So, Friday morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, with the feeling of having made some dreadful mistake, and felt so anxious about nothing in particular all day long, that my skin was heating up from the inside. I went on to spend the entire day talking myself through every little thing like a complete lunatic, trying to calm the hell down, and wondering if I'd finally lost my rag. A couple of Negra Modelos at a totally incredible Oaxacan restaurant (where I also ate grasshoppers, BTW) later that night, and I felt better; but still had a touch of the freakies on Saturday morning. There's no punchline here, I'm sorry to say; it was just really strange and disconcerting.
It's hard to believe that my departure for foreign lands is only about two months away, now. I'm really looking forward to it, but I'd be lying if I didn't own up to being a little nervous about so wholesale a change. I'm not concerned that I won't be ok, but the house I live in now is the place I've lived longest in my whole life, and my son has lived here since he was two years old. This is a big move, and I've been looking a long time before the leap. Either that, or I'm just freaking out about my dire financial straights and how I have to actually get to work on my taxes. Oy! If only that cup could pass me by!
In other, more awesome news, it turns out that it pays to bitch on your blog about how you didn't manage to get Nine Inch Nails tickets. A longtime fellow total geek for The Rez mailed to offer up a spare! I seriously could not be more totally stoked, so THANKS, BRYAN.
From what I hear, there have been some changes in that it appears cornstarch is not on the docket this time around, and reports are that Reznor has impressive new biceps, a new fancy hairstyle, and has not forgotten how to say the F-word. On the other hand, I've heard a couple of (shhh!) bootlegged recordings of his latest shows, and it seems a bit like the same old, same old. He does sound a bit less shrill, but he's only at the beginning of his impending ordeal, and for the life of me, I can't imagine why he's breaking out some of the old chestnuts that have inexplicably made the recent songlists. At one point he tells the crowd he's tortuing them with new songs, but Trent, if you're out there and taking advice from the peanut gallery (yeah, RIGHT!), I think it's time to back away from "Terrible Lie" and "Starfuckers, Inc." with your hands in the air. However, since I'm choosing the setlist here, please feel free to rock "Burn" as hard as possible. I like it when you declare yourself the angel of my destruction.
Aye, me. Maybe more of the new CD will be ready for primetime at the end of May. A girl can dream.
I don't know why I keep waiting for His Dark Raging Majesty to make a gentle piano record, but he's going to be 40 this year, and I know without doubt that he has grace in him. I say that like I want to direct the next chapter, but that's not it: I just want him to surprise and thrill me, and not with bigger muscles and more intense yowling. Still, it does my heart good to hear that he still roars, and no one rocks the F-word with more aplomb. I hope the new CD is Trent-tastic, whatever that means at this juncture. We shall see. If I have to be patient longer, I will.
Finally, I saw The Ballad of Jack and Rose today, and want to recommend it to all y'all. It's one that's going to require some thinking, and while, at first, I wasn't sure it was wholly successful, it's rich, and it's been growing in my mind all day. It's beautifully acted by everyone, especially Daniel Day Lewis, whose every breath is absolutely flawless and natural, and worth the price of admission all by itself. It's a film that leaves you to your own thoughts and feelings, which is always a pleasure. It's also got big, shamelessly literary intentions, and God knows, I'm never going to be one to squawk about that kind of thing. I was especially moved by Jack's slow realization that while he thought he'd been a noble idealist, separate and clean, he'd really only defined himself in rigid oposition to the targets of his self-righteous scorn; and that even though he thinks he's ruined his daughter, her strength is very real and feminine, and comes not from what he sought to instill, but is an outgrowth of his complicated intentions and her own sense of self.
I really loved it.
Also, this is awesome.