There are nails in my backyard. Orion stepped on a nail while wearing a shoe. The emergency room welcomed another McCurdy to its headquarters, with open arms i might say. My surgery is over. Incision is healing nicely but not soon enough. Textbroker is broke. There aren't any articles for me to write today unless I can crank out a 400 word bit on why we want to visit Vietnam. Ask my father to write that one. He'll tell you about the jungle rot. I am sure it is a lovely place.
So today's blog is all about rambling, gambling, cardiovascular finger exercising, mind-altering stimulation so that I can lift the lazy fog from my brain. It is very hard to get back to writing when you take a vacation. Bare with me (talking to myself) while I reignite the passion for my blog. Tomorrow I will have a subject that matters, a topic to destroy and a feeble attempt at assembling paragraph obscenities?
Off topic. I am thinking about starting a blog on cinema. Brother and I were raised on this particular subject. He is now working in the field of dreams and I would love to have a blog just on the films that inspired us, him. From Friedkin's Exorcist to Scorsese's Goodfellas, to an "unknown young director" my dad was dying for us to study. Just a guy named Quentin with a movie called Reservoir Dogs. Not a big deal. We were movie majestics. Creatures of Friday night habit. Had a small drug problem known as Little Caesars. We invited into our home a cop named Serpico, a priest named Karras and a struggling parolee trying to make his way to Straight Times. We did not all agree on the choice of movies. Dad can't stand my love for Todd Hayes and his Velvet Goldmine or all the bad B horror flicks that my mom so dearly loved. I got the best of both worlds, B horror and the sophistication of un cineaste! I remember going to my husband's parents house with two rented movies. We must have been around 19 and in one hand I held Norman Jewison's Jesus Christ Superstar and in the other was pre- Lord of the Rings King Peter Jackson, and his masterpiece, Dead Alive. Yes, we watched them both and the whole time I had the biggest grin on my face as if I was kid in a candy shop, oblivious to the reactions of my future in laws. I believe the next night I brought over And Justice For All. Must have been a Jewison kind of weekend. That's entertainment. I am passing down the love alright. Down to the McCurdy generation, but not so severe. My McCurdy children cannot stand horror. I am by myself with the Friedkins, Cravens, Carpenters. Even the Rob Zombies. What I can do is begin their cinema resumes starting with the Coppolas, De Palmas and Polanskis, right?
So to end this madness, surgery went well, did not write for Textbroker today, and The Panic in Needle Park is in my backyard!