C. is in the other room with B. They're talking about ideas for the video they are about to shoot. Something about office cubicles and roller skates. Or was that wall-to-wall shag carpeting and pong? Both? Can't remember.

Anyhoo, this weekend has been great. Friday night we went to a friend's birthday party. He had a film projector and showed movies on a giant sheet on the back of his house. We watched a public service film about seat belts, starring former astronaut Wally Schirra. Then we saw "The Cat in the Hat", which was much better and funnier than I remembered from childhood. Lastly, we watched "Delicatessen". Yay! It's still as good as I remember. About halfway through "Delicatessen", I looked up at the sky and around at the people and realized how wonderful this really was. It's a rare treat to do something like this, and I took the time to really acknowlege that. C. fell asleep near the end of "Delicatessen" because he always falls asleep during movies. Even though we were outdoors and the movie was loud, he still fell asleep. I swear, he's this close to being a narcoleptic.

The rest of the weekend has been spent doing any damn thing I want. I cleaned up the house some on Saturday while C. did his usual tinkering on the computer. I finally bit the bullet and moved the tomato plants out to the backyard. I figured, the hell with it--if someone steals my sick tomato plants, what's the big deal? It felt good to do some productive things. Then I spent the rest of the weekend lying around reading. I'm reading Cavedweller by Dorothy Allison. It's okay...I am liking more the further I get into it. The part that turns me off is that when I picture it in my head as a mini-movie, it looks like one of those sappy things starring Susan Sarandon or Julia Roberts. Uck. I have a bad habit of continuing to read a book even after I've decided I don't love it. I read Keepsake by Kirsty Gunn recently, and as my friend R.F. would say, it was a Box. Of. Turds. I don't use this kind of commentary lightly. It was one soggy, symbolic, unfocused mess. I read the whole thing, fool that I am. I kept hoping that eventually the story would straighten out and become clear enough to make some kind of brilliant sense. Not so.

If you want an excellent, excellent read, get this book: Bee Season by Myla Goldberg. It's amazing. I can't recommend it enough.

I didn't plan on this becoming a "critic's corner" entry, but there it is. Enjoy!

xo, squarepants