That's sort of what I was thinking about before I remembered "Lost" was on. I'd just watched the second half of The Jerk, see. Which is a surprisingly funny movie, once you get past the opening. Really. Although I often like Steve Martin (I'm generally of a mind, ever since All of Me, to give him a chance), I doubt I'd ever have tried The Jerk were it not for the "Freaks and Geeks" guys recommending it. If I remember right, the movie becomes a litmus test for girls, to Lindsay's little brother & his friends: if a girl can't/won't/don't laugh at The Jerk, how could you really love her? The film ain't all that to me, 'xactly, but it does have some pretty good belly laughs. AND it has a ukelele.
The DVD, in fact, has a whole ukelele section, in which viewers can train to strum along with the eponymous jerk and Bernadette Peters during their (deadpan & lovely, charming dork/innocent but also hilarious) "You Belong To Me" beach ukelele scene. And that's nice. Me, I just sang along, ukeless.
See, I could, if I made/let myself (what is WITH these slashes any more?? i swear them off completely, right here right now, in these very parentheses, until the end of april. at least. i swear.), I could either get really pissed off and pop blood vessels or (more true) bawl my eyes out like a child over ukelele sweetness. But I do neither. I did neither. Despite my (commie) uke wound. I may even get me a uke some day. A home should have a uke, no?
Isn't that a uke in that Smiths song? ---the one---in 3/4 time---that probably wouldn't have the same lyrical impact if you tweaked the words (as I would do, were I to cover it tonight) to go "Lord knows it would be the second time"? HA HA hA ha HaaaAAaAAA! maniacal laughter!!
Tonight I haven't been drinking. Which is worse?
So you can't trust anyone. But that's okay. It's like the "You Belong To Me" all-we've-got-is-now thing---that's the truth, and we all know it. See? I'm evolving, even if I'm not quite to "No one in the world ever gets what they want, and that is beautiful; everybody dies frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful. They want what they're not and I wish they would stop saying deputy dog dog a ding dang depadepa, deputy dog dog a ding dang depadepa."
Speaking of philosophy, I e-ed BFD today a line of that Simone's that came back to me. I don't have my reader from the library yet, but online perusal exposed me to, among other things, a page of quotations. The two that stuck with me, I should perhaps be embarrassed to admit, weren't of the "food for thought" category so much as the "Hey, yeah, I think that" one, but here they are for you anyway:
of the degradation which we bear in ourselves."
--- dude. And
Laugh if you want. Grasshoppers.
Simone died at 34, you know. A full decade (and counting) less longetivitudinousness than yours truly. Of course, the quotation quips are but that (though I can appreciate a koan-like vibe thing to a contextless snippet). And, as mentioned in earlier work of the
But that's about enough of that kinda talk, for now, I declare. If not necessarily for the rest of April. (Let's see how I do.)
In the past two days I, who do not have a sweet tooth, have somehow sought out & acquired, or come across & taken in, quite a great deal of chocolate. The chocolate containing, chocolate covered, chocolate flavored, and just chocolate. A regular variety platter's worth. Come over for a taste, if you'd like.
As I child I thought I'd grow up to be quite an indulger. Free love hippie epicurean, taking pleasure virtually wherever it could be found. In some playgrounds, I made it. In others, watch out. You never know what might befall me. In the words of the queer slogan, "Where there's life, there's hope."
--your big idiot optimist, Lisa