I'm sorry to hear of the death of Sidney Sheldon, Broadway producer, novelist, television producer, and a person who lived in my old neighborhood in Chicago (Rogers Park), if only for a short time. Definitely an inspiration: he didn't start writing novels until he was 50. Rest in peace, Mr. Sheldon.
We saw two movies last weekend: Catch and Release with Jennifer Garner, and Smokin' Aces, with a cast of thousands. The former was the story of a young woman who lost her fiance just before her wedding. He died on a fishing trip with his two best buddies, with whom she moves in when she can't afford the rental house that she and her fiance had rented before his death. Through the movie, she learns things about her fiance that he hadn't bothered to share with her, falls in love with one of his friends (who lives in California, half a continent away from Boulder, where the movie was set), and generally mourns the loss of the man of her life. Chick movie, yes, but a good story, and very funny in places. (For example, one of the buddies is the guy who picks out the sayings that go on the boxes of Celestial Seasonings tea, and converses in them.) The latter was a sort of "Mob hit" movie, in which the FBI is trying to protect a potential informant and the Mob is hiring people left and right to knock him off. Sounds fairly straightforward, but there are some interesting plot twists along the way, and any movie where Ben Affleck (arguably the biggest star in the movie) is killed off before the midpoint deserves a look. (I respect a big star like him for doing that.)
Also last weekend, we celebrated our 29th anniversary. We haven't killed each other yet. We always joke that it's not a marriage, it's a fight to the death, but I'd be lost without Mary. I'm lost without her when I go out of town for a few days.
Have been reading Joe Eszterhas's recent book on screenwriting, The Devil's Guide to Hollywood: The Screenwriter as God!. It's not lengthy discourse on the art, more of a gathering of very short stories, one liners, snarky comments, tips and tricks, and inspirational statements. It's very funny and very informative, and worth a read if you're at all interested in the movies. I find it interesting that he moved from Hollywood to Cleveland (where, I guess, he lived as a kid) because he didn't want to raise his kids in California, because, as he says, he's a refugee kid from Cleveland who loves his wife, his children, movies, baseball and America, and he wants his kids to grow up to love their wives, their children, baseball and America. He's made several comments in the book that would suggest that he's more on my side of the political spectrum than most of Hollywood. It's a great book so far; I'm halfway through it, and it reads really quickly. anderyn, you could probably read it in half an hour at Borders. Next on the reading agenda: the autobiography of Soupy Sales.
Work's been work. I'm happy to have a job, I just forgot how much work it is.
I go to the doctor this week and find out how much weight I've put back on. Believe me, I've tried to do a cleanse this past month and have had no luck at all. Last time I did one, it completely took my appetite away (which was a good thing). This time, same cleanse, I was hungry all the time and eating stuff that I shouldn't. She's going to yell at me. I probably need it.
And that's what's happening at this end. I did, however, discover a line in one of my old notebooks that I think best describes my philosophy of life: I don't care if your thing is fucking cars. Just don't come crying to me when you burn your dick on the tailpipe. I've got to work that into a story.