Grindhouse
I went with my friend Alexander to see the Grindhouse Double Feature last night, and, as I said to him while we were walking out, "not all movies have to be LIKE that, but why can't they BE like that?" More love and energy and history and fearless abandon was poured into a single minute of that movie than what you often see in an entire film these days.

We stood out in the parking lot and smoked cigarettes and stared at each other in amazement and happiness. I think we both wished we could make something amazing that very moment. Then we went our separate ways, so for all I know Alexander did. I just went to sleep.

In the morning Angie complained that she could feel the testosterone sheeting off of me, but on reconsideration we decided that maybe the better term for it was "boy juice." Not a bad metaphor. There's something about that exuberant energy that is kinda...squeaky.

Ahh, who cares. I'll be squeaky. I'd love to see all creative people work with such unrepentant "let's make something beautiful and not give a crap" energy.