Perhaps I will continue to say things...to myself

This evening I watched a movie that both made me want to eat forever, and never want to eat again. La Grande Bouffe is pretty slow for a movie that is totally insane–and I don't mean that in a bad way at all. Perhaps the pace is meant to add a more realistic dimension to what sort of reminds me of a combination of Tampopo and Como Agua Para Chocolate or some other magical realistic film. The food has such a strong hold over these people, as diversion, comfort, a means of celebration, and a medium through which to live extraordinarily, it sort of makes me want to be a chef or just mess around in a kitchen while I also am feeling pretty good about being vegetarian.

Before I forget, I would just like to note that the other weekend, on the way home at about 3 or 4 in the morning, my friend and I met a man named Lou in the subway. He was middle aged, and as my friend said, had a face that looked like the surface of the moon, but was very friendly and we were both quite smashed. The long and the short of it is he said I look like Fiona Apple ("around the eyes") and forced us to leave a voicemail at Drew Barrymore's film company beseeching her to give Lou a ride to the airport. Too weird.

Today, one of the girls I look after got a cello–she is to begin lessons next week. Meanwhile, her sister got out her castaway guitar and the two had a jam session on the respective instruments that neither could play. The sounds coming from their room resembled, as I imagine, a party of cats and roosters giving each other rabies, but louder.