rich eyes and poor hands

so yesterday i stayed awake for my entire shakespeare class. i fell asleep in print making though. maybe i have a disease.

this morning i rode my bike downtown to watch a movie. it isn’t a very long ride and it is all flat but let me tell you, it is quite treacherous. in san francisco i always wear my helmet and not out of guilt either. the best strategy for not dying in a horribly painful way while riding your bike here is: pretend like you are the biggest hummer in arnold schwarzenegger’s entire fleet. cars are like those bees that smell fear but they are also wusses and if they think you are bigger and tougher than them, they cower in fear or at least don’t run you over.

anyway, i went downtown to see “sherrybaby” which is maggie gyllenhaal’s newest movie. she was saying on the daily show this week how it would never be widely released unless the people of san francisco went and saw it this weekend. i went to the first show to give her my support. it’s really great, i think, that i am more involved in the career of a hollywood actress than i am with the real lives of anyone around here. healthy, i think. or maybe insane.

but still, i’m glad i went because not only is it a good movie but it made me cry. at this point i think it’s more acceptable to cry about the fictional struggles of a heroin addicted parolee child abuse victim who is just trying to stay clean and get her daughter to love her than it is to cry about anything in my life, which is pretty great even if maggie gyllenhaal is my only friend. some times it is nice to cry a tiny bit though.

i’m never doing heroin so don’t even ask.

i think i am supposed to clean the house this weekend but it looks clean to me. i’ll probably do it though. later.

if you are looking to do something for america: today would be a perfect day to boycott “the last kiss.” i actually saw a trailer the other day that said, “funny, heartwarming and with many insights.” cool. many insights. i’m sure that actually means, “many instances im which zach braff looks sadly at the sunset and says something completely meaningless while the emo music in the back ground swells. if emo music can even swell.”

i’d much rather see maggie gyllenhaal have sex with an old indian.

zach braff has a myspace blog for his stupid movie that i am totally against (movie and blog). mostly he just repeats the phrase “pimpin’ out my movie” over and over again. interesting how he and i use similar sex-worker metaphors when describing his life and work. though i believe i called him a whore which is a little different.

i used to love zach braff. it’s so sad to see what he has become.