Category Archives: movies

The Inconvenient Truth About Woody Allen

Indeed. Photo by me.

Indeed. Photo by me.

Dylan Farrow, Woody Allen’s adopted — I hate to even make the distinction, but I know if I don’t include the word “adopted” people will jump on me, as if the word “adopted” makes everything better — daughter, recently came out with an open letter detailing the sexual abuse she suffered under Woody Allen when she was 7 years old. Before I get to that, I think it’s important to provide some historical context. Though Woody Allen was accused of molesting his daughter, Dylan, in 1992, it went largely ignored compared to say, Roman Polanski’s crime — people heard about it, and knew about it, but didn’t really react like they did with Polanski. At the time it happened, Vanity Fair did a long story, detailing accounts by Maureen O’Sullivan, Mia Farrow’s mother, who says she saw inappropriate activity like Allen rubbing sunscreen where he shouldn’t:

One summer day in Connecticut, when Dylan was four and Woody was applying suntan lotion to her nude body, he alarmed Mia’s mother, actress Maureen O’Sullivan, and sister Tisa Farrow when he began rubbing his finger in the crack between her buttocks. Mia grabbed the lotion out of his hand, and O’Sullivan asked, “How do you want to be remembered by your children?” “As a good father,” Woody answered. “Well, that’s interesting,” O’Sullivan replied. “It only lasted a few seconds, but it was definitely weird,” says Tisa Farrow.

A baby-sitter also had her own strange account:

Dylan was on the sofa, wearing a dress, and Woody was kneeling on the floor holding her, with his face in her lap. The baby-sitter did not consider it “a fatherly pose,” but more like something you’d say “Oops, excuse me” to if both had been adults. She told police later that she was shocked. “It just seemed very intimate. He seemed very comfortable.”

Dylan told her mother that her (adopted) father, Woody Allen, had sexually abused her. Although the whole thing turned into a horrific media circus, it would have been so much worse had the internet exploded around that time. What most people remember about Woody Allen from the 1990’s is that he had an affair with, and went on to marry, girlfriend Mia Farrow’s (adopted) teenage daughter Soon-Yi. He seemed completely bewildered that people were so upset about his actions. Here are some excerpts from an interview with Time magazine, in which he famously said, “The heart wants what it wants”,

Q. Your movies always explore these types of emotions and motives. You must have sat up one night and thought about the problems you might cause dating the daughter of a previous lover, a mother she doesn’t like?

A. I didn’t think about her not liking Mia. I did think that, well, she is the adoptive daughter of my previous girlfriend, but that didn’t mean anything to me. It didn’t manifest itself in any significant way. She was a grown, sophisticated person. She was raised in New York.

Q. You’re a guy who can find moral dilemmas in a broken DON’T WALK sign. Didn’t you see some here?

A. I didn’t find any moral dilemmas whatsoever. I didn’t feel that just because she was Mia’s daughter, there was any great moral dilemma. It was a fact, but not one with any great import. It wasn’t like she was my daughter.

Q. Did you ever discuss with her, “What is Mom going to think of this?”

A. Mom would have thought more or less the same thing if it had been my secretary or an actress.

Q. Come on!

A. There is a different psychodynamic here, without any question, but the difference is one of small degree. If I had said to “Mom” — it was actually “Mia” that she called her — I’m in love with my secretary, there would have been some version of the same thing.

(“Come on!” indeed.) On Saturday, February 1st, Dylan Farrow posted an open letter to The New York Times, asking the reader,

What’s your favorite Woody Allen movie? Before you answer, you should know: when I was seven years old, Woody Allen took me by the hand and led me into a dim, closet-like attic on the second floor of our house. He told me to lay on my stomach and play with my brother’s electric train set. Then he sexually assaulted me. He talked to me while he did it, whispering that I was a good girl, that this was our secret, promising that we’d go to Paris and I’d be a star in his movies. I remember staring at that toy train, focusing on it as it traveled in its circle around the attic. To this day, I find it difficult to look at toy trains.

[…] What if it had been your child, Cate Blanchett? Louis CK? Alec Baldwin? What if it had been you, Emma Stone? Or you, Scarlett Johansson? You knew me when I was a little girl, Diane Keaton. Have you forgotten me? Woody Allen is a living testament to the way our society fails the survivors of sexual assault and abuse.

