"Into the void."

Day 2 of life among the physically impaired. Everyone Says I Love You is on tv. I forgot Billy Crudup is in this; boy is he dreamy. Also, Vincent Gallo extends his presence a few times as Julia Roberts' husband. Honestly, I consider this to be one of Woody Allen's most entertaining movies. Anyway, onto more important things.

Apparently there's a clusterfuck of a Michael Jackson memorial service going down in the city of angels now. I didn't really keep track of any of the hullaballoo post hearing about his death from the guy who works in the toll booth right before you get on the Bay Bridge, and I think we can all agree that the whole thing has erupted in a fashion most tasteless. But, as long as we're gripped to the topic, might I (better late than never) take a moment and give a nod to Michael Thomas' piece in the NY Times regarding the star's death? I don't know. Maybe, for me, who inevitably bears some kind of displacement whenever something like this--some national tragedy--occurs, it's easier to find comfort when the events are stripped of their newscast format and translated into something more familiar. Like prose. A slice out of one pretty good writer's memoir. The anecdotes about his brother, I found so appropriately included.

Alas, a seemingly most fitting conclusion to this post. This movie is so quintessentially, ridiculously Woody Allen: