Squid hits the fan. Toyko fetish.

Sunday made fried squid with Tegin and started to watch Rushmore but we paused the movie to talk about something-or-other and never hit play again and an hour later decided to put in Lost In Translation because it's been running through my mind to see it again and the day before I found a bottle of Suntory whisky at this liquor store in Beacon Hill and now I can watch Lost In Translation and it will really be Suntory Time! Tegin's not much for whisky but she tried it and said it's surprisingly inoffensive, without that yucky peat smoke flavor. No peat, some floral, some sweet, I think it's an ok whisky, but doesn't have the fullness and oomph of real Scotch. But who cares, it's Suntory Time! Moh een-tehn-seety, mistah Hallis! Eeen-ten-suh!

I've only seen Lost In Translation once before and worshipped the movie ever since but this time I watched it I was noticing some really different things, some things that were almost the opposite of my impressions the first time. Maybe cuz me and Tegin were constantly arguing through the whole thing. I still think the film is sublime and amazing and perfect, but after seeing Marie Antoinette I'm afraid I may have to agree with the assertion that Sophia Coppola is just a hack who has a hard-on for herself. Not that there's anything wrong with having a hard-on for yourself, long as you continue to make genius awesome film. See: Quentin Tarantino. Dammit, Sophia, would you just make some more movies that are sheer brilliance, magnificent in atmospheric beauty, subtle yet irresistibly powerful, emotionally resonant with essential human experience? Could you do that for me please? Thanks babe, luv ya.