Dakota

Dil: I'm loud, darling, but never cheap.
- The Crying Game</font>

I finished watching The Crying Game on Showtime. I always forget how much I really like that movie.

Knowing full well what the big 'don't-tell' secret of the film is, it really goes beyond that. Past the Psycho shower scene, there's an entire film... And the same is with this movie. A lot of people who've never seen it will probably think it ends with that revelation. But it doesn't; there are actually three distinct chapters, the first and last deeply political (IRA/Britain) and the second that of an awkward love story.

I saw it a few years ago at my Dad's. It came out and 1992 and my sister Sharon thought she ruined the ending for me by telling me what everyone was pretending was common knowledge. It's the Keyzer Soze / Rosebud concept... You tell them all who's the killer in the Scream mask 'cause when you're a teenager it's cool to know first and ruin it for your friends. I don't know why. But I used to - and sometimes still - do it, too. These day, though, Matt usually asks me to if he honestly doesn't care to watch the actual film.

But I went in there knowing... and still shocked through my skin. There was more to it. It's really a brilliant, uncomfortable movie. You can't watch that and feel comfortable... there's such tension between each frame. But it's brilliant all the same. And I know virtually nothing about Irish politics, and it's still effective.

I adore Miranda Richardson. As sap-like The Evening Star is, I love Miranda Richardson in it. I love her in Sleepy Hollow, too.

And of course, the beautiful Jaye Davidson, who hasn't had a hit since Stargate, but always manages to score a crossword puzzle down/across.

I don't know what the fuck is up with Fleet.... They have apparently sent my access card to Plainfield. Potentially again. I don't know where the first one went.

But, they had the Plainfield address. Fair enough; it's on my ID. Even though I told them what address I was using (West Paterson), they used the Plainfield address. Ok. So, who knows where the card is 'cause Joyce says she never got it.

I go to Fleet and correct their address. New card issued. Joyce calls this morning saying I'm getting Fleet mail. What the fuck? Why do they even still have that address on file? It's just weird!

And of course frustrating. I need that card. I need new costumes. I need to buy these costumes with that card. My black Frank corset needs to be replaced. My Brad Floorshow gear needs to be replaced. I need a gold gauntlet. Now that I have the money, I can't actually spend it...

I'd be - and will be - angrier if I wasn't just jolted awake by the phone in the first place. But I'm just perplexed! She's sending all my recent mail and I should get it by Friday.

Good morning! Ah well, I'm smiling at least.

I set a dish towel on fire today.

And now I am going to sleep.

There was shoveling... Angel enjoyment (as disturbing as it was), and I even watched Smallville. Smallville bugs me a little, but it's ok.

The big thing I haven't written about yet is still at large... And tonight is apparently not on it's way to fixing it.

Not my idea.