Everyone caught up? Now, to get to my point. I am, or rather, was, an enormous Woody Allen fan. I found relief and solace in someone who was so talented and so much more neurotic than I am. That poster I posted at the top has been with me through 3 different houses and apartments. I have a vintage Annie Hall poster that I’ve had since I was a teenager. I loved Woody Allen. I loved his films, his writing, his whole persona. I heard about the abuse claims, but I thought they were just that — claims, made even more exaggerated by media hype and a resentful ex.

After reading Dylan’s letter, I can’t even look at his face. I understand how some people could. Some people can separate the artist from their work. I thought I could, but I’m starting to think that is impossible. The same person who came up with the witty dialogue in Annie Hall is the same person who molested a 7-year-old girl. He is the same person who still makes her feel like that scared little girl in an attic, unable to even glance at a toy train without feeling horror.

Let’s be honest here: this is a very inconvenient truth about Woody Allen for Woody Allen fans. It’s like when he first preyed on Soon-Yi; It was easy for me to reason, “Well, he didn’t actually adopt Soon-Yi and she wasn’t technically his stepdaughter either; he didn’t even live with Mia and it wasn’t illegal.” That was a very easy thing to do, and I did it. I didn’t even bother to read up on the story. I didn’t even know he took nude photos of a teenage Soon-Yi and hid them in his room. Being ignorant is easy.

It would be far easier to ignore Dylan’s letter, or to believe the piece written by a Daily Beast editor who supports Allen and claims he is not biased, despite the fact that he directed Woody Allen’s documentary and makes every appearance of being in his inner circle. It would be easier, though far more awful, to blame the victim or not believe her, though she has absolutely nothing to gain by showing her face and telling her story. It would be easier for Woody Allen fans to click the little “x” on Dylan Farrow’s piece and click the play button on a DVD player and enjoy their hundredth viewing of Manhattan (a film in which Allen’s character has a relationship with a teenage girl).

It’s easy to say, “it’s unfair of her to call out other actors, they had nothing to do with this.” It’s easy because we view actors as people who are above us. Who have rules that do not apply to them. Because, were Woody Allen the boss of a shoe store in a mall, everyone would be horrified and would congratulate Dylan Farrow for coming forward. If Cate Blanchett was someone who sold shoes in his store, we would say, “Come on now, you don’t need a job that badlyShame on you.” But we don’t, because Cate Blanchett is a famous actress, and Woody Allen is a famous director.

So while it’s far easier to ignore what Allen has done, I cannot. I believe Dylan Farrow. I believe that taking nude photos of his girlfriend’s daughter and then seducing her was wrong. I believe in the judge’s decision to take custody of Dylan away from Woody Allen and to deny him any sort of contact. I believe that something truly awful happened, and I believe that it is easier for Hollywood to celebrate Woody Allen and put Diane Keaton on a stage to accept an award on his behalf.

By ignoring this, we are turning our backs on that 7-year-old. We are telling her that we prefer her abuser’s entertainment for our enjoyment over her inconvenient truth. Is that really something we want to do?


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My June in NYC.
Hello everyone. I just got back from the incredible New York City. I used to live in Manhattan, I went to college there. And I really miss it. There is something freaking exceptional about apartment living in New York. I didn’t even want to leave my apartment. I could just take computer programming classes online but then I would be missing out on one of the greatest experiences one could have. The worst apartment is still magical compared to anywhere else. The cockroaches, the bathroom door that doesn’t lock, the uneven flooring – MAGIC. I had a shocking realization today that I’m poor, but before I was, I lived in a beautiful apartment building in NYC. It was on 5th avenue and 9th street, about two blocks away from Washington Square Park. It was the same building that Jane Fonda and Robert Redford living in in Barefoot In The Park, which I took screencaps of a few years ago, and have since lost. So just trust me. I wouldn’t give you any guff.

I love that movie because it’s about two beautiful people living in a “crappy” (the movie’s ideas of crappy apartments are always stunning) apartment and they’re in love and they’re struggling. They’re struggling because their building doesn’t have stairs. Because they’re poor. And in the movies, if your apartment doesn’t have an elevator and a doorman, you’re poor. Like Holly Golightly in “Breakfast At Tiffany’s.” She was a “call girl” and so she lived in a “crappy” Manhattan apartment without an elevator but with an incredibly racist “Japanese” neighbor. Whereas in “Rosemary’s Baby” you can tell that they’re rich because their building has an elevator and is basically The Dakota. I love the movies!

