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I just cried my eyes out watching Sports Night, the best show that no one saw. My roommate rented the two seasons from his store, and I watched all of Season 1 in the past three days. It’s witty, fast-paced, dialogue-driven … everything I like about a show, and I have no interest in sports whatsoever. It features some of the best actors working today–Felicity Huffman, Peter Krause, Josh Charles (well, I didn’t appreciate him until this), Robert Guillaume, Sabrina Lloyd–in captivating performances. It is everything a good TV show should be, so of course it didn’t last. (Arrested Development, anyone?) Peter’s character, Casey, had a moment with his young son that killed me. The son was embarassed that he couldn’t play baseball–you know, with a sports jock father and all–and so he lied about how he played to please Casey. As his son visited him at work, Casey found out about the lies and led the boy silently to a quiet office and, after great pause, said: “You were worried you might embarass me. Man. There should be no doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re my son. And you can’t even blame me, ’cause Grandpa started it. And I have a hunch his dad was no picnic, either. So, Charlie, I am nipping this in the bud right now. Pay close attention. In this lifetime, you will never embarass me. It’s not gonna happen. You play baseball if you want to play baseball, and the only thing you have to do to make me and your mom happy is come home at the end of the day. In your lifetime, you’ll never embarass me. You know why? (Charlie shakes his head slightly) ‘Cause I’m your father. Who’d you think I was?” And it sounds cheesy, and it’s not effective out of context, but I lost it. I lost it. I lost it simply because, well, if anyone ever said that to me when I was young–if I had a father around to say that–I wouldn’t have spent the better part of 20 years worried about exactly that. Children really deserve better. I deserved better. And if I ever have kids, they will have the fullest little hearts on the block. Anyway, back to the show, is there anything that can stop Felicity Huffman from giving a tour de force performance? I think not. Rent Sports Night; you’ll see what I mean. She’s inhuman. filed under: misc | comments: 4 comments |
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I got four bookcases from The Container Store today and installed them all and rearranged my living room. I rearranged my DVDs categorically, not alphabetically. I rearranged the books by height, not by author. I rearranged the placement, filling empty space and opening that which was formerly crowded. I busied my life, filled up my afternoon. Harrison left at noon. He smiles with his eyes closed. And to keep my day full, to prevent that feeling from going away, I rearranged. I distracted. Tearing away cardboard corner protectors, fitting metal into wood. I pushed and pulled and jammed and screwed. I am reading Don DeLillo again. I love placement of words, I love syntactically effective phrases, I love a vocabulary that toes the line between intellectual and relatable. I love these things more than anything. I love how intellectual expansion prevents the mind from dwelling on the heart. I love the counterbalance between the two most important parts of a human being. I feel that oftentimes people stay so intellectually sharp as a result of being such failures in the realm of the heart. Like a blind person may gain acute hearing, like a deaf person can read lips so clearly. Compensation. I wish that was my trick. I wish I was an intellectual powerhouse to make up for my lack of heart. I wish more people could be blunt in this city, and not in the way that they clearly are, but in the way that they feel. I wish people in this city weren’t all compensating for something, being so fabulous and unsatisfied. I wish people felt the way I do. I wish that you weren’t thinking “They do, everyone feels the way you do.” I wish that I could express how much I care and how special I am and how some things should be cherished and how… I wish everyone was as awesome as I am. I guess that’s what I mean. Obviously not, but it’s a valid point. filed under: misc | comments: 5 comments |
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I went on another first date Tuesday night, pretty impromptu, but very nice. Better than the other first date this week, I’d say. Harrison and I met at this Belgian beer pub on West 4th Street and talked over a few glasses of Stella. I’ll spare you the inane details, but the discourse was so natural and relaxing, it felt like talking to an old friend…with very nice undertones of attraction. We walked around for a little bit, not much because it was freezing, and had a sleepover. Nothing slutty. It was really cute. I don’t know how he feels, obviously, but my only real issue with the possibility of dating him is that he goes to school in Jersey. Jersey is okay and all, I’m sure, but when you’re missing someone and they can’t make it out more than sporadically during the school year, it may get frustrating. But who knows. It’s better to miss someone you like than to be surrounded by someone you don’t; I know that from way too much personal experience. Like I said last time, I’m not dwelling too much on it because it was just a first date and therefore not necessarily indicative of how things will unfold, but I’m liking this dating business. I’m sick to death of moping around. Who needs the frustration when it won’t change anything? filed under: misc | comments: 3 comments |
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