Myself, I prefer positive drinking.

I think I want to soul-marry Barbara Ehrenreich. I've been reading her insightful and biting book Bright-Sided, which systematically tears the positive thinking movement a new A-hole over the course of 200 or so very readable pages. She's got a well-researched argument against everything: the Pink Ribbon Campaign for breast cancer awareness, The Secret, evangelism, the link between positive psychology and the economic crisis. Sure, I know, I said before that I was trying to unburden myself from all the things that piss me off for no reason, but one thing I'll never stop being mad about is when an industry is built up around the unhappiness and dissatisfaction of the individual struggling to find her place in society. So, you know.

Ehrenreich is amazing. You might also have heard of her 2002 book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In America. In it she describes her time spent undercover, living below the poverty line and working as a Florida waitress. I haven't read it yet, and I'm not always a huge fan of the whole journalist in disguise thing (exception to this rule: Never Been Kissed, starring my secret best friend, Drew Barrymore), but her writing's so sharp and just a little sarcastic that I bet she can pull it off.

Speaking of Never Been Kissed, here's another highschool movie that wormed its way back into my heart this week.



I think this movie is the reason I decided to become a successful career woman.

Saturday Night at the Movies.

Burrowing time is Caitlin time. I love nothing more than coming home after a long day, heating up a can of Chef Lonelyheart's soup (or maybe just some Habitant Split Pea) and taking full advantage of the library's DVD collection. Tonight it was The Apartment, starring my time travel secret husband (ie., I would really only want him in or around 1960), Jack Lemmon. Also featuring Shirley MacLaine in my second favourite role of her career (the first is, of course, Ouiser in Steel Magnolias). I love this movie. I hadn't seen it since I was a doe-eyed undergrad on summer vacation, meticulously watching my way through another library's video offerings, on a personal journey of filmic edification. I was really into Billy Wilder. (That was also the summer I developed a mild obsession with Jon Voigt as a sexy paraplegic in Coming Home, but that's a story for another day.) The Apartment has always stuck with me, for a few reasons.

1. I love stories set in mid-century offices, all those people crammed in close, riding the elevators in shifts, sneaking out to the Automat over lunch, throwing crazy Christmas parties.



(Skip ahead to about 1:20.)

2. I love unrequited love that works out perfectly in the end. Coincidentally, this is the second movie I've watched this week where the lovers never even kiss, and yet it is so endearing and romantic and kind-hearted. Sincerity in the face of flaws and downfalls--that's what this world is missing these days.

3. I love that the apartment is a character in the story, because I always feel like my homes are major players in my life too.

4. Jack Lemmon's character is sort of the 1950s Seth Cohen. Not a day goes by when I don't miss The OC with all my heart.

5. Ray Walston, who later went on to play the judge on Picket Fences, has a minor role. Remember Picket Fences? CLASSIC!

6. I love the closing shot of Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine playing cards. It just makes me feel all cozy inside.

7. Billy Wilder was a man ahead of his time.



Then, to undo any quasi-intellectualizing I might have gotten myself into, I watched 2 hours of old episodes of Friends on the internet. I think I'm a Monica.

how to fight loneliness

I watched Grey Gardens on Friday night. It was maybe not the best movie for a gal trying to prove to herself that she is completely comfortable with holing herself up in her apartment for days on end. Anyone who has seen the movie knows what I'm talking about, but here is a particularly amazing clip of Little Edie to force the rest of you to watch it ASAP:



I was really moved by the whole big show. I'd recently read a review that called it a terrifying portrait of codependence, but I don't know, maybe I'm as crazy as the Beales, but I didn't see that. I saw the sad aftermath of privileged lives, and the difficulty of growing up beautiful and full of promise only to completely shit the bed on all expectations, and the most fantastic costumes this side of a Wes Anderson movie. Seriously. Except that they aren't even costumes. You almost forget that these women are just LIVING THEIR LIVES and that these amazing props and outfits are just the old things they drag out and put on for the film crew. Okay, fine, so they're putting on a little show, that's for sure. Little Edie especially is obviously into being filmed. But it's not like they left the house to buy any of those things--they're the artifacts of this practically unbelievable life.

...if anyone needs me I'll be letting a raccoon eat the drywall in my place in the Hamptons and listening to old records. And wearing a floppy hat.

I also watched Steel Magnolias, and took a lot of incoherent notes about how play-like and deep it was, and then I dissolved into a teary mess when Julia Roberts died, and then I ruminated on how maybe it was the high point in all the lead actresses' careers, and then I decided I'd spent too much time thinking about Steel Magnolias for one lifetime. But I will say this--for a truly horrendous example of how Wikipedia is destroying research prose, read this article.

Particularly illuminating is the Title Significance section. Also, the TOTALLY EXCITING NEWS that Mayim Bialik, aka television's beloved Blossom, will be starring in the off-Broadway revival.

You can thank me for all that later.