I think living with someone in a small apartment is the ultimate sign of love. Living in a studio apartment is a sign of love AND insanity. It’s just you, your partner, and all of your stuff, in a room. There is no escape and worse, you have to share a bathroom. That’s so much love right there. I hate sharing my bathroom. I hate sharing my stuff. True intimacy is sharing a bathroom, let me tell you, Internet. I remember reading an article where Catherine Zeta-Jones said that she and “Michael” had a great marriage because the secret was that they each had their own bathroom and I remember thinking, “How nice for you.” She also said, of their disappointment with winning a lawsuit that was $6 mil, “Six million is not a lot of money to us.” Splendid!

Do you live with your partner in an apartment? What’s your living situation like? Is there harmony most of the time or is it a secret battle that neither of you wants to admit? Do you have lots of cats? I do.


This post is a part of a series for UMoveFree, a McKinney Apartments and relocation service. All thoughts and opinions are mine, for better or worse.


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It’s Okay.

All right everyone! We are turning a corner! Happy days are here! I loved reading your confessions in the last post. Thank you for opening up with me. It reminds me that we’re all in this together. Everyone has a shared human experience. Unless you’re a psychopath (which I think is now called Antisocial Personality Disorder, but I’m not sure. Please feel free to correct me!) Is weird that I’ve always wanted to be a psychopath just to know what it feels like?

So anyway. I am dispelling my own belief that life is harder than it is easy. There is no reason why my life should be hard. I am going to approach all aspects of my life like I’m the luckiest person on Earth. What is luck anyway? Isn’t it just a state of mind? Because who ever heard of miserable people who are lucky? No. Luck and happy people have been tighter than Nicole Kidman’s face. We’ve established that everything sucks. But now we need to embrace the part about how it’s okay. Follow my lead. If you have to, tie a string around your wrist to remind you to be positive. Or buy yourself a Cartier watch, whatever.

Last night in acting class we talked about Keanu Reeves. We talked about how every role he plays is him getting lucky in some way or other. Keanu is “the chosen one.” And yet, in his real life, he is the most unlucky person ever. Everyone he has ever loved, everyone who is close to him, has died in some freak accident. Kind of like Kelsey Grammer. I think his sister was killed in a robbery or something and then someone else who was related to him was eaten by sharks. Sharks. But Fraiser’s life is pretty good. Sharks!

You just have to find what your thing is. Like our acting teacher told us that Tom Hanks’s thing was he always plays someone who isn’t prepared for something. “I’m not prepared to be a kid in an adult body.” “I’m not prepared to date a mermaid.” “I’m not prepared to become the poster boy for AIDS.” “I’m not prepared to live in a world where I have an IQ of about 56.” “I’m not prepared to be stranded on an island.”

(THIS IS ALSO THE BEST PARTY GAME EVER. Someone theorized that Leonardo DiCaprio’s thing is that he always has to escape from something. Feel free to play this game in the comments!!!)

What is your thing? What human quality is consistent in your life? What keeps popping up? Embrace it and use it. Maybe you don’t like what your thing is. But you don’t choose your thing; your thing chooses you (instead of “thing” our acting teacher calls it “myth.”) This whole conversation blew my mind. If you know who you are and you’re comfortable with it and you believe in yourself, there’s nothing you can’t do. You need to look at what you have and not lament over what you don’t. I’m not Charlize Theron and who gives a fuck.

Does it mean I’m “cured” from years and years of putting myself down? No. But it means that I’m going to view every day in a different light. Light! Not darkness! You are meant to have a happy life! You are allowed to feel good! You don’t have to doubt yourself! You don’t have to wait in anticipation for the hammer to come down! Good feelings bring more good feelings! We’re going to be okay, you guys!

We Are The Champions — Queen


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That’s The Power Of Love.

Who do these bitches have in common (aside from important people)???? ME!!

Is “Back to the Future” the most important film of the 80s? Of course not. IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT FILM OF ALL TIME.

