I saw Inside Man a few days ago. And even though afterwards I thought this was all very silly and improbable, I really enjoyed it during the film - right from the opening city shots with its accompanying Bhangra song playing over it. I found that a tad disorienting and very cool. I loved trying to puzzle out what the bank robber was up to, and was glad I couldn't. I really enjoyed watching all the actors - Denzel Washington as a smart cop, Jodie Foster as a coldly smart power broker, Willem Dafoe as a SWAT team leader, and most of all watching and listening to Clive Owen. It must have been great fun playing the cool, crafty, always in control criminal.
So here I am on a workaround machine, because my PowerBook is in the shop. And of course I don't have most of my archived files - and I don't have a full copy of my 30 GB music library. I did have my iPod, with at least about 3.5 GB of my favorite music, so that could tide me over ... but I like listening off the PowerBook rather than off the iPod, when I'm at the office. This is where PodWorks comes in - it lets you move files back from your iPod to your Mac. Buzz graciously retrieved my license number for me, and I moved my stash to the TiBook for my convenience.
My PowerBook has developed narcolepsy, falling asleep repeatedly. I tried resetting the PMU, but to no avail. Dropped it off at our internal repair facility (sure is good working for the manufacturer), and am working off my older TiBook until I get it back. This means I shall be offline out of the office - I don't think it's worth the trouble to redo all my settings and logins.
Picked up Something Borrowed from the bookshelf at my hosts' house in Austin, and Barbara didn't just let me borrow it, but actually bequeathed it to me (thank you, Barbara!). I finished on the plane back to San Jose, and I liked it better than I wanted to. Girl falls in love with best friend's fiancé, fiancé waffles a bit, best friend turns out to be a manipulative bitch, but girl is unwilling to ask for what she wants. It all tied up a little too neatly, but still ... I liked it. I guess I want to believe it is possible.
And it turns out there is a second telling of the story, or its continuation, told from the point of view of the aforementioned manipulative bitch, titled Something Blue, which I may just put on my reading list too.
The bacon is sizzling in the oven, a stick of butter is melting in a small saucepan, and I am crushing corn flakes. That can only mean one thing ... I am making J's bacon cookies again. I am going to post the recipe here too, to make sure it won't get lost, because that would be downright tragic.
• 1/2 pound bacon
• 1/2 cup butter
• 3/4 cup brown sugar*
• 1 egg
• 1 cup of flour
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 cups of multi-grain flakes or corn flakes
• 1/2 cup raisins
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Cook bacon on a cookie sheet until very crisp, drain well and break into 1/2 inch pieces.
3. Melt a stick of butter on low heat in a small saucepan. (You can do this while the bacon is cooking - but don't do anything else until you're done breaking bacon ... wouldn't that be a great name for a band? Breakin' Bacon.)
4. Beat together butter and sugar till light and fluffy.
5. Beat in egg.
6. Combine flour and baking soda; stir into butter mixture.
7. Stir in bacon, mult-grain flakes and raisins.
8. Drop rounded teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Space 2 inches apart.
9. Bake for 15-18 minutes.
10. Remove to rack to cool - about 2 minutes, then remove from rack.
11. Tell all your friends about your bacon cookies. Watch them repeat incredulously, "BACON cookies?", and make mental notes on how many say that's just plain wrong, how many think this is very cool and marvelous, and how many recall correctly that you are just a total weirdo.
*I've switched to using brown sugar in this recipe. Tastes even better, I think.
Jo Spanglemonkey suggests a memoir blogging exercise: write about a pivotal moment in your life. If you were writing a memoir, this would be the moment everything leads up to. The One Thing that happens.
My mind goes blank for a few seconds - how can I possibly come up with One Thing that is important in my life? And then one memory emerges, unbidden, old and crusty yet still as vivid as all those years ago, and I am appalled. Why this one? Is that really what my life is about? Am I defined by heartbreak? I do not like this at all. I resemble this remark ...
Happily ensconced at WoolfCamplet at Squid's house, glad to see my fellow campers Grace and Mary and Jen and Em and Liz and Jo and Squid of course, and thrilled to meet Ep and Jon. Jo raises the question of Memoir Writing. Why indeed do we write? And why so publicly? I know I am not contented to write offline any more. Why that is, I can't really say.
On a sorta related side note, Rich and I were talking about blogs last week, as I reported from SXSW. One of the panels on surveys mentioned that the most widely read blogs are the personal blogs. And I pointed out to Rich that the term "personal blogger" seems derogatory, especially in the media, and how Dooce got described not as a "personal blogger", but an "IDENTITY blogger". Rich responded that he considers himself a memoir blogger.