reviews from my drunk self
Sunday, January 15 2012
I had the house all to myself for most of the day while Gretchen was in Rosendale, first to see a telecast of an Italian opera and then to watch the new John Sayles movie about how the United States fucked the Phillipines. I took some pseudoephedrine and tried to apply myself to productive activities. But at 5:00pm, I started drinking, beginning with the drinkably-acrid Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager, which comes in cheap twelve packs at Hannaford (you must drink this as cold as possible).
Last night at Baba Louie's, I'd been part of a conversation about creepy movies, and had remembered Tricia (whose Bulgarian royalty character occasionally works as a BRAWL celebrity judge) mentioning a Lars von Trier film called Antichrist, so today I downloaded it and this evening I tried to watch it. But it turned out to be a monumental bore, despite numerous scenes designed to shock. A penis ejaculated blood, a clitoris got snipped off, and a leg got a hole drilled through it so a grindstone could be bolted to it (I kid you not). Maybe if I'd been sober it all would have made more sense, but I can usually trust movie reviews from my drunk self [which I am stenographically relating as a sober person].
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