Last night I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and hated it. I don't understand why so many people raved about it. Ug. The characters weren't really believable. There was no spark or chemistry between Pitt and Blanchett. The writing was just bad. It was a cross between Forest Gump and The Notebook. I felt as is they movie was trying very hard to be moving, eloquent and poetic and ended up creaking, being trite and annoying. Three hours of my life I'm never getting back. And I vehemently hate Hollywood portrayals of what romantic love should be like. I want to get a slingshot and pummel love scenes. I'm not just being bitter party of one, even involved I hate that shit.
Oddly enough I am feeling somewhat isolated after National Poetry Month. As frustrating as it often was, writing a poem a day kept me on my toes and linked to specific community. I was reading other writing daily and had a dialogue open with other writers I know. Now that it is over I am feeling a little lonely sitting on the computer in the morning with nothing in particular to check out. I still haven't looked over my poems but look forward to. B thinks there are enough for another chapbook; I think he had so much fun working on the first he would love another project. N.F.L. Not for Lizz.
I've swooned back into a Gabriel Garcia Marquez short story collection and am drunk on the language. Pour me up another, love.
Baby You Got It