Secret Pop

Jan 18, 2005

I always wanted to be a child prodigy.

It's talk of Neil Patrick Harris that brings such things to mind. Starship Troopers has been on the pay channels a bit this past week. I have caught parts of it. And I remember going to see it in the theater and being stunned by how violent it was but not feeling any rankling because of that. There's corny stuff in it, sure. Like when the Roughnecks win a big battle and the Lieutenant breaks out the beer and the "entertainment," which consisted of some futuristic nerf football and an electric violin, which Gary Busey's son picks up and starts playing while the rest of the squad dances. Ga-hay. But the music is super great, and the creature effects and macabre meat-rending rule. And it's so romantic and sad when Dizzy dies in Rico's arms and says, "It's okay. Because I got to have you." All the more reason for me to wish Denise Richards had gotten her brains sucked out in the end, too. Not just that Melrose Place guy. Although he totally had it coming.

I loved Doogie Howser, M.D. I wished I was Doogie Howser. I've seen Neil Patrick Harris around town before, but I've never like run up to him and told him how great he was or anything. I don't do that. Never would. And I'm sure it must be all the more annoying to have to carry your celebrity from childhood. I'm sure it must suck to have people say, "You were great in Clara's Heart." Or to ask what it was like working with Whoopi Goldberg. 'Cause you know that's the question on everyone's lips.

You like that? You like that? You like that? You want a little more? Come on! You like that? You like that? You like that? You want a little more?

This movie makes me want to go join the army. Or nuke me some bugs. Or spray ant poison on my window sill. Or just sit here and procrastinate more.

P.S. Jake Busey is a terrible actor.

Golden Hour

I might have gotten there later than I planned, but I did make it to the park at LACMA today. I took Audrey for a pleasant romp. Numerous people we passed admired her t-shirt and her gait. Little children cried out, "Doggie!" And the sun began to go down behind the buildings, and the lamps came on as we passed a pair of girls juggling pins just like in the circus. We also passed two very old ladies walking side by side, one of whom actually squeaked. I don't know if it was her body or some apparatus I could not see. But she was squeaking with each meager step. Then I heard her answer her cell phone with the oldest sounding "hello" ever uttered. I kind of wanted to hug her for it.

I came home and finished up some more thankless design work and the weight of night was heavy on me. I have been feeling that a lot. It has turned my skip to a trudge. The picture I have of myself in my brain is a disappointing one.

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