Tuesday, December 07, 2004

I went to a screening of The Aviator last night. I was exhausted and didn’t think I could stay awake through a nearly-three-hour movie, but I really enjoyed it. Best Scorsese film since Goodfellas. Cate Blanchett was hysterical as Katherine Hepburn. And Leo should get an Oscar nod, but unless another great performance appears in another movie, Jamie Foxx will win for Ray, though this was a better flick, in my opinion.

Biopics, man. Get me thinking. But about weird shit. Like, if I were rich and successful and famous, would I slip into some kind of self-destructive behavior, and if so, which indulgence would it be? Not alcohol; I can't continuously drink too much. I’ve tried, in a misguided attempt to emulate all those great writers... but it just dehydrates me and crapifies any creativity. Womanizing, I’m still trying... and that’s not necessarily self-destructive, depends on the women... I wouldn’t do drugs like Ray Charles, and I’ve already mentioned how I’m no OCD germophobe like Howard Hughes...

But the reclusiveness... yeah. I could see me doing that, retreating from the world and turning into a grouchy ol’ beardy-weirdy. Go away, leave me alone!

Oh wait, I’m not rich. Never mind. Let’s hang out, grab a cuppa joe. Wanna go see a movie?


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