My Lea Thompson Story:

It was another day at work in which I was probably trying to move things with my mind from behind the counter (because when it’s slow, what else are you going to do) when a woman in my glasses came up to make a purchase. They weren’t literally my glasses of course; mine were in my purse. But they were the same classic, I’m an artist goddamnit but I also love money Ray-Ban glasses. At the store we are required to ask for I.D. for any and all purchases. I asked this young looking woman for I.D. and when she slid it over I saw Lea Thomp– and then my brain went, “Oh shit, it’s Marty’s mom!!” and I blurted out, “Oh, I don’t need this, I know who you are” and gave it back to her.

She laughed and said, “I wish I knew who I was.”

I didn’t recognize you with your glasses,” I said. “I have the same ones! I just got them.”

She seemed excited by this and asked me where I got mine. “Lens Crafters!”

“They had them there??” She exclaimed. “I probably paid way too much for mine! How much did you pay, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I didn’t mind, but my brain pretty much froze. I’m bad with remembering numbers, I’m better with words/phrases. So I sort of stood there, saying “uhhhhh” and mumbling numbers, gradually getting quieter and quieter, like the Tin Man rusting. It was probably very weird. She cheerfully said, “Never mind”, trying to save me from myself.

“Sometimes I worry I’m not cool enough to wear them,” I said. She laughed and said something like, “I know right? But If I am, you are. Believe me, you are.” Then she went off on her way and I had to fight every urge to yell, “THAT’S THE POWER OF LOOOOOOOVE!!” as she left.

My Michael J. Fox Story:

Full disclosure: aside from Captain Hook, Michael J. Fox was my first serious celebrity crush. I have “Back to the Future” to thank for this. Then in middle school, “Spin City” came out and my love for him was only intensified. I watched all of his crappy 80s movies. Even the weird one where he and Sean Penn are fighting in Vietnam and Sean Penn rapes a woman in the jungle and MJF is like, “Wait what” and my naive self was like, “Wait what?”. In college our school had The Actors Studio and all New School University students were allowed to go to the tapings. I went to the MJF taping and watched James Lipton try to be stoic and say things like, “I own a cave in Malta.” (Seriously.) After the taping I waited out back for MJF to come out so I could tell him how awesome he was and how we had a friend in common (the founder of my high school) and etc but I waited at the wrong entrance. My friend Sean, who I always referred to as “Moondog” because he seemed like a surfer but wasn’t, told me that he happened to run into MJF as he was leaving and shook his hand. I said, “How nice for you, Sean” and quietly seethed. Surf’s up, bitch.

A couple of years ago I had an assistant job for a really nice director. I did things for him and his wife, like go to Fred Segal. It was on one of these Fred Segal excursions that I saw him. Michael J. Fox, chilling out max and relaxing all cool. I couldn’t even look at him, he was so awesome. I slid inside the store, made the exchanges, and then got into the bathroom to collect myself. “If he’s there when I come back, I’ll say something” I told myself. When I got out, he was gone.

But he wasn’t! He was sitting outside! I had to do it. I came up to him, trying really hard to turn down the crazy that I give off naturally.

“Hi!” I said. “Actually, we have a friend in common.” I explained that I went to the same high school that was founded by his friends. “Will you tell them I said hi? My name is Almie!” He was very gracious. I don’t know why I asked him to tell them hi, I hadn’t spoken to them in years. We talked about what good people they were. Then to make things even more dorky I added, “In high school, I won an award named after [one of the founders] for being creative or something!” I said that because I am four-and-a-half and carry Play-Doh in my pocket. But he was very kind and at least feigned interest. “What’s your name again?” he asked, probably to make a note to tell them that a very disturbed individual who went to their school accosted him in the Fred Segal parking lot. I told him, I think he said my name was pretty, but unfortunately I can’t remember most of what he said because the whole time my brain was chanting, “MICHAEL J. FOX MICHAEL J. FOX MICHAEL J. FOX” like the “Charge!” chant at sports events.

“I just think you’re awesome” I blurted out, before running to my car. I think he smiled and thanked me. I got into my car, tried to keep it together, because I really didn’t want to hit another car in front of Michael J. Fox, and before I left I waved. He waved back. Then I got on my phone (hands free!) and called my mom. She picked up and I screamed, “IJUSTMETMICHAELJFOXAAAHFREDSEGALAAHAHH” and she thought I had gotten into a car accident.

