Every year my father sends me a box of Li-Lac Chocolates for Valentine's Day. They're homemade chocolates from a little place in Greenwich Village; the champagne truffles are especially celebrated. He usually sends me a truffle assortment, because I am a truffle whore. Anyway, each year I get the box, and I always forget which truffles correspond to which flavors. So, for future reference: Milk chocolate with dark chocolate stripes = champagne truffle, and dark chocolate with white stripes = caramel truffle. My favorites, and the ones I always want to save for last. Good Lord, but they're divine.

Out of curiosity, I rented the first Six Feet Under DVD and watched the pilot and the next couple episodes. I had never seen the show before, due to my lack of HBO (and absence of friends who forced the show upon me, as Dave did with Sex and the City). Although I found some of the script a bit stilted and stage-y, I found myself really identifying with a lot of the characters. Just being in the hospital and constantly confronting the immediacy of death makes one more aware of mortality. And then, of course, there was all the stuff I went through during my pediatrics and surgery rotations which made me acutely aware of my own mortality. Although I've largely learned to push away and distract myself from thinking about death, the fear is still there. And there's also a kind of desperation to do all that I wish to do right now, in case my time is soon up. But my inability to accomplish all that I wish to do (or even a small fraction of what I wish to do) frustrates the hell out of me and sometimes makes me want to curl into the fetal position and dream away my life (I've never taken drugs, but maybe those would help?).

Anyway, back to the show. I hated the fake commercials in the first episode with a fiery passion, but thankfully, they don't seem to be a recurring element in the episodes. Peter Krause--damn but he's gorgeous. I loved Rachel Griffiths in past film roles, so she's welcome here. I love, love, love Lauren Ambrose. She's so natural on screen. I'm impressed with Frances Conroy as the mother, although the sudden outbursts are becoming repetitive and tiring (more the fault of the screenwriter than of the actress). I identify with David (Michael C.Hall) the most, of course. Well, I think that I'm probably a strange mix between David and Nate. But I feel David's pain most strongly--his feeling of entrapment because he's unable to let himself be happy. Urgh.

*sigh* Well, Howard Dean has announced that he's no longer campaigning for president. I got a little misty-eyed reading and hearing snippets of the speech he gave to his supporters today. I'm overstating here, but I feel like he was the lamb who was sacrificed in order to breathe life back into the Democratic Party. His early fury and bluster about Bush's failures, and the support he gained from doing so, led the way for other candidates to safely coopt his message in more media-friendly soundbites. And even with all of his fuckups, he was the only candidate, other than Kucinich, who convinced me (and had the history to support) that he was really passionate about reversing the Bush administration's agenda, bringing power back to the people rather than kowtowing to corporate interests, and discussing openly the motivation for the war in Iraq. Kerry and Edwards talk a good game, but they still strike me as rather shady. Especially Kerry. Yes, he was a war hero, and yes, he valiantly protested the Vietnam War after his return. But he voted for the PATRIOT act, he voted for the war in Iraq, he voted for No Child Left Behind. A significant portion of his funding comes from special interest groups. His voting history indicates that he's very much centrist. He's ugly as sin, he's a wooden speaker (not as wooden as Gore, but definitely without the fire of Dean, or the charm of Edwards), and he has a strange family including his gazillionaire ketchup heiress wife who babbles nonsensically at campaign events. Oh, but he's "electable," whatever that means. It does seem that Republicans view Kerry as much more of a threat than Dean to Bush's bid for reelection, but I still feel like Kerry lacks something, and still feel uneasy about his chances of winning the presidency.

I still haven't figured out how Dean's presidential bid flopped so spectacularly. I do know that I'm not one of those who "dated Dean, married Kerry." In fact, I suspect that if Kerry does gain the nomination, those who voted for him in the primaries might eventually wish for a divorce. But then again, anyone but Bush, right? *sigh*

The other day I met a wommon named Hooker Dough. Hooker Dough. No shit.

