Tuesday was a dense return to reality after a long weekend spent reading and writing heavily and watching CLOVERFIELD, THERE WILL BE BLOOD, CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR, and THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY, solid to crushing outings, all. Monsters. In cgi. And Daniel Day-Lewis. Jonny Greenwood's score was a rare treasure.
Worked at Catherine's office for a training, managed to sneak in 100 pgs of John Fowles's THE MAGUS (which should be called THE MINDFUCK-if Marvin Candle jumps out from behind Jacob's curtain at the end and yells, "Gotcha!" and all of LOST turns out to be one collosal Dharma Initiative psychological experiment, that about describes this novel) but then the funny thing was we had this party at the office at 4, so went from getting up at 7 and being on the clock all day to cleaning up at 4 and going over right into the middle of Catherine's office building and slamming Shiner and Heineken and cranking Radiohead's new one and good ol Shostakovich op. 40 and having a generally merry time until my bud and co-slammer got a text message consisting of the already-classic four-word phrase Heath Ledger Is Dead, which is of course ghoulish, and they were the first drinks I'd had in a wk due to the mad month already detailed below, so feeling good, and then we had to go cause Paul was coming over to watch episode 8 of TWIN PEAKS and we still needed to augment their Christmas present and Catherine had no idea what so of course I defaulted to WATCHMEN, right? if you don't have it, you need it, so stopped by Border's on the way and were checking out when a little bulb blew up over my head screaming January 22! and of course the new King was out, and what a great feeling to be standing there for a different reason entirely, having forgotten, and then seconds later to have hundreds of new pages from sai King in my hands, and the fella even said I had $5 in Border'sBucks, everything coming up Rob, stopped off to pick up some fresh Strawberry Rhubarb pie, made it home, brewed coffee, Catherine asked if I was going to take off my suit, get comfortable for PEAKS and I wish I would have said, "If I could chase a woodtick down my right pants leg pull up my bulletproof vest and then get shot in the gut by Josie, I would, so No." which is to say I empathize with that Special Agent and opted to remain dressed like him, but I didn't think to say that, just shook my head and said "Take a picture to prove all this was true." so here you go.
Then of course 8 turned out to be the double-length Lynch-directed Giant nonsense, just perfection, ending with Bob and Dark Laura in the boxcar. Then I read another 100 pgs to finish THE MAGUS because I was tired of getting jerked around and then started DUMA KEY right at 1:08. Of course. I don't even try anymore, it just keeps happening.