Having grown up in LA I never get psyched over seeing celebrities, but “Back to the Future” celebs will always be exceptions (same goes for ‘Twin Peaks” celebs). Is there anyone you flipped out over meeting or really want to meet?


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If Indie Met Disney.

I’m sorry but who were those assholes who said money can’t buy you happiness? It wasn’t The Beatles; they said money can’t buy you love, and I agree with that. But money can definitely buy you happiness. Think it doesn’t? Tell that to the women in Sephora. If I had money I would buy a tasty little Spyder like the one James Dean had. But unlike James Dean I wouldn’t, uh, crash to death in it. Don’t get me wrong — Alfie is my dream and he is everything I could ever want and I love him to death — Alfie being my Mini Cooper convertable. But a vintage Spyder 550 (or remake of one) would be something I might consider marrying.

If I had ridiculous sums of money I think another fun thing to do would put together an album of Disney songs as reinterpreted by Indie bands. You know. Just because I could. It would look something like this:

1.) Hakuna Matata (The Lion King) — Vampire Weekend.

This is perfect, right? You can already hear them singing this in your head, can’t you? Let Vampire Weekend inflict their stolen Paul Simon sound on Hakuna Matata because it would be so right.

2.) Part Of Your World (The Little Mermaid) — Girls

Have you gotten on the Girls train yet? Why the hell not? Tickets are free, there’s plenty of room, and there’s even a cute little dessert cart that comes down the aisle. This is what I’ve gathered from reading about trains, as I haven’t been on a train in a few years and it was more like a glorified subway car and I took too many xanax and slammed my head against the metal ledge on the window. Gosh I love Girls! “I’ve got gadgets and gismos a plenty” I can hear Christopher Owens moan. Girls isn’t made up of real girls but don’t tell me that they couldn’t convey the heartache that Ariel felt because they totally could.

3.) Theme From Disneyland’s Main Street Electrical Parade — MGMT

If you’re a fan of Disneyland you either find the Main Street Electrical Parade music charming or extremely irritating. If you’re a fan of modern music you either find the music of MGMT charming or extremely irritating. It’s a match made in keyboard heaven! Don’t know what the theme sounds like? Look it up! I’m sure it’s on youtube somewhere. Don’t make me do everything for you. I’m not your nanny. I never had a nanny. I had a Guatemalan housekeeper named Grace and she loved us. That’s even better.

4.) Colors Of The Wind (Pocahontas) — Bjork

Is this too obvious? OK tell you what. If you still need convincing I will do a quick little video of me as Bjork doing this song. I know, right, I’m like the drunk girl at a party who’s shouting to no one, “DON’T make me show you my boobs!!!!” and then takes off her shirt to the sounds of silence.

5.) Kiss The Girl (The Little Mermaid) — M. Ward

I like M. Ward’s version of Let’s Dance. If he can turn Let’s Dance into a haunting song about love and destruction and add seagull noises that actually only add to the strange beauty of it, think of what he could do with an already tender song about really wanting to kiss a girl, “floating in a blue lagoon”? Guys…I think I just fainted a little.

6.) Cruella DeVille (The 101 Dalmatians) — She & Him

I swear, I’m not even a huge fan of M. Ward but how perfect would Zooey D’s old time jazzy voice sound on this track? I say track because that’s what people in music say. I know this because I’ve seen Spinal Tap a few times. “We say, ‘Love your brother.’ We don’t say it really, but…” “We don’t literally say it.” “No, we don’t say it.” “We don’t really, literally mean it.” “No, we don’t believe it either, but…” “But we’re not racists.” “But that message should be clear, anyway.” “We’re anything but racists.”

7.) Once Upon A Dream (Sleeping Beauty) — Camera Obscura

I can already hear some of you muttering, “Oh, yeah, Camera Obscura, so indie, Apolcaypstick…for 2004! Lame.” To that I say, get back to fixing Lost, J. J. Abrams.

