Today, In Los Angeles, It Rains

My basketball predictions are moot of course. My champion lost on the first day, my two-time alma mater on the second. Well, at least the Lady Gophers are still alive. And Cal. State Fullerton’s in the NIT (the lesser tournament), at least for a few hours. Go Titans.

But not everyone is a basketball fan. So…

The script is shaping up very nicely, thanks especially to the hard work of the Third Writer, he who will not be named because I haven’t written up the confidentiality forms yet. The scientist is less mad. The reporter is more important. And everything tastes better in threes.

And, to be very secretive because who knows if my co-workers read this and sure, they probably don’t but still… anyway, there may be very good news in the soon-to-be-here future. I just have to say yes. And there will be no more long drives to the big office, just short walks to the home office, the one that shares a wall with the bedroom. I just have to say yes. I’ll probably say maybe, you know… test the whole thing out, make sure it agrees with me.

My first ever blog-based film review: Laurel and I saw “Millions” last night. It was alright but why not just have one ending? Maybe two. Seven endings is too many. The thing with the Mormons was funny. And the Euro subplot was brilliant. And that Danny Boyle could direct a caterpillar scaling a phonebook and it would still be visually cool. It’s too bad that the guy sitting in front of us who looked exactly like Ben Kingsley in the screen’s reflected light turned out to look hardly anything like Ben Kingsley in the clear outdoor streetlamp light of Wilshire Boulevard.

My first ever blog-based music review: I finally listened to Elvis Costello’s “The Delivery Man.” Much has been said about U2’s longevity. But Elvis has been around even longer and at the top of his game mostly. Sure, there’s the obligatory “raunchy authentic” song that he sticks on every album to make it seem that he’s a down-home delta blues man and not a well-educated Brit. But he gets it out of the way with Track 1. And there’s the too-clever wordplay on “Heart Shaped Bruise.” But otherwise it’s stellar and stately and lovely. And have you ever wondered what it is that makes his eyes so beady and his inhales so stubborn? It must be the melody pills he takes every morning, the ones that make his counterpoints (a word I do not know the meaning of, musically) so lilting.

Finally, here’s a wholly agreeable explanation of why the short story form is so often preferable to the long story form: http://mobylives.com/Almond_story_lover.html