Life is kicking me. Hard. I have only a few hours to fight back and I cannot do it.

I need help.

Rather than bore you with the nuances of my hellish day, I decided to throw up two new movie reviews, both love stories out of the memento-crazy-non-linear genre. I saw "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not" first. I thought it worked well, although it was a little creepy. Despite having high expectations for "Eternal Sunshine..." I managed to leave the theater with the feeling that I had seen a film that was an instant classic. Perhaps it's because I'm not the biggest fan of romance-oriented films, even those of a romantic comedy. The best part of classic romantic comedies always seems to be the comedic element...the actual connection between the two characters always seems secondary to the laughs inspired by their travails. When I left the characters played by Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet (before this film I deeply disliked Kate Winslet and thought Jim Carrey was at his worst when he attempted to be dramatic, like in the awful "The Majestic") didn't leave me laughing at all. They left me wondering what would happen next, but not wanting to see.

I remember someone telling me a long time ago that fairy tales always had to end with a wedding, because if they kept going, the perfection of a flawless coupling would be marred by children, by fighting over finances, by the mundane messes all couples get into together. Kaufman's work manages to pick that lock perfectly, to show the future and yet embrace the past. It's simply amazing.

I left wanting to be on a snowy beach, to just leave the world behind for a day and fall into a rut you never knew existed.

werkz advice: go rent it today. A great film.

The little love-obsessed movie "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not" is just that: neither a romance nor a straight thriller. Instead, the movie literally lurches halfway through from the former to the latter, leaving the viewer baffled at first and creeped out at last. It's not a load of laughs, but if you like thrillers, it's a good little movie. To describe the gimmick is to give away too much, but it works. Go check it out.

werkz advice: go see it this hour. Now!

the latest from the Charlie Kaufman, the guy who brought you "Being John Malkovitch" and "Adaptation" is "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", in which a character played by Jim Carrey goes through the trauma of having his memories of an ex-girlfriend erased. To describe the movie further really diminishes the entire work, so suffice it to say that this is the best movie of 2004. Hands down. Yeah, I know I'll be first in line to see "Troy" and there are a couple other biggies in the pipe, but this little film in the "romantic comedy" genre is a standout. By the end of the film I think every single person who has watched it realizes it is a great work. So stop reading this and go see it!

Another box bit it. I've lost three in the past three days. I'm at my wits end.

The fundraiser went well, the local Dem organizing deal less so. I suppose my problem is a continued focus on sloth. That doesn't inspire confidence with people who don't know me, whose names I cannot remember. I like to remind myself it is their problem, not mine. I just want to change the world.

Fincher sent me a horrible link to a closed-minded article. I'm angry that it's the last thing of substance I'll read for the night. I want to wash my mind out with soap. Grr.

The Dick Clarke testimony was great today. The new winged monkey attack line is simple: because Clarke gave a background interview with reporters in 2002, and was positive about the administration's point of view, he's a hypocrite. Clarke reminded the commission that in DC, you certainly don't talk smack about your employer (Clark, at the time, was part of the administration) and that private life allows more freedom.

So we'll see how this story gets spun. Condi Rice evidently has already put out a press release saying Clarke's charges are "scurrilous" which is odd, considering that every member of the commission has been playing whack-a-mole with her decision to not testify in public. I mean, she's the NSA. It's her job. But no public testimony? And Bush will only talk for an hour before two people, rather than the full commission? You'd think that they were actually trying to look like they're stonewalling.

Hopefully I will have enough time after the fundraiser this evening (oh, and some local political stuff with gwyn and friends) to plow through the rest of the book. Because Clarke was soundbite city today. I'd rock in the new years with him any day.

So if you want to see the Casshan/Casshern/whatever-the-hell-you-call-it deal, perhaps you might be equally excited to learn of appleseed. The trailers make it look quite good. The usual anime lots of violence and guns and superhuman strength and evil robots, from what I gather. Perhaps I'm oversimplifying, but I bet I'm right.

A little CGI-cel-shaded goodness. We'll see how it turns out. Who needs plots or characters when you can just have cool special effects? Of course, that's what Sony thinks will power "Hellboy" forward, but I think they're making a mistake in that case. Besides, you don't want to go up a week later against the punisher. Dolph Lungren or no, that'll be the end of hell-boy.

I spoke with Deborah last night, and due to some circumstances beyond her control, she's actually going to be forced to leave her current abode in the commonwealth.

The good news is that she'll be joining the fun here.

For all you guys who applied, I'm personally sorry things didn't work out. Many of you seemed like fairly cool individuals. (In fact, a couple of you I dreaded sending the announcement to, because you appeared to be fun-loving and didn't deserve such an abrupt e-mail.) Hopefully I'll get a chance to meet those of you coming for the summer months, especially anyone on the progressive side of things.

