This week has seen The Squeeze fiddling with a very old Mac - a blue and white G3 - for Crinks. It's frankenbox now as we've desperately scrounged memory to make it fast enough to run imovie. Thing is, it's a piece of shit that's not worth the plastic it's made of, so it's been kind of a struggle. But you know Macsluts - they can't let go of Mac crap. Gotta hoard it. In evidence: one of the little rubbery stops/feet on my ibook has fallen out. I hadn't noticed, but it's worrying The Squeeze.
At any rate, Crinks was overjoyed with her new digital freedom and asked what The Squeeze would like in repayment.
As I explained to her:
[with husking voice]: "One day I'm gonna come to you with a difficult proposition. And you will remember this."
Don Hamleoni can afford to be generous with the skills of others.
Tonight we went to see The Family Stone which I really enjoyed, mostly for the elder Wilson brother (I would marry those Wilson boys), but also because it provided me with some chick-slapstick. There's nothing I like more than women falling down. Followed perhaps by serious pathos. I laughed a lot at Claire Danes falling down some bus steps. More than anyone else in the crowded cinema. The Squeeze takes inordinate delight in my laughing inappropriately in the cinema - it's the naughty side of him. I blame my mother for my strange sense of humour. I can't help it. Puns, black humour, slapstick. It's the simple stuff I like.
I have continued our cinematic journey through Important Films We Haven't Seen, this week themeing them 'men movies', in honour of the Squeeze, who's been a bit poorly. The other week it was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which was great, and I caught part of Easy Rider on telly the other night, which I have fond memories of ("Have you got helmet?" "Yeah, i got a helmet").
I think we should get China Town out next, and then Mean Streets and The Outsiders because I want to get to Rumble Fish which I adored as a teenager.
This week there was Hunt for Red October (nothing makes a sicky bub feel better than a submarine movie - he regularly rewatches Das Boat in the middle of the night to comfort him when he can't sleep), followed by Godfather III, which did not please us as much as I or II, both of which we loved (though I wins by a nose).
Last night we watched Raging Bull. It took hours and hours, and we were a bit bored by the end. Sure, it's great and all, but still...
In other news, I have of late been susceptible to bouts of furious rage, usually in response to meaningless acts or events. Asking me to find out which film I'd like to see was enough to cause a mighty shouting and raging last night. The day before it was the garage clothes line's being canibalised for a party (in November). Yesterday it was not having the door answered when I demanded it.
The poor Squeeze is, for the most party, the hapless victim of this senseless fury. He is a walking definition of the word stoicism. If it weren't for the 'shut up!' voice and the dance of derision, he'd no doubt have murdered me by now.
I blame it all on thesis-completion anxiety and an overwhelming paranoia about my extension application.
Though it may also perhaps have something to do with all these gangstah films we've been watching...