Never Been Pierced
Wednesday. So the week is half finished and I am more than half finished, but feeling rather better, you understand, now that the flu has moved on to others scattered throughout the building. I have been in this job too long and I have been saying this for too long but I have not been at it for so long that the internal me is ready to force myself to quit as I have forced myself to quit in the past.
We talked about this today over lunch. Why is the atmosphere so grim where it was once such a great environment? Because all of the good people have either quit or been bounced and the only people left are drudges like us. You don't stay at the same place for years, years and years without becoming stale, stale and stale and we, the collective over ten years at this company we, are the wretched residue that remains.
But the pay is good.
The pay is good as the pay is good at many another organization in the area with blood still pumping in their veins. I say this with confidence as I know I'm both right and not ready to go out and prove my point, so I sit and wait for fate with the attitude of a drudge who's predicament generates no pity, not even my own.
You're such a schmuck.
What do you expect on the Internet?
I saw the Constant Gardner the other night at the Grand Lake, a decent flick, although I didn't like the characters much: the love story too precious and the lack of communication between the couple depressing. The “constant gardener”, a British diplomat, has withdrawn into gardening, one assumes, to avoid paying notice to the world in front of him (Africa, AIDS, blood and corruption) and his resolution to what happens to his wife; his method of resolution, albeit laudable, was less than satisfying.
Then again I've been watching The Machinist, another DVD from Netflix. It's been rough going. I've watched the first quarter, turned it off, thought about it, built up my courage; watched the second quarter, turned it off, built up my courage; watched now the third quarter, turned it off, am building up my courage: what's the problem? Something like Roman Polanski's Repulsion, except with a gaunt male death like character played by Christian Bale, instead of the cool but beautiful sexually repressed woman played by Catherine Deneuve?
Is that the difference? Christian Bale, a pretty good representation of death (I believe I heard an interview where he described losing the pounds), Catherine Deneuve, no matter what, is still Catherine Deneuve? Probably not, I've missed something here, but I'm not sure I want to make the effort required to figure it out. Have you watched The Machinist? Did you have a similar reaction? No? Has your armor never been pierced?
Oh, I did see the trailer for the upcoming remake of King Kong. Think of all the ways you could screw up a remake of King Kong, one of Hollywood's perfect movies. Still, and I say this grudgingly, I was taken by what I saw. Yes, yes, special effects out the ass, but the actor who plays the film director Carl Denham (Jack Black, Robert Armstrong in the original) seemed exactly right - the voice maybe - and, well, I think I need to see it when it's released in December and learn how good or bad the rest of the movie may be that didn't make it into the trailer.