I wish I could say I return from my vacation refreshed and with a renewed sense of blogging purpose, but you know, within mere hours of reconnecting with my medium of choice I was looking around thinking, "Damn, what are yo-yos X, Y and Z yammering about now? Who signed me up for this? Is there any escape from noise?"
To tell you the truth, near the end of our sojourn in the midwest, a fair portion of which was spent visiting the in-laws, My Lovely Wife and I hit upon what we considered a very attractive plan: to entirely renounce adulthood and live out the rest of our lives under the roof of our hosts, not doing much of anything but enjoying the fabulous blonde brownies concocted by the household's patriarch, the fried chicken at Stroud's, the pork sandwiches at Arthur Bryant's, and the Playboy Strip steak/battered lobster tail do-it-yourself surf-and-turf at Jess and Jim's. Given such a diet, our abdication of adulthood would probably only burden our folks for a couple of years, tops. But what a way to go.
We proposed this plan, and it was received with surprising enthusiasm by our kin, although soon enough provisos involving us "doing stuff" in order to "earn our keep" were mentioned. We protested that this kind of missed the whole point of our proposal. Things did not become heated, but neverthless an insurmountable impasse presented itself.
My thanks to Mr. Aaron Aradillas for his contributions to the blog in my absence. We are working out a hopefully mutually satisfactory approach to part two of his Jonathan Demme survey. In the meantime...I am NOT going to the Toronto Film Festival this year. Poor planning on my part is the culprit, so all I can mourn is my own fecklessness. The bright side is that everybody and his or her mother in the cine-blogosphere is going; hence, this site can serve as, um, counter-programming.
And sorry about the "bitches." It is an attention-grabber, though, no?