December 3rd, 2006


9 to 5, the movie: no longer available on DVD

But there a copy was in the library yesterday, before I succumbed to this cold. So it's next on today's playlist. I have gotten a fair bit of little stuff done today, in addition to losing fluids through mucus and replacing them (granted, the main activity).

So 9 to 5 is a property of 20th Century Fox. Suppose that's got something to do with it having gone out of print? They could claim to be scandalized by pot smoking in it, or by Hanoi Jane (or whatever it was they used to call her), now that she's safely not tomahawk-chopping with a media mogul partner herself any more. It'll be interesting to see what's in the 'extras,' if anything. My hunch is that it's the class uprising element that's the real bugaboo, presuming there is one. Netflix had it, on long wait, then on very long wait, and now it's on the availability "unknown" list.

I saw tht the library does have a video copy of Johnny Guitar, whose release on DVD I check for periodically.

Ya'll's comments on the concept of unconditional love were good to read. I don't much feel like responding individually at the moment, if you'll forgive me.

Worst part of a cold with this kind of congestion: it makes CPAP use impossible. Thus preventing me from getting real sleep. Oh, I should post sometime about the recent follow-up session I had with a cool neurologist---who actually seemed not only not to presume me an idiot but actually to presume me to have functioning grey matter (perhaps until proven otherwise). Well, here, I'll post about it now: It was great. He went over both my sleep tests from back then with me in detail. And he googled around with me to show off new mask styles that are out there. And he talked in real-world terms about choices involving money and insurance being something to be worked through and around. I dug him.

I wonder if neurologists in general are cooler than some other types of specialists in general. Doesn't seem implausible.

It's going to be a long night tonight, I tell you what.

movie update, and other sick thoughts

9 to 5 actually IS still available in the U.S. on DVD. Why Netflix won't shell out for replacement copies (or whatever), who knows.

How to Tell If You Have a Fever Without a Thermometer:

1. You are cold in many layers under many layers even after hiking the heat up to 65 and a half.
2. There is a full moon.

(#2 may not apply.)

I'm not even sure there's a full moon tonight. Just looked like it out the window earlier.

I watched the extras of 9 to 5 and sorta skimmed along the commentary track for a bit, then set it aside for a second viewing of The Man Who Wasn't There. That's a really fine little movie--- just ends kinda weakly. And, no, I don't mean cuz it's not (MILD SPOILER ALERT! skip to end of paragraph if you don't want to know anything at all) a happy ending. But there's this one absolutely hilarious bit I somehow missed the first time. (Do I recall that the sound was bad in the theater that night? I know the sound was bad in that Woody Allen movie with Tracy Ullman.) It's when Billy Bob's doing voiceover over his passed-out wife, talking about how they came to be married, and then the phone rings. And he has to leave for a while, and we follow that whole scene, and then he comes back, and she's still passed out, and he just picks up where he left off. Repeats the last sentence, in fact, to make it completely clear what's going down. Funniest damned thing. I swear.

I have chills.

The noir movie kinda goes with having a cold. You stumble into the kitchen like some hapless doomed solitary narrator, draped in mismatched layers over sweatpants and slippers, knock back a water, plug in the broken stove and fire up the flame, melt a bit of butter, crack an egg into the pan, scramble it, push the mess about to make a place for a plate, serve it out, and eat it. Force down a glass of water. Feel very slovenly-bachelory. Imagine your voiceover. It's laconic city, and you're the star of the show.

Would it be bold of me to e-mail in sick already? You can bet they won't want me around that place tomorrow. I am given to understand that we have a number of workers who are especially certain not only that they'll catch any germ, but that the one they caught is definitely the one somebody else brought into the workplace, and it's all that person's fault. I'm not saying I'm not sympathetic in the least, and I'm not saying I don't think it's inconsiderate for the sick to show up and hack all over everybody. That's a big part of why I won't go in if I'm too mucus-y, even if (by some chance) I sleep and wake up feeling a little better (and not freezing cold). But I am saying there's something about that certainty that feels to me, comes off to me, a little deluded. Bordering on paranoid. And over-simple. And unrealistic, and a little grandiose, and even a tad hostile and self-centered and ---I could go on, but for all I know I've already offended a bunch of ya, so I might as well stop digging the hole.

If I had a lodger, I have been imagining, how would this experience be different. I think I prefer these circumstances to the particular circumstances I'm imagining, under the circumstances.

Oh, I have another movie thing for you. Prepare to be shocked: Waiting for the Moon, the Linda Hunt movie about Gertie and Alice, doesn't suck! How 'bout them apples? After all these years of hearing how terrible it is. It's slow as all get-out, sort of, and rambly and impressionistic, and wholly invented, but it didn't completely bite.

I do like to look at images of Linda Hunt's face for long periods of time, however, so YMMV.