; and the minor characters were fun.
Seth Green amuses yet again; Jason Statham is gorgeous, as usual; Mos
Def looks like he has a ton of fun blowing stuff up; and Marky Mark and
Charlize are fab as well. Everyone looked like they had a good time
making this movie and the result was that the audience had fun as well.
The only disappointment was, amazingly enough, Edward Norton. They
didn̢۪t give him nearly enough to do. His character bored me, but upon
further reflection, maybe that̢۪s the point. His character was tagged
as “having no imagination,” hence he was being “the actor” and
really getting in the character by being completely unremarkable.
Anyway you cut it, though, it didn̢۪t seem like a role Edward should
have signed up for: anyone could have done it. He should have saved his
talent for something else. But this probably helped pay for Frida. And then Salma dumped him. Poor guy.

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