Well, I just saw Capturing the Friedmans (with all the DVD special features...I'm beginning to fall in love with the whole DVD thing, which is new to technologically retarded me). It blew my mind. The best movie I've seen in ages. The director Jarecki did an amazing job with this debut film of his (although I'm sure the shitload of money gained from being the founder and CEO of Moviefone helped him out quite a bit, as well as his luck to discover such a rich and complex and tragic story). The DVD included an interview with Jarecki and Charlie Rose, and Jarecki made the comment that these days in the media (spurred by our current President and his cronies) there seems to be such an emphasis on the sharp delineation between "good guys" and "bad guys," but this movie reveals that this is a fantasy, that there is a gray area between black and white, that people can do really horrible things while also being good in other ways. If nothing else, this film reveals the endless complexity of human nature. I've found myself drawn more to documentaries lately. This film, as well as the grand prize winner of the Full Frame Festival in 2002, The Last Just Man, packed such a wallop, I don't know if I'll ever recover. Damn.

This article, which features an interview with the sociologist Arlie Hochschild, attempts to explain why blue collar white men vote for Bush, even though his policies will probably benefit them less than the policies of Bush's Democrat opponents. I've been mystified by this phenomenon for quite some time. Hochschild's implication that blue collar white men resent womyn and minorities, and thus turn to the Republican party which they feel will champion themselves at the expense of others, is quite disturbing to say the least. As well as their falling for Bush's bullshit aw-shucks-I'm-just-like-you act. God, when I read something like "I voted for Gore, but I'd probably vote for President Bush if I had to do it again...I like that he's a Christian and that's he's not afraid to admit it. I can relate to that." , I just don't know what to do other than shrug helplessly.

I'm still fuming that CBS did not air the MoveOn.org anti-Bush ad during the Superbowl, after it aired ads supporting the Bush administration last year. As for the Janet Jackson boob fiasco, I won't waste much more space on that. All I will say is that the outrage is ridiculous (the French must be laughing their asses off at us right now...it's a fucking breast, for God's sake), and that it just highlights the insane hypocrisy of CBS. All this media hoopla over a fucking breast, while there are so many more newsworthy stories about how people's lives are fucked over by the Bush administration, both here in the States and overseas. It's sickening.

I finally saw Lost in Translation a few nights ago. It didn't quite live up to the hype for me. I don't know if this was due to my mood at the time, or to impossibly high expectations because of said hype. I had a few issues with the film. First of all, there is the autobiographical element. Charlotte, played by Scarlett Johanssen, was clearly a stand-in for Sofia Coppola herself, and John, played by Giovanni Ribisi, was clearly a stand-in for Spike Jonze. I've read that the ditzy blond actress was supposed to be Cameron Diaz, and she certainly was Cameron-like with her bubbly demeanor, TMI regarding body odor, and her kung fu movie (i.e. the Charlie's Angels remake). I don't know the details of the now-defunct marriage between Sofia and Spike, and so I can't take sides. However, I absolutely love Spike's work. Being John Malkovich and Adaption are among my favorite movies of all time, and impressed me greatly with their innovation. Spike's probably my favorite music video director as well...God, think of Weezer's "Buddy Holly," the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage," Fatboy Slim's "Weapon of Choice" and "Praise You"...I could go on and on. So, to see Spike portrayed in such a negative light in Lost in Translation left a bad taste in my mouth. And it really was Spike. The sunglasses, the clothes, the demeanor, the stuttering, the mannerisms...(if you check out his performance in Three Kings, you can see how strong the resemblance is)...it was definitely him. And so I couldn't hold back some irritation at Charlotte, and thus Sofia Coppola herself, for making me feel negatively about an artist that I greatly admire. This compromised my ability to enjoy any scenes with Charlotte, especially the scenes with John, with ditzy blond actress girl, or with Charlotte alone. Well, there is also the matter of some appalling interviews with Scarlett Johanssen which have dissipated my previous admiration of the actress (which existed in the first place because of her appearance in Ghost World).

