My Life To Live (1962)

Anyone ever seen this film? I don't know why I never had before, but it's probably going to be in my all-time top five after I watch is eight more times. If you're at all into cool films, find it sometime. To be fair, I've been in a '60s French Film mood lately, so if you're not up for that sort of thing on a normal day, wait until you're in a '60s French Film mood yourself. I will also point, again, expressly, to my firm belief that it's good enough to not have to wait for said mood to arise, so-maybe this weekend!

My tattoo guy isn't working at a tattoo shop anymore. I don't have all the inside scoop, but for now, it looks like there's only two tattooers at the old standby, Immaculate. I actually do like Rick's stuff, up in Cottonwood, and his black&grey in particular, but I feel like I have specific expectations that might not mesh that well with the way he seems to express himself with artistic whims: I just want to be a little more in control than I'd feel with him. Maybe I'm wrong-do tell.

School has begun, I'm exhausted: got tons of cool books assigned this semester, paid more than I wanted to pay for all those cool books, so hopefully I'll read every page of them, getting my money's worth. Lately, as in the past three months, I've been so into the poetry of Frank Bidart that nothing else matters. That's an overstatement, but for all you boys and girls who shy away from poetry but like the deep crap, his book Star Dust is the most moving book I've read since The Unbearable Lightness of Being, in December of 2000. No shit. Now, sure, I've read more amazing books in the past six years, but nothing has pointedly changed my life in such a way as Star Dust. Impress you friends and lovers by buying a book of poetry that's actually good.

It's cold, but my heater's working. It's cold, but I like it.