n'est pas

Someday I might get around to writing another entry chock full o' unnecessary melodrammy and the sort of angst best reserved for high-school journalkeepers. Until then, you get to learn how my mind works through recollections such as the following: ...whilst earlier mulling over my relatively torment-free day, I thought to myself: "torment...TORMENTED!" And that is what led to this entry...

"Gentleman, let's open up our movie with a ten minute shot of a spinning radish."



"This music would work better with women in bikinis shaking all over the place... I guess that's true of any music, really."



""It's up to you."
"It's okay. I can handle it."
"What I want to know is, what is this 'It' which is to him 'Up' and which he can perhaps 'Handle'."



I am pretty sure that American Idol has been on the television in my background for at least a half hour and I have yet to hear any singing.