raymond barry, god of suck

There’s 110 minutes of my life I’ll never get back. But it was so worth it. I wrote about “The Deep End”, which the MSG and I saw after he put it on my Netflix queue. Neither of us can figure out why he did such a cruel, cruel thing. (I keep telling him not to smoke crack while Netflixing.) It was a pathetic little movie with a third-grade murder-mystery plot, although beautifully filmed. Also, Goran Visnjic was in it, and he has those big haunted eyes and a nice accent. But even nice cinematography and hunky Croatians could not salvage that picture. One performance in particular stood out. Stood out because it was so horrifyingly bad, the kind of acting performance that could have been more effective had the actor (a) walked past a...

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Posted on 4 Feb 2004 | Comments Off

i could shake my tiny fist

As if this day really needed an injection of WTF, my ex-husband sent me an instant message this afternoon. It was a kind message; apparently he had read about my dad’s catheterization in my journal, and expressed relief that he was okay. What ensued was a civil, normal, mature, hour-long conversation, devoid of any emotion or angst, just catching-up chat, that sort of thing. And when I sensed he was getting snarky with me, I excused myself with a simple “Talk to you in September!” Since it had been that long before today that he told me he no longer wanted any contact with me. As I drove home, I congratulated myself on keeping it light. For once.

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Posted on 4 Feb 2004 | Comments Off