Something Already.

First of all…I’d like to thank the people who have taken the time to click on a button and vote in my poll.

Second of all…23 people?! Piddly! Come on lurkers…vote or die!

Third of all…today is Modest Mouse day. Sometimes I pick an artist in my iTunes at work and just dedicate that day to them. So today is Modest Mouse day…which indicates that I feel like stomping things. Yes. But not in a bad way. Positive stomping. Yesterday was Interpol day…which indicates that I was mellow and introspective.

Something special: I’m going to enlighten you all a little today with something I learned. The Word of the Day today from Merriam-Webster is opmphalos, which means “a central point” or some junk. This is not interesting…but in the description of its origin, we find out that this word: …made another contribution to English via the word "omphaloskepsis," which means "contemplation of one's navel. Um. How fucking great is that? I finally know what to call a good 15 minutes of my morning ritual. Really THAT should’ve been the word of the day…not stupid old opmphalos. But that’s all I have to say about that.

So I’ve sort of got the Dictaphone working…but not well enough to post anything with it. There’s a lot of “what’s this button do?” and “Which end has the microphone”? Stuff like that. Non-gripping stuff. So you’ll have to wait for that for more gripping stuff. Just WAIT. God.

Speaking of music (before all this Word of the Day nonsense), there was something I wanted to say about that. Last weekend I finally went to see There Will Be Blood. It’s disgusting that it took me this long for the mere fact that I LOVE everything Paul Thomas Anderson touches. I still try to sell Punch Drunk Love to people. Sometimes they don’t buy it. And then I hate them.
I know I had to read some Upton Sinclair in school…I don’t remember which book it was, but it was about living in tenements and t’was very stark indeed. So of course I was excited about Anderson’s adaptation of Oil. And Daniel Day-Lewis was to be in it. A man I’ve lurrrved since middle school when I got my giant Last of the Mohicans poster and it stayed in a special spot on the wall over my bed until I was ridiculously teenaged.

Anyway, Marie, MM and I went to go see it at the pub theater on our third bottle of wine. What. It was a beautiful movie from beginning to end. The cinematography was haunting, the performances eerily moving and the soundtrack was second only to Psycho’s in the way that it helped guide your internal reaction to certain scenes. Seriously, at some points it stopped being music and just kind of turned into sound. Plot-driven sound. I can’t explain it...just see this movie. Dude was robbed of Best Picture; Coen Brothers be damned.

I will say that there were two moments where we totally lost our shit in that classic “third bottle” way. At one point toward the middle, the term “brother from another mother” is used. We collectively burst in a very…very quiet theater. And then…the last line was just gold. GOLD. But I won’t write it here and ruin it. Because I don’t ruin things. Not like other people do. I’m not like other people. Let’s just say that if you consider “I didn’t hate it” as a good review of Eastern Promises…you can consider “I fucking LOVED it” as an even better one for There Will Be Blood. And I’d totally go cougar for Paul Dano. He holds his own with Day-Lewis (and he has twice, if you’ve ever seen The Ballad of Jack and Rose). So of course that’s hot. Not quite as hot as Day-Lewis himself, but you know…those are big shoes of hotness to fill. Huge, really.

Uh oh…maybe it’s not Modest Mouse day…the Kinks have infiltrated.




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