Shocking.

I saw The Piano Teacher last night, jesus. I know I have sort of a Victorian thing going, but that's really limited to manners, gagging at horrible smells and my distaste for handling money. Oh and the colonial heritage thing. But Isabella Huppert masturbating with a straight razor was a bit much for me. It was excellent though, shocking and disturbing, but subtle and funny as well. Isabelle Huppert is a daunting, prim-looking conservatory, master-class teaching piano teacher who lives with her demented mother and her 'love' interest is a gorgeous blonde puppyish boy who literally bounces around with enthusiasm, talent and everything beautiful and shiny. She says at one point, to paraphrase, "You're so good looking that you will never have to suffer anything". It was oddly easy to identify with her, even taking into account her extreme sadomasochistic urges, I guess all marginal people in the world have to unite against the blonde, brilliant and beautiful (he even played hockey). But she isn't a victim either, she lashes her students and uses her intelligence as a weapon. I thought of my father who took this movie out from the library by mistake. He called me up to tell me, because he was so horrified, but was too prim to tell me why it was so shocking...

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5, lost a point for the razor scene). If you think you're into S&M because you liked Secretary, this movie is not for you.

I woke up with heartburn this morning, I think I got it from watching this movie. Downgrade. 3.5 stars.

Spear of bees! If another shitty day like this one happens along, I will cut through it with a spear made of bees. I'm not crazy, this phrase was originally coined to describe PJ Harvey's guitar skills, but I'm adopting it. Reasons why today sucked so hard:

1. Nor'easter.
2. Because of Nor'easter, flat hair and having to wear most-hated coat ever that makes me look twelve
3. Avalanches and snowballing effect of work-related woes and fires that needed to be put out that I was instead fanning in hopes that it would burn the whole damn thing down.
4. A nice blogger was fired from Conde Naste (bastards, want to hire me?) for putting work-related stuff on his blog
5. Cute art department boy spoke disparagingly about girls who wore all black as I walked by to pick up my ugly art (the only non-black thing on my person, including my thunderous face)
6. My mother called me three times at work on my cell
7. I forgot to put on antiperspirant.
8. I woke up before my alarm and couldn't go back to sleep
9. My coworker, who is the willing/captive ear for all my work-related woes and otherwise (don't feel bad for him, I make them funny) is on vacation. I'm talking to myself mostly.

Reasons why tonight will be better:

1. Netflix
2. I love my cat
3. Red wine
4. Nor'easters sound lovely when tucked into bed
5. I still love my fishnet tights I wore today, I will give them an approving pat on the shoulder before I throw them in the wash ( invariably, to be chewed up. Wash them by hand, jerk.)
6. Listening to PJ Harvey and imagining all bad things in the world being eaten up by a swarm of skinny, but fierce English bees.

Ciao.

On the UPN news last night (whatever, I was watching America's next top model) one of the top stories was about angry Park Slope parents (aren't they adorable?) who got a racy billboard removed because it was across the street from a school. I assume they accomplished this by throwing millet at the offending billboard, firing off irate letters to their local city councilperson on recycled protest paper, and shielding their children's eyes with handknit balaclavas. What are Park Slopers worried about anyway? It's not like this will encourage their children to have sex. They grew from pods, as will their children. Why hate on Park Slope so much, you ask? Because there's a fucking crack house across the street from a primary school in my neighbourhood that hasn't quite made the news yet. From Eugene Mirman's column 'Around Town':

Carroll Gardens, Cobble Hill, Boerum Hill and Park Slope are beautiful neighborhoods filled with everything from delicious restaurants to shops that sell weird crappy glass things from Europe. Hey, do you know where I could get a children's shoe made of silver to hang in my kitchen? Yes, there are five stores for that. Where can a guy go to get a glass penis with eagle wings (hand crafted in Vermont!)? Where can't you buy that, fuckface? Is there an accessories store whose tag line is "Peace is always in fashion"? Yes. Finally, a skirt that says (through its spirit of design), "We should not have entered Iraq under false pretenses," or a pair of mittens that frown upon America's actions in Chile.

To all Torontonians should recognize this wasteland as Yorkville sounding, but at least there are fucking couture shops there. This is just food co-ops, bad clothing stores and gelaterias (go Brooklyn!). For about five more minutes, my neighbourhood is going to stay dirty, with no bookstores and one Brazilian coffeeshop and real children playing in schoolyards (pity about the crackhouse though), just the way it should. Until the pod people move in. You can't defeat the pod people. I've always wanted blonde hair in braids and a Che t-shirt, I could maybe do it.

A man was standing on the median at Broadway and 23rd, in front of the Flatiron during the 1pm runtogetfedbeforerushingbacktothecubes witching hour, just lounging. A brave woman/coworker/tourist asked, "Are you getting some fresh air?" and he said, "I just got my divorce settlement and thought I would just hang out here and think about it". Really, I couldn't have made up a better joke that had to be followed by a drum roll.

I'm locked up in my office feeling very antisocial right now. Inexplicably, because it's beautiful outside and I just had spicy tuna rolls and seaweed salad. I think it's the lag time between eating and the nutritive proteins getting metabolized and in about twenty minutes I'll be my normal tweaking self.

I went to see Neil Jordan's latest movie, Breakfast on Pluto, last night. It was good, even very good. Cilian Murphy makes one beautiful woman, but unfortunately, is only really hot when his head is shaved, when he's covered in blood and being chased by zombies. But still, he rocked a turquoise peignoir and platform boots.