Pynchon

Hello. Back again.

At this juncture I need to point out that last night when I was 'tossing and turning in my Sister's double bed' I was actually alone at the time. Incest? No. Not cool.

So, where are we? This might navigate around time and space a bit.

I have chronic stomach ache. The vomiting has stopped. The shits continued, but the fury had abated somewhat. Now that I have taken some tablets, the shits have stopped completely. I have no appetite. I have only had a quarter of a ham sandwich and a small bowl of porridge all day and numerous cups of tea. If I still feel like this tomorrow, I will probably have another day off work. I'm sure that The Company will miss me.

Lorraine arrived at New Street station on Saturday night sporting an eye that would not look out of place at a Marilyn Manson photo shoot. Young children screamed in horror. Goths asked for her autograph. A young Spanish priest made the sign of the evil eye and hissed the word "diablo" at her.

(Enough, already. I really must stop making fun of Lorraine. It's too easy.)

Anyway, Lorraine didn't look good.

Lorraine went to the Eye Hospital today. They confirmed that it was "standard" Uveitis and nothing to worry about. Lorraine has creams and eye drops, which she has been using. The redness in her eye has subsided, but she still has appalling light sensitivity. This afternoon, in the twilight of the living room (it was quite a grey day outside), we watched a couple of episodes of "Alias" series 4 on DVD, but even that was a struggle for her. Then, when it got dark, we left the lights off and listened to the radio for a couple of hours.

Lorraine and I talked a lot. Probably the longest talk we have been forced to have for ages. It was civilized and it cleared the air.

She said that she is not a sex object and that is how I treat her. I told her that there is nothing wrong with (either of us) being treated like a sex object, occasionally. She said that I don't understand how important her job is to her. I agreed with her. Other than to earn me money, my job with The Company is not important to me at all and that I had no respect for any managers at The Company, except for her, at all. I said that to me she would rather do anything than go out with me at the weekend. She said that all I ever wanted to do was to go to the cinema. I disagreed with that and asked her to suggest something that she wanted us to do together. She said that she does not want sex because she feels pressured into wanting it. I told her that the feeling I got was that if I did not keep reminding her about sex, she would forget completely that it used to be a part of our relationship. She said that she wanted things to get better and I said the same.

She said that she still loved me and I told her that I still loved her. That was good. Yes?

I thought it was a productive chat.

Lorraine has gone to bed. She is snoring. I can hear her. (I'm not making fun of her. She is snoring.)

What else? Oh, yes. On Saturday I went to see "Inland Empire".



The worst film I have ever seen! Absolutely terrible. A catastrophe. Rubbish. Utter drivel. Shite from start to end. Utterly confusing. Mr. Director, please note that random scenes thrown together do not a plot make. Crap!

(What was that? It's a David Lynch movie? Oh, that changes everything.)

It's a masterpiece! Absolutely brilliant. A challenging piece of cinema. Lynch fiercely abandons all notions of what constitutes a linear narrative to come up with something truly surreal, experimental and freewheeling. It's a motion picture jigsaw puzzle, with Lynch trusting his audience to put that puzzle together. It's wonderful!

Ahem.

Well here's the rub. I have loved David Lynch movies with a passion. He is a true artist and his palette is the cinema screen. But with most artistes pushing at the boundaries of their art, there is always going to be a moment when you wonder if the artist is just taking the piss. Lynch might indeed be taking the piss with this film. I don't know.

What is "Inland Empire" about? It's about an actress working on a movie. It's about a prostitute working Hollywood Boulevard. It's about the unfunniest sitcom of all time. It's about a movie that had to be abandoned after the two leads were murdered. It's about girls dancing! I don't know what "Inland Empire" is about.

But did you like the film, John? Yes I did. "Inland Empire" is definitely something different and different should be celebrated. I would like to see it again, if only to try to piece it together, assuming that there is something to be pieced together. (It took me 3 watches to get "Mullholland Drive". Sadly, I'm not so clever.)

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Movies