April 29th, 2006



Stayed up far too late last night. *sleepy eyes*

We went into Cork to watch "16 Blocks" yesterday. I liked "Inside Man". It didn't cheat. It was a good, solid, intelligent movie with decent characterizations and good actors.

"16 Blocks" blew it out of the water, in my opinion. Bruce Willis looked so awful he looked gorgeous, his physical acting was above and beyond anything I've seen out of him, his line delivery was so not-Willis that the five or so times he said something that *did* sound like Bruce Willis I was jarred. Some of those jarring moments were nothing more than a short laugh or a single word or an exhalation. The script was smart, and even the one scene that got further out of control than I would have liked had all the right elements in place *driving* it there, so I can forgive that.

Mos Def, as the convict Willis's character is supposed to get 16 blocks to the courthouse, is completely fantastic. The only other thing I've seen him in was "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", where he played a *perfect* Ford Prefect, so I was looking forward to seeing him in this. His character just _will_ not shut up through the entire course of the movie, but you kind of sympathize with the motormouth response to everything going on around him. The non-stop talk also makes for huge effect in the few scenes where he *does* get quiet.

There's also some fantastic cinematography, especially in the scene early on where everything goes to hell. It's another instance of silence being far more effective than sound. Some *really* nicely done stuff.

And, of course, it's also got David Morse, who I adore. (He is my Morrison. Somebody else can be your Morrison, but David Morse is mine. And, uh, no, the name similarity is not on purpose. I only just realized it when I was typing this.) Anyway. *Really* good movie. Go see it!

*laugh* I was wearing a t-shirt yesterday with a Batman symbol on the chest. When we got off the train, there was a man in front of us carrying a 3 or so year old boy, and he looked over his dad's shoulder at me and then his eyes got really wide and he smiled REALLY BIG and kept staring and smiling and then started saying to his father, "Batman! Batman!" and pointing at me. *laughs* That was pretty cute. :)

I guess I have to go to work now...

P.S. I've just gotten the Irish version of Netflix. Recommend me some movies! Lighthearted stuff especially (I don't like sophomoric humour), because I think I can probably find all the dramas I need, but movies in general! Please! :)
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Breic, a while ago, picked up the phrase, "Forget about it," only he said "Fuhgedaboudit." This was accompanied by a deep, soul-shaking sigh, a deep slump of his shoulders and the heavy hang-doggedness of a lowered head. Sometimes he would put his hands in his pockets, making the whole thing that much more melodramatic. (Then he would peek at you carefully, out of the corner of his eye, to see if his pathos had the desired effect.)

He stopped saying and doing this after not very long (the rest of the family, however, picked it up). Now instead of saying anything, he just slumps. And slumps. And slumps, until he's lying face down on the floor, boneless with existential misery. (And then he peeks at you carefully, out of the corner of his eye, to see if his pathos has the desired effect.)

You must imagine me in this same dissolvement of despair as I write this entry.

We could not get through to the cab company this morning, so instead of calling a cab to have it drive us to the pool, we set forth bravely on foot in hopes of finding it. I was pretty sure I knew where I'd gone wrong last time, and that if we went right (or left, more accurately) it would probably be fairly easy to find. And, in fact, it was. It was exactly where I thought it would be.

But it is not _finished_.

I cannot tell if it's newly built entirely or if it's being refurbished and having a leisure centre added on (I get the impression of the former), but whichever it is, that is *not* somewhere I can swim. There is no indication at all of *when* it will be done. It looks like it could be done in a matter of weeks, but I suspect that is just not the case. I am full of woe.

*peeks at you carefully, out of the corner of my eye, to see if my pathos has the desired effect*

There's a 20 meter pool in the Commodore Hotel, apparently. I guess I'll see about getting a membership there, though a 20 meter pool is, well, 20 meters. That's short.

Still, I had a clever plan! Iif Ted gets a job at the Quay Bar & Restaurant, which is about 12 feet from the Commodore, I can walk to work with him whenever he has to be at work, and just going into the Commodore and doing my swimming. That would make me about 15,000 times more likely to actually swim. So I hope the physical therapist tells him on Thursday that he can go to work, and that they hire him down at the Quay. :)