Siddity in the City

K’s post today about blogging fatigue hit home for me. While she’s decided it isn’t what she has, I’m realizing-again-that I definitely do have a case of the blog-wearies.

As I typed up my comment on her blog, I realized that a lot has changed in the last four years. My overall satisfaction has in some ways gone up, while my income and free computer time has gone down. I no longer cruise gourmet shops and bargain basements for discounted fashion goodies. Chicago is in some ways far too spread out for that to be anything but a full-weekend project, and I don’t have the spare cash, anyway. What little traveling I do is limited to trips back east to see family and friends. The only real suitor I’ve encountered in the last six months has been entirely unsuitable (a decade older, lives in my building in a much less appealing apartment, already has kids, and generally was just not my type), and I am in No. Mood. For intertubes dating sites. I haven’t been to the movies since…June? July? And I could give two damns less what teh celebutards are about lately.

In short, I’m just not feeling that life is all that exciting right now, and I feel no need to force it. My cat gets the benefit of my witticisms these days, and believe me, that’s probably for the best. Odds are that in the coming months, I’ll be posting here even less frequently than I do right now. I’ve got a few other projects in the works. Eventually I’ll cross post, but for now, they’re works-in-progress and not fit for general consumption.

On an unrelated note: The shittacular remake-to-be that is the American stab at Oldboy is now rumored to have Stephen Spielberg at the helm and feature Will Smith in the lead.

WHAT THE FUCK MY HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE? I’ve had a problem with the remaking of this film since I first caught wind of it a few years ago. Hollywood likes easy money. That means T&A, blood, gore, explosions, and explosions in T&A ending with more blood and gore. Oldboy is a revenge drama that veers from visceral brutality to psychological suspense to incest and back. You expect me to believe that Spielberg could pull this off without twisting the plot all to hell to make it more palatable for a US audience? That America’s freaking sweetheart Will Smith would risk his magic-negritude to do a film with *gaaaaasp* incest? I mean, it’s nice that they’re considering a minority lead for this, really, since it was ripped from Korean cinema and all, but who thought Will Smith was a good idea? What? Was Don Cheadle busy? I can’t see Will pulling this one off. Maybe he’s trying for a Denzel-esque second act, in which he gets to play the morally ambiguous parts as he transitions from leading man-age to middle age, but I’m pretty sure we’re just going to start handing him the innocuous Morgan Freeman roles, instead.

Related to the unrelated note: as I was seething over this blasphemy quietly at my desk today, it occurred to me that I do in fact need a boyfriend, or at least a boy friend, or hell, anyone geeky enough to accompany me to subtitled indie-flickery and then FEEL my PAIN when some smack like this remake goes down.

Sighs. Great big, bosom-heaving sighs. Yes I did it alone in NYC, and I can do it alone here, too, but it would be nice. All I’m saying.