Into A Zombie
Another Netflix movie: Snatch, a British comedy, one might say it borders on the cute - which is a death sentence in some circles - but it never crosses the line. Brad Pitt does a tasty job as the tattooed Gypsy prize fighter. I would recommend it to those who've watched Performance with interest, not because it's got great music, but for its fondness for old timey British gangster rap.
You know something about old timey British gangster lingo?
Only from watching Performance a dozen or so times and now, it seems Snatch. Literary British gangster rap. I have no illusions that actual British gangsters talk like this, but it must have been fun for the writers and the actors to play with the dialogue.
I bought a bottle of Ozeki Sake this evening along with the usual half gallon jug of 80 proof Wild Turkey to replenish the cupboard. The cupboard was bare last night. Ozeki is “a wholesome California sake beverage”, it says so on the bottle: $5 for 750 milliliters, tastes not unlike the stuff they sell for $8.50 a flask at my local Sushi establishment. Which means my local Sushi establishment is marking it up something like 600% - a tad above the usual outrageous 300% vigorish they ask for wine - but what the hell, some truths, self evident or otherwise, don't make you any wiser. I followed watching Snatch with Suicide Kings. Another roll in the hay: a wellspring of lighthearted entertainment. A nice Christopher Walken performance. Well worth the effort, some nice surprises in the surprises.
The last day of the month, a long day at work, plans to see Dame Edna at the Curran Theater with friends Friday evening. Dame Edna. Well, what the hell. I remember her from her role in the Ally McBeal series and I've seen her on the odd late night talk show. A good chance to have a couple of drinks and dinner at Foley's in San Francisco, but all this fast paced excitement is turning me into a zombie.
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