Huh. Well I seem to have taken a rather extended blog-off holiday. It was that damned Canada party I guess and all those crazy canucks….
The truth is, I’ve been sucked in by Netflix. There was this thing on my farmville page that told me to get a free month trial for some farmville dollars, so I did it. The farm bucks are LONG gone, but Netflix stubbornly remains. The free trial was good to the 23rd of July, and that day has come and gone and I did not cancel. And here I am, over fifty movies later, all bug eyed and brain addled. Wish I were kidding about the number of flicks now imbedded in my otherwise empty little head, but I’m not. How to fry your brain for under ten dollars a month should be their motto. Maybe it is.
Of course that’s not ALL I’ve been doing. There’s all those other trivial things like work and people taking holidays and W. coming back home and having the raining-est bug infested month ever. No one in this province, unless he’s been recently relocated here from some rain forest, is used to the airless muggy humidity. Some one called our box store a sweat box. They say the air conditioning is actually on and functioning, but I’m skeptical. This sweltering thing is not conducive to mental wellness. Makes one want to do nothing more than sit around being all sizzled and moist and cantankerous.
I could have been doing movie reviews I guess, but a lot of the stuff I’ve been watching isn’t worth watching, never mind reviewing. The good, the bad and the extremely weird. There’s a few I’ve clicked out of partway through, but mostly I feel obligated to watch the whole damned thing. Kind of like when I’m reading a book and even though it’s pathetic drivel I don’t like to insult the author by giving up on it. Like he’d ever know, but still. There could be something profound in there somewhere, you never know.
So there have been quite a few credit rolling moments which find me sitting here staring at my screen wondering what the hell is wrong with me and the movie industry and the world in general. And still I persist. I’ve been reading too – the entire Hunger Games trilogy, for one thing. And now I’m on to Ann Brashares My Name is Memory (in actual book form because every so often a change from e-reading makes me happy.) It’s got me considering my past lives, and what kind of preparation is in process for the next one. Surely to God I’ll do something more productive in my next life. Like screen writing perhaps.
So I should be just chock full of balderdash by now, wouldn’t you say? Ready to spew forth a couple dozen mind numbing blogs in magniloquent style? Even though my flower beds need weeding and the shrubbery needs trimming and the sun has been shining for three full days. It’s just teasing us. The bugs are poised amidst the leaves waiting to swarm and bite off my face. I’m just NOT going out there. Because I’ve never seen The Baxter, or 500 Days of Summer, or How to Lose Your Lover. And I MUST, since Netflix has been kind enough to recommend all of them, based on my previous bizarre moving watching preferences. I hate to let them down.