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May. 11th, 2014 09:08 amWas taken with the rememberable end of a surely lively night of dreaming after mixing an antihistamine/pseudoephedrine combo, the one downing the other's up, with some water-diluted rum for the cold sores on my tongue. But I was forgetting as quickly as I remembered, an effect they should have taken advantage of in Inception if they did not.
It was a Coen Bros movie along the lines of Inside Llewyn Davis and A Serious Man but what they were ambivalently trashing wasn't God or art but sex itself, as though remaking Upstream Color, but more explicitly referencing Donnie Darko and that movie with Brendan Frasier raised in a space-themed time capsule (Blast from the Past, my brain, bemused, produces), both of them representing attempts to evade sexuality that this new movie assures us must fail because even the paths to avoid are littered with mysterious doors, clues, stairways, urging whisperers who direct the would-be virgin in some weak moment down through a hierarchy of offices and exchanges via stern officials into a labyrinth of gaudily painted subways and elevators where wall films tout the lascivious sex act in crazed Peep colored implausible artifice, all designed to entice to the thing itself while hiding what it looks like, means, will lead to. Can't go back nor forth in time and the present is thoroughly cleverly mined. Mostly by curiosity, mystery, authoritative voices within and without. The actually witty stuff, the Coen stuff, is what recedes when grasped for. Alas as those were the fun parts, the ones that might have justified this entry.
Day content's clear enough, and all from television - some gross prostitute stuff on Deadwood, the sort of scene where you're out off of sex itself for a while, combined with a thematic suggestion on Hannibal that God gives us life for the same reason that he kills us - to prove to him and to us that he can. ("Altruistic punishment" comes up in the episode too, though in a slightly different context, but the phrase may have leaked for me into the sex/life portion.) Though we didn't watch it today, the latest episode of the Fargo TV sequel (!) is what brought in the Coens. Adam Goldberg and Jake Gyllenhaal were either both around or the same person. Probably both as well as stranger things: antihistamine dreams are as shifty as they are vivid.
I don't think I've had thirty unsick days since daycare started circa Jan. 15th. And of course a lot of those less-than-thirty were spent taking care of a sick, contagious little girl. Allegedly the season is passing as we speak.
It was a Coen Bros movie along the lines of Inside Llewyn Davis and A Serious Man but what they were ambivalently trashing wasn't God or art but sex itself, as though remaking Upstream Color, but more explicitly referencing Donnie Darko and that movie with Brendan Frasier raised in a space-themed time capsule (Blast from the Past, my brain, bemused, produces), both of them representing attempts to evade sexuality that this new movie assures us must fail because even the paths to avoid are littered with mysterious doors, clues, stairways, urging whisperers who direct the would-be virgin in some weak moment down through a hierarchy of offices and exchanges via stern officials into a labyrinth of gaudily painted subways and elevators where wall films tout the lascivious sex act in crazed Peep colored implausible artifice, all designed to entice to the thing itself while hiding what it looks like, means, will lead to. Can't go back nor forth in time and the present is thoroughly cleverly mined. Mostly by curiosity, mystery, authoritative voices within and without. The actually witty stuff, the Coen stuff, is what recedes when grasped for. Alas as those were the fun parts, the ones that might have justified this entry.
Day content's clear enough, and all from television - some gross prostitute stuff on Deadwood, the sort of scene where you're out off of sex itself for a while, combined with a thematic suggestion on Hannibal that God gives us life for the same reason that he kills us - to prove to him and to us that he can. ("Altruistic punishment" comes up in the episode too, though in a slightly different context, but the phrase may have leaked for me into the sex/life portion.) Though we didn't watch it today, the latest episode of the Fargo TV sequel (!) is what brought in the Coens. Adam Goldberg and Jake Gyllenhaal were either both around or the same person. Probably both as well as stranger things: antihistamine dreams are as shifty as they are vivid.
I don't think I've had thirty unsick days since daycare started circa Jan. 15th. And of course a lot of those less-than-thirty were spent taking care of a sick, contagious little girl. Allegedly the season is passing as we speak.