Okay, my other beef with the movie (surprise, surprise): how the Japanese were objects of mockery. Why would a reasonably intelligent wommon ask a question like "Why do they mix up their l's and r's?" Other than to set up Bob's punchline, "For yuks"? Different languages have different sounds, and not all people were raised learning to speak the sounds used in the English language, dumbass! Gah! And it struck me as strange that the insanely cheezy red-haired lounge singer was good enough for Bob to sleep with, because she was white and American, while the Asian prostitute who asked him to "lip my stockings" was too repulsive to fuck. Cheating on his wife is cheating...but of course he would only cheat with a white chick. I hated that whole segment, actually. Well both segments--the "lip my stockings" segment and the "cheating-on-wife-with-cheezy-lounge-singer" segment. The latter plot twist just seemed too soap opera-ish for me. It served its purpose to create conflict between Bob and Charlotte, and to also help them realize how much they meant to one another, but surely there could have been a less predictable and cheezy way to do this. Ugh.

Things I liked: Bill Murray, the ending, the soundtrack, the cinematography, the title.

Bill Murray: Sofia Coppola has reported that she wrote this part with him in mind, and he took the role and completely kicked ass with it. He was transfixing in every scene...the subtlety of his performance was astounding. His voice, his fleeting facial expressions, his body language, his eyes...with ease and grace, he conveyed the myriad of this character's emotions and uncertainties. I'm not as familiar with his other performances as most other kids of my generation are (I've only seen him in Rushmore, and have never seen Meatballs or Ghostbusters or any other the other iconic Bill Murray movies), but I understand why he's always so celebrated as a comedic and, more importantly, an authentically human actor. Whenever I think about Bob, there is a pang of tenderness in my heart, and this is thanks to Mr. Murray. I think, other than the ending and the going-out-karaoke-scene, my favorite scene is when he's in the hospital waiting room, goofing around with the old Japanese lady, while Charlotte gets her foot examined. I just love that scene, the pure childish joy of it.

The ending: this was one of the director's touches which struck me as really lovely. Bob whispers something in Charlotte's ear before they part, and we, the audience, are not able to decipher it. It's their secret. It reminds me of the end of Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love when the main male character whispers his secret into the hole of a tree, and we don't hear what he says. In both cases, the characters keep something to themselves, and this gives them some privacy, a life outside of the world of the movie. Which makes them only seem more real, and more alive.

The soundtrack/cinematography: I thought the music was fantastic. Perfectly captured the mood of the film. And the cinematography, with those gorgeous shots of neon signs reflected on windows and dreamy off-kilter images, was also wonderful.

The title: "Lost in translation" refers not only to the fact that Bob and Charlotte are in a foreign country where they do not understand the language or the culture, but also how they are unable to communicate with their spouses or understand themselves. Only when they're with each other does the world make some sense. However, the strength of their mutual understanding can only occur under ephemeral circumstances (while they are away from their normal worlds and their spouses, while they are in their current stages of personal evolution). This is why they must part, to keep the purity of their spectacular connection.

Next up for me: Capturing the Friedmans! I've been dying to see this movie since forever. Woo!

We like the moon.

Curses. My friend Brian has gotten me addicted to vintage clothes shopping on ebay. At the moment I'm on the hunt for a cloche hat, the kind which graced the heads of ladies in the paintings of Edward Hopper, such as Chop Suey. I'm waiting for a supposedly mod vinyl trenchcoat in the mail. Someone stop me.

This week's This American Life includes a profile of Jerry Springer, aka the talk show host and former mayor of Cincinnati. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was blown away by his political speeches. They created a stirring of feeling inside which I rarely experience while listening to modern day politicians. I knew vaguely of his political career but I had no idea that he was such a gifted politician. I thought it was telling that even people who knew him from his talk show were caught in his spell as they listened to him talk, about how he immigrated to the States with his parents at the age of five after most of his family had been killed in the Holocaust, about how the rich should not be getting monstrous tax cuts and how this does little to help the economy or the poor. There was such raw passion in his voice, and what he said was poignant and appealed to common sense. He's a fascinating study of self-loathing. The revelation of his use of a prostitute while he was in office seems to have led to this downward spiral, resulting in his playing the foolish ringleader of a trash television circus. He doesn't seem to have forgiven himself for this public failing, even though, at least according to those interviewed on the show, everyone else forgave him and wanted him to continue to serve his community.

Song of the moment: "1979" by the Smashing Pumpkins. I can forgive Billy Corgan's bitchiness and egotism because he writes such damn good songs. This one is perfect for driving at night, and brings me back to aimless high school misadventures.