I just finished my dinner of Hamburger Helper, bought cheap at the 70%-off Food & Drug Mart clearance. Kinda salty; I'm glad I got just the one box.
This afternoon I timed my visit to squirrelykat's 5 cats to coincide with Comedy Central's showing of The Big Lebowski. I saw it the first time just prior to its major release at the Charles in B-more, in the Cinema Sundays series, the Sunday morning going to the church of film at my original temple thereof, then still a 1-screen former newsreel house run by John Waters' casting director, Pat Moran. It was there I first belonged to the Church of The Movies---the mythology of the white man, according to Northern Exposure. (I also occasionally attend the Church of Baseball, as does the prophet Sarandon in Bull Durham.) Cinema Sundays, now in its 32nd series, had bagels & cream cheese, a movie, an audience that was 80% Jewish and of an approximate median age of 55, sometimes a guest, and always a group talk afterwards.
That particular Sunday was during the one and only visit Holly's mother Liz made to her daughter in Charm City, back when Holly would still admit being wounded, as she was by Liz's never making it to her Mt. Vernon apartment. Liz loved The Big Lebowski. She even participated in the post-flick talk; all nervous as the mic came down our row to her, she went through a string of self-deprecating remarks, about how she didn't know anything about movies and wasn't anywhere near as smart as anyone else in the theater, before commenting that the film struck a chord with her on a generational level, or words to that effect. For hours afterwards she was high on having spoken up.
That whole visit went well---better than we could have expected. We took Liz to the old bead shop in Fell's Point & then made jewelry, flopped on our bellies on her makeshift bed in our overcrowded living room. And she absolutely loved the movie experience. Once the weekend was over and all good, Holly was so happy.
I was a little afraid to see the movie today, but it was great, again, even with the despicable cuts and curse substitution of the cable channel. I may just have to get the "Making Of" book about it, and get ahold of the DVD to take in the real film again. As I wrote my brother, the movie's so goofy, yet so smart. I really dig some of those fellas in it. And the surreal sequences of bowling imagery--- wow. But mostly it was amusing. Made my face smile, and my innards, too. Fun.
I regret having ever accepted "amusing" as dismissive, indicative of trivial achievement. Amusement can be transporting. And there are high levels of it.
Not that I don't know what could be thought a missing element in "merely" amusing. But c'mon. Comedy is high art, too. I'm sorry, Thalia, for ever having doubted it.