GodDAMN, this is so unfair: "I was just in Mary Queen of Scots' bedroom." He didn't see the spot where David Rizzio was murdered nor Kirk o' Field, but he did see the Tree of Conspiracy, whatever it's called, or its site. Yesterday he visited a distillery that he described as Epcot with scotch. And he has a new t-shirt for James VI/I: "My mother got her head cut off and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Plus Scotland and England have a rugby match today so Edinburgh has even more men in kilts prancing about than even is usual.
Perhaps this trip will open his eyes to how manly and dead hot sexy kilts are. Would a Napolitan Italian-American who some people think resembles "that younger one in the Sopranos" (a notion I scoff vehemently, since RDC's equally large, dark, and prominent eyes spark with intelligence and kindle with kindness, wholly unlike Christaphah Moltisanti's dull self-serving inward gaze: look past the oversized nose, people!) look out of place in a kilt? I doubt I'll ever find out, but I think not.
Really good! and a departure for me in that it was suspenseful and I avoid suspense in my fiction just as much as I do suspense and drama in my life. So tiring.
With apologies to Patricia Highsmith, I am somewhat tempted to see the recent cinematization. I was recently talking to someone about Philip Seymour Hoffman because of "Capote" and whoever it was said he was in that movie with Matt Damon, where he took over another man's life, and that was the first I learned that Hoffman was in it. If it weren't for Hoffman, maybe I'd be immune through having already seen Matt Damon in that role (in "Catch Me If You Can"). Edited to say, no I haven't seen Matt Damon in that role, since it was not he but Leonard DiCaprio in that one.
"One" suits the anti-war message of Early 21st Century Blues and I reflexively prefer it to U2's original, but I surprise myself by preferring Warren Hayes's cover to either. When I first saw (and heard of) him, he was opening for Phil Lesh at Red Rocks in 2002. It took me a couple of bars longer to recognize "One" than it should have, perhaps because I had mostly broken up with U2 by the time Achtung Baby came out, and perhaps because Hayes is the superior musician and not the ego-thumping strumpet Bono was when I saw them in 1992 (obviously not having entirely broken up with them, but U2 in Boston on St. Patrick's Day? It was their last best chance).
A friend of mine who was dumped in early 1991 made himself a Tunes to Kill a Camel mix tape o' misery that I had cause to borrow not long after. Among other songs, there were the Church's "Under the Milky Way," Laurie Anderson's "Sweaters" and "Walking & Falling" and, through his roommate's contribution, Eric Clapton's "Promises," and the Cowboy Junkies' "Cheap Is How I Feel."
That was my introduction to the Junkies, and I immediately needed more. I might not have lived the 15 years since bereft of their barbituate blues since a little less than a year later I housesat for friends and, as usual, availed myself of their music collection, which included Trinity Session, but it was a good thing for me to have had Caution Horses throughout 1991 instead of only afterward--and I was glad to tell Michael Timmins of the debt I owe that album during a meet-and-greet at Twist and Shout.
I met Trish and Jared at the Mayan to see "Brokeback Mountain." I got there early and browsed the shops along Broadway. The used bookstores all close at 6, good for my wallet, and the only store open had an age limit. I looked at corsets and pleather trousers and a pair of boots that you could wear only en pointe. Ow. Other objects in the store made me wince, too, but the funniest thing was that I was looking at bondage gear and sex toys with season three of "Gilmore Girls" under my arm.
Dinner at the Hornet: most appreciated. I had a buffalo burger with cheese and mushrooms and guacamole and except for a bowl of cereal and fruit it was my first food since lunch Friday.
A lovely movie. I snorted once when Jack was telling Ennis about their paradise ranch because it reminded me of Lenny and George. Also I thought of Butch and Sundance when they jumped off a bluff into a pond, though they did it more sensibly without clothes on. The one point in the movie I noticed that the scenery didn't work is the bit I should have noticed: Annie Proulx mentions that except for the one scene in deep moss, the setting feels right. Gorgeous, of course. Except for Texas. Of course.
Of course, I am morally outraged that such things should be portrayed in film: Anne Hathaway with icky hair at all, especially blonde hair, and with tobacco stains on her teeth. I got the shivers.