Look what I found!

An old blog that I never finished. Wrote a song about. Like to hear it? Here it go --

Boston: A City Where Dreams Come True...

...if your dream is to be a big ol' whore. And, of course, that is my dream, so hitting Bean Town (among other things) this weekend was a success. Thanks, molasses! And thank you, Christopher Richards. And, hell, while I'm at it, thanks to the city of Adams, Mass., for its strapping, young bucks.

Winter has officially set in here at not-so-scenic New York, NY. Today I woke up to the beautiful scrape-scrape of snow clearing outside my window. I wouldn't have even woken up this morning, but apparently Morris Communications isn't as racist as I thought and does, in fact, celebrate MLK's birthday. So when I walked confusedly into a dark office this morning, it was a nice surprise that no one was in fact there. Whoops! And all that complaining this weekend about my bunk GA employers for nothing! However, it was a good surprise that I got to leave and go do some stuff, por ejemplo, buy the Garden State and Sex & the City DVDs that I've been too cheap to buy at Virgin Mega. Also, I made my bed -- long in the coming-- and washed my clothes -- ditto -- and went to see House of Flying Daggers, which was damn beautiful, a little out of control plot-wise, and very good on the whole. Though The Sea Inside took home the Best Foreign Flick at the Golden Globes, I wouldn't count out the beautious renderings of Yimou Zhang (i.e. the guy who directed Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon). However, I'm still gunning for Pedro Almodovar, who (for some reason) got overlooked for BFF at the ----

And that's where it ended (2 months ago)...

**insert Wayne's World-esque diddly-doos now**

Since then...

I've continued to spread my love (and legs) for the likes of Pedro Almodovar and all of his beautiful expressivity. Not in actuality, mind you, but I would. I'm talkin' to you, Gael -- ya little scrappy manboy. Come here now.

Pedro, as I mentioned got overlooked at the Oscars for Best Foreign Film (damn you Spanish Academy!). Saw A Very Long Engagement, and it was frigging stunning. Also saw Finding Neverland -- delightful, charming, tear-inducing **cough-cough Johnny Depp is so sexy cough cough** et al... and Million Dollar Baby, or as I like to call it, Million Dollar Bunk: Why the fuck didn't Clint Eastwood kill ME at the end of this movie? I tell ya, Hilary got off easy. And won an Oscar. Seriously, what's that?

Oh yeah, and while I was on my movie rampage, there was a particularly harrowing experience at The Wedding Date (don't ask). It's a 10pm movie on Saturday, which I mistakenly think might be a little less crowded than the 8pm movie (plus I was just too lazy to get my butt off the couch before that). I'm sitting somewhere near the middle of a row in the back of the theater. Somewhere between the 27 commercials about silencing your cellphones ("Silence is golden!TM) and the start of the movie, this hosebeast (you'll seen see why) directly behind proceeds to answer her ringing phone and commence a conversation. As I start to torque my head to give the requisite disapproving glare, bitch gets all up in my grill with the full on one-finger salute. Excuse me? What happened there? The movie continued to be a deluge of horribleness as Debra Messing's fictitious sister was a cheatin' floozy, which many people in the audience felt the need to express vocally, doing the whole **coughwhorecough** and eventually foregoing the cough to just yell "SLUT!" about 3/4 through the movie. Ummmm, okay. Did I go to the wrong movie? No? Can I just go ahead and claim emotional battery and get my $10.50 back?

Other than seeing nearly every movie possible in the last few months, I went to England, which was fun, but I can't honestly think of much to note since most of it was sleeping and theater. Did, however, get to visit Johnny Morgenstern in Oxford directly after the plane. Not the best idea, and I'm sure he would have loved to have actually seen me when I had coherence and a genial disposition about me, but what d'ya do?

Speaking of England, I have developed a sick, tawdry obsession with The Office. Love you Gareth Keenan! The bowl cut has never seen better days.

And I'm petering out because the hour of pumpkin-turning is fast upon me.

Check out joshuaradin.com and listen to "Closer"; it might be the best song ever right now. Ray Lamontagne's "Forever My Friend" is giving it a run for its money, though. Siiiiiiiiiigh.

Here are the Joshua Radin lyrics:
so, we're alone again, i wish it were over, we seem to never end, only get closer, to the point where i can take no more, the clouds in your eyes, down your face they pour, won't you be the new one burn to shine, i take the blue ones every time, walk me down your broken line, all you have to do is cry, yes all you have to do is cry.

hush my baby now, your talking is just noise and won't lay me down, amongst your toys in a room where i can take no more, the clouds in your eyes, down your face they pour, won't you be the new one burn to shine, i take the blue ones every time, walk me down your broken line, all you have to do is cry, yes all you have to do is cry.

photographs and brightly colored paper, are your mask you wear in this caper, that is our life, we walk right into the strife, and a tear from your eye brings me home, won't you be the new one burn to shine, i take the blue ones every time, walk me down your broken line, all you have to do is cry.