So yesterday I realized that if Nik and I are going to Philadelphia next weekend, I had better get off my fat behind (wider is better!) and get us a room, so I rang a Bed and Breakfast clearinghouse.

"Hi, I'm looking for a bed and breakfast, arriving Friday leaving Sunday, and in the city please, as we won't have a car."
"Sorry. Everything's booked."
"What?"
"There's a big convention in town next weekend and everything's all booked up."
"O. Um, thanks."

I had one other number, so I called it with fingers crossed (Nik comes home on Wednesday, and I could just imagine that conversation: "Hi, welcome back! Um, about Philadelphia...Hey how about we go to Boston instead!") and they had one place and only one place, not in the city but a mere SEPTA ride away. And it was our only choice, and reasonably priced, so I grabbed at it with both fists.

So that holiday has been snatched from the jaws of defeat.

After work, Tracing and I went to the screening at SAG, since she is at last no longer working 23 1/2 hours a day.

It was A Walk on the Moon, which was a completely charming film, much funnier than it looked in the previews, where it seemed somewhat melancholy.

Instead, it was this very sweet, nostalgic look at the summer of 1969 in a resort in Catskills. It was one of the very few films of that era where Woodstock comes in naturally, what with it taking place in a nearby town!

Diane Lane was wonderful, as were Liev Schrieber and Tovah Feldshuh and Anna Paquin, and I finally saw what the big deal was with Viggo Mortensen, who is some sweet side of beef.

I will say, though, that Anna Paquin's tears were extraordinary. Not that she can cry on cue, but that she was cry so big--each tear was the size of a marble. She must have been dehydrated after every take.

Afterwards, I was thinking of A Little Romance.

Ever seen that film? It is one of those perfect little movies. Diane Lane was fourteen when she made it and I was fifteen when I saw it, my mother (having already seen it) warning me that I would probably beg to sit through it again, and I did.

Diane Lane and Thelonious Bernard play children in Paris who fall in love, aided and abetted by Laurence Olivier and his appalling French accent as an old con man, and it is one of the most wonderful romantic comedies ever made.

Diane Lane was excellent in A Walk on the Moon, but she will never be as good as she was when she was fourteen years old.

Ever since I wrote of Dory Previn the other day, the Dory Previn cultists have been popping up like snapdragons, all wailing the same wail:

"My albums are wearing out! CDs, I need CDs! Do you know where I can get them?"

Well, it just so happens I do! Get thee to cdnow.com and see what you can see.

Got three more mix tapes yesterday, Dario's ( Dawn's husband the music fetishist), Suzanne's and Melissa's!

I can't wait to hear them , but having gotten ten tapes on Saturday, I'm still a bit behind.

Hey everybody, speaking of tapes, trade mix tapes with Tess! The mix tape that she sent me last year was one of the best I got--you won't regret it.

Today's horoscope:
Seek out some educational activities, help kids or grandkids with their homework, or do something to stimulate everybody's mind.

One year ago today:
"What do you want to see, Kevin? What do you want to see?"
"I wanna see Pwimary Colors!"

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Cool paperclip logo and graphics by:
Marcio Caparica Carlos!

This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Tues 6 April 09:40:09 1999