8.) Let’s Go Fly A Kite (Mary Poppins) — Charlotte Gainsbourg (with Beck producing)

With her perfect diction and almost wispy voice I think Charlotte Gainsbourg could make a fun, if eerie, production out of this. Why isn’t she stopping in LA on her tour? Why does she have to go to Coachella? Ugh, Coachella.

9.) I Won’t Say I’m In Love (Hercules) — Dum Dum Girls

I don’t know much about these here Dum Dum Girls but I love their latest album and I think their fuzzy beach rock would improve this already kick ass song that I maybe sing really loudly in my car. I’m thinking they would slow it down a little, stick a tambourine in there, and it’s a hit. On the blogs.

10.) Gaston (Beauty and the Beast) — ???

TRICK QUESTION there is no band/singer out there that would do justice to this amazing song. Can you think of one?


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We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes.

Remember that last post where I waxed poetically of the rain and the warm feelings it gave me? Yeah, I’m over it. I’m starting to go a little crazy. I only had work one day this week and one casting workshop and other than those activities I’ve been stuck inside this house. Cabin Fever is hitting hard and there’s no Rider Strong to keep me company, which sucks. However, there’s no flesh eating virus so I guess that’s a plus.

Are you in a similar situation? Are you getting stir crazy? You are not alone. Follow my lead and together we will cross the desert of ennui in an SUV with seat warmers.


Need I say more? Wait, yeah I probably should. Kanye West will always keep me amused. I love listening to his music but even more I love watching the wacky stuff he’s done and thanks to Youtube this is possible. I wish Don Knotts was alive so that he could be on hand to say, “Kaaaaaaaan-yeeee!” every time Kanye screws up. Who could forget this classic moment?:

What people forget is even before the glorious “George Bush does not care about black people” statement and Mike Meyers perfectly timed “The Office”-like reaction of shock is the moment before when Kanye first goes off script and Meyers is determined to stay on it. Thank you, Kanye, for telling the truth whether it’s about politics or Beyonce. To quote you from a few years ago: “If I don’t win, this award show loses.” Yes, yes how true, you delightful man.

Risky Ebay Bidding.
I have a list of favorite ebay sellers/stores (it’s all vintage clothing) and what I like to do is go through it, find pieces I really like, and put down my highest bid in hopes that someone outbids me. I don’t actually want to spend money but I do like picturing myself in the clothes. This is like gambling for me. Will I win and have to pay for it? Is there a bullet in the chamber?

Reading the message boards at imdb.
Some of the funniest greatest quotations I have ever found have been gleaned from the wastelands of user opinions on the IMDB message boards. Some examples:

(From the Mad Men boards):
“Pete’s far too self-involved to kill himself. He loves himself. That’s the last thing he’d do.”
“Suicide usually is the last thing someone does.”


(From The Jurassic Park boards):
“And the mother of all gaffes–the T. Rex INSIDE the visitor center! What did it do, crouch down and crawl through the front door? It’s 30 feet tall for God’s sake! I guess it’s one of those magic, teleporting T. Rexes.”


(From The “Blow-Up” boards):
“The fact that nothing gets resolved is my favorite element of this movie. Every time Hemmings discovers something he gets off track. Instead of pushing the story forward he has an orgy, instead of tracking down Vannessa Redgrave [he] goes to a concert, instead of taking photos of the dead body he goes to a pot party. Finally, when the body is removed, he forgets everything and watches college students play a fake game of tennis.”

Whoops, spoilers. Well, not really.

(From The Great Gatsby boards):

“F. Scott Fitzgerald was a big fan of Star Wars and was known to dress up as a Storm Trooper for Star Wars conventions.”

As I remember, someone asked why the Star Wars Cantina theme was played in the Great Gatsby film and thus this burn was delivered in response.

“Why is Gatsby great? [Because] in my opinion, Gatsby is an idiot, but apparently he’s supposed to be great, so can anyone help me out? What makes this guy great?”

I think it’s important to ask the tough questions.

(From The Kate Hudson message boards):
“I heard she broke up the Black Crowes when they met, a la Yoko breaking up the Beatles. But they’re back together now I think, the Crows not the Beatles, so I guess it didnt matter.”

I don’t know why I was on the Kate Hudson message boards either. And now, for my personal favorite:

(From The Man On The Moon boards):

“Andy Kaufman has made no public appearances since he died.”