This whole process has left me with a better feeling than the last time around, but things could still be improved greatly. I've been on both sides of the coin for the past four years, so I think I can illustrate the gaps in the system well. The principal problem, of course, is that a renter has no idea what kind of person a rentee will turn out to be. Unlike checking someone's credit score, there's no way to determine whether an individual has been a good roommate in the past, will be in the present, or even has the cash flow to pay checks on time. Most people living in group situations are young, so a credit-check isn't helpful, and does little to establish a certain person's lifestyle. Further compounding the problem is that in DC, housing is incredibly expensive, so the pool of applicants available to rent a room shrinks considerably. Finally, although finding summer month people isn't too difficult (because of DC's intern subculture) finding yearlong people is much, much harder. Throw in standard caveats against pets and you're out even further. I personally want people (if they smoke) to smoke outside. There goes even more opportunities.

Of course, all these problems can be solved easily: I could move to a single bedroom apartment. But then I'd lose my garden, my roof and the ability to sun and grill outside. I'd lose the ability to throw huge parties. I'd lose the ability to play my music loud, knowing that the entire house is mine. In short, I'd lose the coolest part of my mostly maudlin life. That's unacceptable. But because of the wacky DC housing market, I can't even afford a house with a yard in the sketchiest parts of town. I've always been willing to trade security for square footage (although I would want to be close to a metro and within walking distance of DC hotspots like Adams-Morgan and Dupont Circle) but DC has become so gentrified even the unsafe side of town is too pricey for a middle income person.

This, then, is the real problem: DC has no houses for young, single, middle income earners to purchase. If it did, I'd buy one in a heartbeat and rent it out. But it doesn't. So the long, complex dance continues.

"By invading Iraq, the president has greatly undermined the war on terrorism."

Richard Clarke, today, telling the truth. The book is great so far.

I bought Richard Clarke's book yesterday. I only made it through the introduction +20 pages before my lunch was over. Hopefully I can plow through it tonight...it's a great read so far. It does kind of remind of a certain someone, walking down to the beach, who got distracted by a couple of snakes. Or maybe more appropriately, a total babe. Either way, knowledge alone cannot prevent destruction.

I like the idea of the monkeys giving interviews though...or of Dick Cheney wearing a godawful shiny suit and a pair of wings.

Yeah, I get to work early. Then all hell breaks loose. I still haven't had time to even go through the e-mails sent during my absence. I'm not a very happy camper right now. But, even though I'm still here, in the grand scheme of things, they're pretty petty problems. They just ended up destroying my time today, and will undoubtably do so again tomorrow. Oh, well.

The sun is out, I am up early and things are looking good for my vacation shortened week. For some reason there's blood on my shoulder. Perhaps an accident while shaving, although, you'd think I'd notice something like that. Despite my beach trip, I am still far too white for my own taste.

Time to get to work. On time. Yay! Hopefully I'll have a lengthy lunch break in which I can compose some reviews. We'll see.

Life is too good, too perfect in its completeness, too exacting in its detail, to leave a casual viewer with anything other than amazement. For an experienced watcher, the smallest item leaves a large mark, a Jamesian novel writ large, a Faulknerian stream of conciousness dammed by the tiniest pebble.

I do not wish to cause a ripple: I wish to rip and rend the meniscus, causing nothing to be left of water and wetness, let sand and sea meet with friction, elements of oil and vinegar mixed until naught remains but discord itself. Too many alliterative adjectives, the discordant chorus sings, you say? To hell with you, I retort. I may be Ozymandias in your eyes, but my vision fixes, star-crossed or not, upon a future not yet determined.

I see a perfect world. I see an island, and my tired soul upon its shores. I see a face I have not met, an enchanting laughter I have not heard, a thought that has not crossed my mind. I see an argument to end all battles, a series of verbal blows that cross over without intention. I see innocence corrupted, miles traversed as if meters, pleasantries and secrets exchanged without the knowledge of either's true meaning. A million miles between us and yet I cannot point to a single fault, to a flaw in my perfect plan. Two movies, two books, two suns have led my thoughts astray to a realization of how proper things actually are. At the same time said media have indicated a similar flaw, an inherent problem in the system that cannot by cured by will alone.

I learned recently of a religion where all internal infections are associated with a spiritual weakness. I wanted to go and infect them with my cynicism, to see them laid low by any maladies I myself had survived. The problem, you see, has nothing to do with prayer; it is a very real issue curable by drugs alone. This, you see, is the item referenced earlier. Though it may manifest itself in a thoughtful desire to increase one's own happiness, it is in response to a physical desire, to an empirical fact not brushed off with high words and ideology. Sitting, as I am, with new clothes, far more melanin than I left with, cash in my pocket and a roof overhead, it is the proverbial icing on the cake.

I'll throw up as many reviews tomorrow as I have time for. I wish now only to sleep, to let my defenses down as far as I like, to enjoy the moments where I am not on guard, not gaming for a better position. Always, as they say, have an ulterior motive.

When one's motives are clear, it may become necessary to lie to preserve the falsehood established earlier.