Monday, April 24, 2006

Mariah Carey needs to PUT SOME FREAKIN CLOTHES ON!! I do not know where the merit in being constantly underdressed, rilly rilly naked, naked nikkid, comes from. Plus, you know, the mugging. What's the word for what she does...Vamps? Preens? There's switch. No down time. No time when she's not nekkid and mincing (there is no right verb for this) around with some kind of overt attempt at bein "sexy." Wow, it's amazing how prudish that sounds and that's NOT THE PROBLEM at all. It's the sheer monotony! Plus the sense that she is relentlessly selling herself on the cheap, sucking on her thumb and looking coy. She's never not looking at somebody up from under her lashes. (Raymond Chandler could describe this meaner and better.) It's so tedious. Although DAMMIT I really like the snare drum beat in the new Snoop thing. DAMMIT.

My friend Kim watches movies for scenes of knitting, the way some people watch movies fetishistically for scenes of bustiers or age-disparate sex or naked feet. I am discovering that I watch movies for scenes of domesticity and eating in restaurants & kitchens, but *especially* soda shops and diners. I couldn't help re-watching Now, Voyager yesterday and DAMN! I was in love with all the acoutrement of ice cream in the little soda shop scene, down to the bubble-shaped water glasses. So gorj, all that chrome and glass. I adore seeing everyday life stuff in films too - a strong reason to love Brief Encounter, even though it's nominally only about grand ideas. I like seeing the Kardomah, Boots the Chemist..

It's funny how the sex associated with certain things can fade - they are starting to re-show Monty Pythons here on Sunday nights and I am being suddenly re-reminded of how much time I spent dreaming nerdily of um, things carnal, with all of them, esp. Cleese & Palin, while a teenager. What a dork. I had all these elaborate fantasies about them...makes a certain amount of sense for a nerdy nervous smart teenager. They were so *repressed* in their own way - that probably twanged my strings. Smart and verbal and dorky and English and clearly very naughty underneath it all. Anyhow, I forgot. But then I remembered. Especially Cleese in all his thin-lipped freaky-deaky glory. I do that sometimes - run into a past object of teenage lust, long forgotten (tennis players from the 80s, Steve Martin from Let's Get Small). V. odd.

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