Saturday in the park

Now see if that phrase doesn't conjure up a horn section, and cheesy 70's FM rock. Bwah bwah. So there is a plant sale at the Volunteer Park Conservatory. And I am so there.

That's Saturday for me.

That and not thinking about the various fire drills of last week. Because they don't matter anymore. Just makes me wonder who the hell handled that kind of crap before I came along. Or is it just magically springing up like toadstools in the forest. Filling the void, so to speak- because nature hates a vacuum. Much like I hate vacuuming. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Will basically do anything - anything, I say- to avoid it.

I've also been hearing bad buzz about Black Dahlia. I'm not fabulous at handling really violent films, and da Palma has really gotten under my skin in the past. But I loved the book. One of my sickish delights is James Ellroy. Can't help myself, and frankly, don't care to try. But it sounds like one that I'll wait and see on DVD. I doubt that I could handle it in the theaters anyway. The first time I saw a picture of the Elizabeth Short murder scene, it haunted me for days. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her in the grass. Very nasty business. And I'm not sure I can handle it on a big screen.

So bonus points if someone out there can explain the ending of Kiss Me Deadly (1955) to me. Watched it last night and not only was it a pretty crappy old movie, but the inexplicable ending was just plain insulting. I haven't read the Spillaine book- and might have to- just to get the answers. But this pisses me off. It reminded me of Repo Man and Pulp Fiction- both of which were no doubt referencing it. Stupid movie. So then I watched the first hour of Alexander Nevsky, until Eisenstein had me cross-eyed with fatigue. So that's on the list of things to finish today. After I dedicate some disposable income and kitchen real-estate to plants.