It was one of those Valley Stream type mornings where you run into Steve Buscemi at your dry cleaners and tell him you love his work and choices and he is nice and then when you ask for a picture he says no and your first response is to be pissy, but you let it slide as you realize he is completely gray and looking shitty and he is even telling Mr. Lee that he is off to L.A. next week and you realize he is realishing noncamera status… and anyone who did Tree’s Lounge deserves patience and resptect and after the rug really ties the whole room together and Brooklyn Abides and not everything has to be photographed for the blog (WHAT AM I SAYING?!)
So you come home and put on the New Springsteen and Major Tom shows up pissed about a new job he didn’t get and then we put on Sideways and soon it is off to the wine store for Pinot Noir and I’m making chicken sandwiches and our day is retarded bu two hours. We watched the commentary… which is probably funnier than the movie even… and possibly more wine sodden based on laughter of actors… not to mention the audience
It was a really good shoe… bravo!
It has always seemed to me that the two greatest jazz singers lived in a Jungian dialectic of Manic Happiness and Bitter Sadness. There is a kind of teenage graduation you go through, where you say Billie isn’t all of the blues, because Ella exisists too…. some say Ella can’t sing the blues, cause she’s too happy. I say: Happiness is part of the blues, period… and Ella sings it best…. The rapture, the manic, the whatever side of the opposite coin of Billie Holliday.
