27 March 2008

At least I won't have to worry about scurvy.

I fell head-first into a cold sometime around Tuesday afternoon. A rogue train collision further down the Providence line stopped my commute home Tuesday evening, dragging out into Tuesday night. I got home over four hours after I'd left work. Uncool, MBTA. Uncool. I took yesterday and today off in spite of my dwindling sick time, because man... I'm sick. I've been zincing it up and vitamin Cing it up, so let's just assume that I'm on the mend...

So that's where I stand now... or sit, rather, because I'm stuffy and easily confused by a change in perspective.

But in other news, I got a dress for the Big A, finalemente. It's a sassy little number, but it could never out-sass the bride.

I also finally saw No Country for Old Men. Oh boy. It's beautifully shot and very well-acted -- Javier Bardem may have gotten the little golden statue (and for good reason - he is creeptastic), but Josh Brolin was a treat. Very real, very subtle and very capable. I'm still sifting through, trying to decide whether I liked it or not. I did like it, but not in the traditional sense. I will say this: it's a movie that doesn't care whether you like it or not - it has its own agenda.

I also watched Michael Clayton, which I had bought on DVD in good faith. It was good - pretty much everything I thought it would be, so I'm not sure why I walked away slightly disappointed. It's a good legal thriller/drama, I just need to remember that I don't really like legal thrillers/dramas.

Musically speaking, Andrew Bird has a blog on the NY Times website. It's mostly about his song-writing, as he's prepping for a new album (editor's note: sweetness!) He's got an interesting approach to writing, song-writing, what have you... I feel like if you could just tip him to one side that cuckoo clocks, a broken banjo, antique medicine bottles, a child-sized bow and arrow set circa 1910, a bushel of apples, a set of "collectible" ceramic angels, and various gears and springs would just tumble out of his head. A patch-work quilt kind of man.

In other news, Ryan Adams (who is now maybe going by his full name of David Ryan Adams...?) continues to be absolutely insane and is now proving it to the masses on a daily basis via blog. Maybe I should read up on it now while my mind struggles with the concept of opening my generic ibuprofen bottle... it might make more sense that way.

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