Speaking of South America, I finally finished my fourth Murakami book “Norwegian Wood.” Recently he’s been my author of choice every time I’ve needed reading material for a long-ass flight. But because I slept a lot on the planes during this trip I didn’t get very far in this novel, despite the fact that it’s a little less than 300 pages.
Not the happiest of tales. And I’d just watched “House of Sand and Fog” on TV too. Combined, those two stories had four-and-a-half suicides. If the Steelers had lost to the pathetic Giants on Saturday or if “House of Sand and Fog” didn’t feature at least one well-lit shot of Jennifer Connelly’s ass, I might’ve stabbed myself.
I also watched the extended version of “Return of the King.” The theatrical version was over 3 hours long, so you can imagine how long the uncut version was. If you guessed 58 hours, you’d be right. Mother of God, it’s as if they filmed every single second of these characters’ lives. If you’d always wanted to watch the dwarf read an entire newspaper, or the elf apply conditioner to his hair, or Sauron taking a long, contemplative shit (He wipes upward, BTW.), you can now. Of course I loved every minute of it. Lord of the Rings fucking ruled, and it saddens my geek self that we’re back to the substandard Star Wars trilogy.
As you can see, I haven’t been too social since I’ve been back. Gorging yourself on vodka and Brazilian beer for ten straight nights can do that to you. I’ve been cruising on autopilot, more or less, in an empty beige sky. Every once in a while an indicator light will turn on, and I’ll put food in my belly or reply to an email. But everything’s been humming along quietly.