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2:55 p.m. - 2010-12-06
Celluloid Nyquil

No secret that I'm a big old sucker for some kinds of schmaltz. Including actual schmaltz if you're making soup or chopped liver with it. But never just spread on toast. Butter was invented so we don't have to put chicken fat on toast.

In any case, combine the flu with the start of the Christmas folderol and I've been drowning myself in schmaltz in an effort not to go completely to pieces. The mean reds are menacing me big time.

This morning me and my 1,000lb snot balloon head laid in bed and watched 'Romancing the Stone' for 2.5 hours on AMC. Spoiled as I am by Turner Classic Movies and dvds, watching a movie on a channel with relentless commercials sucked rancid wiener. But I stuck with it partly because I didn't feel well enough to get up and do anything else, but mostly because I was waiting for the money shot. 2 and ½ hours of 5 minutes of movie, 4 minutes of ads, 5 minutes of movie, 4 minutes of ads (at twice the volume of the movie, thank the gods for mute buttons), etc, etc, etc…all so I could get my goofy fix with the boat in the street and Kathleen Turner's declaration that dying in Michael Douglas's arms was the only way to go.

Yes, I am a sucker for the schmaltz.

And oy, Michael Douglas! How sad! Sure, everybody hopes for miracles, but you can see in the most recent pics of him that's he's a walking dead man. Fucking cancer.

Guh. Sorry. See why I need to dose myself with sappy crappy?

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul Varjak: Sure.
Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

My Tiffany's is the movies. The place I go when I need Dorothy and Toto to get home safe, for Rocky to get up off the mat, and where nobody ever puts Baby in a corner.


Self-medicating with syrupy cinema, ~LA


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