I drink your milkshake.

I just got back from seeing There Will Be Blood (finally!), and damn, I forgot how much I love movies. Ok, that's not true. I think about movies all the time - in class, while eating, and especially on the metro. But that movie... It just reminds you what a movie's supposed to be, you know? At the end of it I was like, "oh right! I remember now." It just really made me love movies. And want to write (ta-dah!). I do have to say, all of the big movies this year have done that to me, but I guess because it's been such a long time since I've seen a movie in the theater (more than a month, I think - relatively, that's like Kate Moss going three days without cocaine), it affected me more. I don't even know where to start with Daniel Day-Lewis. I mean, really. Why isn't he in every movie ever made? I sincerely believe that if he had been cast in the title role, Bubble Boy would have done some serious damage at the Oscars. And he seems like such a good guy, too. Intense, for sure, and I definitely wouldn't want to piss him off in a bar, but also humble, kind, and extremely talented. Seriously, the guy's a cobbler. An attractive straight man who makes shoes? Wrap him up in a pretty pink bow and deliver him, please. And Paul Dano - even though he screams like a girl/tortured pig and creeps the living shit out of me - is amazing. Why did it take me so long to see this movie? Oh yeah, because I signed my soul away to academia. Got it.

I've really been making the rounds this week. I saw two plays - one really great, the other extremely mediocre. Wednesday was a three-hour-plus marathon of Les Ephemères, directed by the legendary Arianne Mouchkine, who is the least theater-looking person I've ever seen in my life. The play was very modern: a series of short scenes with some overlapping characters, all about how life is constantly changing, and how in a moment, everything can get flipped upside down. Trite much? Yes. But it was beautifully directed, and the scenes were very touching. I think I'm going back next weekend to catch the second half. I know, put together that's a whopping seven hours of theater. But what can I say? I'm just that dedicated. The next night was this adaptation of Henry IV, which really didn't hold my attention much. I guess it didn't help that I hadn't read the text, but it just wasn't a great show. It reeked of pretension, and after going to a discussion with the director today, I understand why. She's one of those theatre people. She hates television and thinks it's the downfall of society. She "hates" elitism but said that the students at the discussion were in a different class than her own students at a different university in Paris. Oh, bite me. She talked about how she hates it when people come to the theatre to see whatever "star" is in the play, instead of the play itself, but not five minutes later spoke about plans of doing a show with Dominique Pinon (well-known film actor - Amélie, A Very Long Engagement, etc.). Please insert generic rant about French hypocrisy here. And some cuss words. Feel free to use as many "ass clowns" as you'd like. I'm pretty fond of that one.

Also, the weather. What the fucking fuck, Paris? Last week it was sixty degrees and sunny, and people were rollerblading and biking in short sleeves, and I even thought about shaving my legs (if you saw my shower you'd understand why I don't). Now it's like living in a schizophrenic freezer, complete with sub-zero (Celsius) temperatures and ice. But not all the time. And not all day. Just in the morning, when you're walking to the metro and can't get your umbrella open against the wind and tiny kamikaze raindrops attack your face like someone shooting needles through a machine gun, or when you're desperately willing the bus to come so you don't have to walk and your hands feel like - well, they don't feel like anything, because it's so damn cold. So, it seems I blew my load of springtime cheer a little prematurely. But give me fifteen minutes, I'll be back in a jovial mood and ready to go for round two. For real this time.

Lastly, I finally have a flight home! I'll be back in California June 25, just in time for birthday celebrations and graduations galore! Well, I'll have missed the graduations, but my family will all be there and there will be festivities anyways! Exclamation points! So far I'm trying as hard as I can not to focus on the fact that I'll be locked up in the house until August, writing my memoir and feeling bad for not watching as many movies as I'd like to. (I'm still on my quest to watch all of the AFI's top 100 films.) Right now I'm just looking forward to watching a mildly-edited version of Californication on M6, because I've been working my ass off all week and I think I deserve some naked David Duchovny and classic LA scenery. And with that, I bid you adieu, faithful readers. Until the next time I feel so inclined...