Sunday afternoon I took in a matinee, alone. I was on a date with myself in Princeton. Being single again means dating myself, which I’ve always enjoyed. The day began with a nice drive, during which I blasted random Stevie Nicks songs while trying to sing along but realizing that I didn’t really know the words. Parked in the section of Princeton that’s kind of ghetto (who knew?), and walked over to the Record Exchange. The great thing about going on a date with yourself is that you can flip through CDs for a hours, without anyone clamoring in your ear about being bored/hungry/tired.
When did the Record Exchange change hands from a hipster haven to a mecca for trashy people? There were so many trailer-park dwellers and biker types types I felt like I was in Bizarro Princeton Record Exchange. Plus there was a random farter who seemed to be following me throughout the store. I couldn’t escape the stench of this person’s ass, try as I might.
My lesbian taste in music reared its head as I handed over plastic to pay for a Lilith Fair double CD, 10,000 Maniacs Unplugged, and an ’80s compilation CD. All that for just under $11.
Tuckered out from my shopping excursion, and wondering how much money I had left, I sat on a bench in front of the theatre and balanced my checkbook. Dios mio. I am leaking money like I actually have some to blow. Stop me. Please.
Back to Volver. Did you know Penelope Cruz had tig old bitties? It was news to me. If you see Volver, you’ll be treated to a variety of birds-eye-view shots of her breasts.
Good movie. I’d forgotten how campy Almodovar’s style is. I was surprised during the first reaction shot, when the melodramatic music swelled in the background. But the actual plot will hold your attention, even if the melodrama slightly annoys you. I think Volver means “to come back.” The movie is about women coming back from different things–bad marriages, sexual abuse, death, madness, the list goes on. It’s kind of a phoenix story, as the different women find ways to rise from the ashes.
In one scene, Penelope Cruz sings a song that somehow brought me to tears. I’m not sure if that was her voice or not, but its lilting sadness broke my heart.
After that I worked out, baked some corn muffins that tasted like shit, made myself a martini, and watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I think I’m going to stop eating and cut my hair short so I can become the black Audrey Hepburn.
