I didn't go to the cinema today. Instead, I cleaned like a madman. I moved all of the furniture and vacuumed everything. I replaced all of the light bulbs in the house, cleaned my bathroom, did the dishes, bought a print for the kitchen, replaced some of the fixtures in the bathroom and threw away a whole bunch of crap. I cannot believe how clean my floor is.

Besides, none of the films I want to see is playing near me and I just don't feel like driving to Hollywood today after driving to Santa Monica by way of Valencia last night. (The party was really fun, though. I love shit like that sometimes. I just talked with people about whatever nonsense came into my head. When I don't know anyone I can occasionally have a really nice time. No prospects, though there was this adorable Peruvian/Wisconsonian optometrist at the party who looked to be about 26 and came to the soirée direct from the audience at the Pasadena Symphony.) End flashback.

I watched about half of Fanny and Alexander: right up until the intermission, and then Eduardo came home so I shut off the TV. I like to give him the use of his own television when he's here. It feels odd to be watching a movie on his huge television while he's relegated to his room, especially since he uses the TV so much.

The print I hung in the kitchen is pretty cool. It is a framed photograph of a bunch of dusty old wine bottles. Dusty wine bottles say something interesting to me: they are like purposefully neglected little treasures. They know their own value and are simply waiting to be used. Or perhaps they are like academia: full of interesting information and always surrounded by more of the same but rarely called upon.

I bought a play today: Fat Pig by Neil LaBute. I don't like Neil LaBute, but I read scene one because of the title and kinda got hooked. Plus I had a 25% off coupon at Borders. I also felt like finishing a book. I have been reading Genet's Le Journal de Voleur for weeks and it is fabulous but rough going.