Looks like somebody has a future as a publicist!

Contemplate Cleaning My Closet, Taking Out A Few Pieces, Staring At Them, Then Putting Them Back.

Looking At Old Photos Of Myself And Remembering The Good Times.
I remember you. You used to be so full of optimism. Or you used to be so full of pessimism but was very good at masking it with fake optimism. You used to take pictures of everything you did everywhere you went. Then that got trendy so you stopped. You used to cover your walls with photos of Marilyn Monroe and would read every book on her you could find. You used to write plays. Or start writing them, get bored and/or frustrated, stop, and write a new one. I remember you.

How Dark Is Your Dark Side — His Name Is Alive


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This John Cusack Thing Is Getting Old.


I got this letter from a reader a few days ago and it made me smile:

“I saw [500 Days of Summer] Monday and then stumbled upon your ThisRecording brain dump on the subject today (yeah, I know, the movie and that post are old news, but I’m just getting to it, so deal). And it’s true that the two events occurred independently of each other; the former being a product of Netflix and living with my sister and the latter a chance finding browsing ThisRecording after reading an Avatar review a coworker sent me (didn’t see that one, but the review was good).

My point here is the movie put me in a funk and then reading your take on the possible existence of that type of guy made it worse. I think guys like that can and do exist, and maybe you find yourself disappointed in discovering that the 20 something kind of nerdy guys that you meet just don’t measure up to the J G-L standard because you’ve been misidentifying them in the first place. Where they actually good at something? Did they have dimples (you can’t undervalue the pleasantness of face with dimples, that shit works)? I felt like I had more to say but now I’m just tired. I hate Zooey Deschanel this week, and that’s hard to do to a person with such nice eyes. He never should have taken her to The Graduate, that shit makes everyone sad. Don’t give up hope and stop falling for rocker guys.”

This prompted my friend Dave to re-read my piece on types of guys and (500) Days Of Summer on (which you can read here: In Which There Are Two Types Of Guys if the mood strikes you, I don’t recommend it) which lead to a heated and friendly discussion about Lloyd Dobler vs. Tom/JGL:

DAVE: Tom from 500 Days is really that adorable? I mean, Lloyd Dobler-esque? I saw that movie, and sister, he aint no Lloyd. I think you’re confusing a well planned vest/tie combo with inner cute.

ME: Yeah, Tom is better than Lloyd, buddy. Welcome to 2010. The John Cusack thing is getting old.

DAVE: Holy shit.

ME: John Cusack is old. We want someone new.

DAVE: Is this the end of our friendship?

ME: Boomboxes are old. “In Your Eyes” is a shitty song.

DAVE: No it’s not, and it’s more recent than “This Charming Man.” [Note: Dave I don’t think anyone sang that Smiths song in (500 ) Days but whatever.] ALSO Lloyd is more proactive than Tom because he went out and got Diane.

ME: Wait it’s not Tom’s fault that Zooey Deschanel is a bitchface. Diane Court is better than Summer.

DAVE: What did Tom do [to win her over]? Sing a Pixies song at a bar?

ME: Oh please. If you’re going to go there, “Here Comes Your Man” is better than “In Your Eyes.” And have you seen Say Anything lately? I mean actually watched it? It’s not that awesome. It’s kind of boring. Frasier’s dad goes to jail. It’s a weird movie.

DAVE: I watched it a month ago. Also, I watched an Oscar screener of (500) Days and wanted to throw a brick through my TV.

ME: Oh excuse me Dave, I’m so sorry that your Oscar screener wasn’t up to par.

DAVE: It was my roommate’s!

Then Dave had to leave because he needed to video chat with his dad or something. I know, right? Whatever dude.

Anyway. My point is that this idealized vision of love as John Cusack personified needs to stop. Actually that’s not my main point. But it’s one of them. I think my real point is that I watch too many movies and I need to stop before something dangerous happens. (500) Days Of Summer may have been praised for being a “real” look at love in the same way “Annie Hall” was but they’re both highly stylized films and their depictions of love aren’t any more realistic than a Disney film’s.

Or something, I don’t know. Ask your mom.

Ooh You Hurt Me So — Clare and the Reasons
That’s All (Genesis cover) — Clare and the Reasons
Photograph — Clare and the Reasons


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