Last night I stayed with Lulu again and she forced me to watch to movies. I hate watching movies. Still, she knows my taste and always has good recommendations (except for Big Fish, which she insisted I watch right after Dad died. Bad.)
The first was But I’m a Cheerleader, a surrealistic and amusing love story about a girl who gets sent to a camp to learn to stop being a lesbian.
The second, Wristcutters, was a love story about life after suicide: also surrealistic and funny. Tom Waits was brilliant. In one of my favorite parts, a couple romanced on a rocky beach by moonlight, fell asleep spooned, and awoke to realize they were lying on a bed of spent condoms and hypodermic needles. Another highlight was the suicide of the star. He gets his room all straightened and dusted and vacuumed and spotless, slits his wrists, collapses, and from the bathroom floor takes a last look around him. There in the corner, just out of reach, is the dust mote he’d overlooked. Then he dies.
Bwah ha ha.
Finally, here’s a picture I took this morning of Lulu’s back yard.
I think it’s time for me to get out of town.