Iron Man however- he is so smart,  clever, and cocksure....he is seriously in the running.  Yes, he has issues, and I think he might have trouble staying out of his head, but he came up with that whole suit himself, under duress!  And his place in Malibu is magnifique!

Double dating is also a possibility. Iron Man and the Incredibile Hulk's nemesis just met in an LA bar (looked like the new London Hotel).  If you saw IH you know what I mean.  It sounds like those two will be going at it soon in the City of Angels.   And, Hancock lives in LA too, a perfect trifecta.

No real girl threats either, really.  I mean Liv Tyler's fake resume as a cellular bioligist will surely be found out soon so I'm not counting on her and the Hulk staying together.  Hancock's girl can't even get close to him or they both become mortal, and Iron Man's Pepper Potts a.ka. Gwyneth Paltrow is likely a wet noodle in bed, I just have a feeling.

So, that leaves three potential superhero boyfriends, living in LA.  Where would one hang out?

So in an effort to feel marginally productive before I call it a day at 2 a.m., I'm leaving you a Brain Enema. I'm hoping the dump will purge me of some of the thoughts that seem to keep me awake at night.

The most important issue right now is this:

My friend Piera wrote an email that announced The Decline of My Girlfriend Gwyneth, hailing that her style icon fashion sense was that of yesteryear and subsequent downfall could be attributed to the uncool husband and odd choices in babynaming. A fierce debate ensued, hurling e-insults throughout the fiber-optic void, resulting in the following epiphanies and observations:
1. Gwyneth might have stolen this look from Our Britney
2. There are several layers involved when it comes to looking like a whore, this outfit only contains a Mild Dash of Whore.
3. Emeline's D2M (Dead to Me) List has a new member on it... and it isn't Gwyneth.
4. My current hairdo likens me to some sad aging Ramones fan gone overboard in the hairbrushing department. MY HAIR NEEDS TO BE SEDATED.
5. Nicole Kidman is AMAZING, much better than Gwyneth. (You have to read the article in this month's Vogue.) (I can not wait to see Baz's Australia.)
6. Piera might have been right afterall.

Moving upward and onward:

• Emeline, here's the proof that Sharon Stone is "batshit crazy"
• Photobombing is going to be a new hobby of mine (thanks Mighty Girl)
• I just bought a new house, but it doesn't mean I can't stop looking, right?

Lastly, do any of you insomniacs have advice for me? This needs to end.

COLONICS: HIGH COLONICS | HOME COLONICS | WEIGHT COLONICS

New York (ANI):

As more celebrities jump on the detox bandwagon, it's also catching on with the general public. But some medical experts say these body-cleansing diets are not only unnecessary, they can also be dangerous. Dr. David Robbins, at Beth Israel Medical Center, said that detox diets do not work, in fact they can cause more harm than good.

"The concept that you need to detox your body like you would take your car for an oil change is entirely off base," The New York Daily New quoted him, as saying. Here's how some celeb-tested cleanses measure up.

1. Kathy Frenton's 21-Day Colon Cleanse Celebrity: Oprah Winfrey

The spiritual plan preaches 'conscious eating' by cutting all animal products, gluten, caffeine, sugar and alcohol for up to 21 days. "Dietary excess and gluttony is not good for you, sure, but to start excluding major food groups is foolish," Robbins said.

2. Dr. Joshi's holistic detox Celebrity: Gwyneth Paltrow

This plan promises transformation in 21 days by avoiding acidic, toxic and refined foods so the body's pH balance becomes alkaline. "It's all fantasy at best and dangerous at its worst," Robbins said.

3. Martha's Vineyard Detox Diet Celebrity: Robin Quivers

The radio co-host followed Roni DeLuz's '21 Pounds in 21 Days.' The fast sheds a pound a day by subsisting on live juices, enzymes - and regular colonics. Robbins said that the body is expert at colonic cleansing itself. "We know from thousands of colonoscopies, in which we peer into the lining of the colon, that there's no toxic residue," he said.

4. Master Colon Cleanser Celebrity: Beyonce Knowles

The pop star slimmed down drastically to play skinny 'Dreamgirls' singer Deena Jones by living on water mixed with lemon, maple syrup and cayenne pepper. "You don't have to starve yourself," Robbins said. He sees liquid-diet patients come in with electrolyte imbalances 'and profound diarrhea and nausea.'

SOURCE:

http://entertainment.oneindia.in/hollywood/top-stories/scoop/2008/celebrity-detox-habits-160608.html

Click for bigger.

Why does my Photoshop neglect the font "Bodoni", which I am 90% certain is the original font? I couldn't quite match it. Meh.

Bruce Willis - rowdy blues guy

Ole B Willy sure can rock a phat jam!! He's got the gravel, the yelling, and the old guy angst down pat. Sure, he might occasionally resort to 'spoken delivery' (like these guys), drop out of tune just slightly at the end of the odd line, and look kinda awkward when he has to stand there with nothing to do but I'd argue that B Willikers just might have an old-blues-guy gene or two in his make-up...

Hayden Panettiere - Hendrix cover girl

If you were an avid Disney channel watcher you mighta been one of those who raised an eyebrow when you saw Claire Bear on Heroes, and said: "hey... there's that chick who sings on that Disney movie" but for most of us, she was an actress first (or rather, a self-mutilating cheerleader) and her singing talents were unknown (not to mention her voice acting talents as Dot in A Bug's Life and Kairi in Kingdom Hearts 2!).

Gwyneth Paltrow - smooth cruising gal

Gwynnie is married to a muso but even before she met Chris the cold playa she'd tried her (vocal) hand at a tune or two. In this, her first 'outing', she sings a Smokey Robinson number to her onscreen dad whilst being directed by her offscreen dad.

Christian Bale - english warbling chappie

...and he can dance too (is that what he's doing in the scene below, at 2:16? xD); obviously he was training for the intense action sequences in Batman Begins. I wonder if there's going to be a musical number in The Dark Knight? I can totally see Batman breaking into "Bad" during a tense show-down with the Joker...

"...the word is out / you're doing wrong / gonna lock you up / before too long... Who's Bad?"

*shudder*... bad memories of Prince's Batdance video... >_<

Kiera Knightley - sultry songstress

She can sing! And not too badly at all, either. She injects just the right amount of fragile emotion into this performance to come across like a natural.

Honourable Mention

It may fall into the "spoken word" category but I'll bet you never knew McCain could bust a funky jam too, eh?

Eu não sou crítico de música. Não tenho base teórica, nunca escrevi sobre isso, mas tem gente que é mais doido que eu e gosta de saber minha opinião quanto a uma determinada banda/artista. Se você não é uma dessas pessoas, está dispensado para ir ler outra  coisa. Caso queira saber, vamos por ordem alfabética:

Flavors of Entanglement
Alanis Morissette

Parece que a Alanis entrou agora no ano 2000. Lembra quando em 1999 – 2000 alguns artistas começaram a ficar mais, digamos, eletrônicos? Pois é. É o que a Alanis está fazendo. Na metade de 2008. Ou seja, a 1 ano e meio de 2010! Pense numa Madonna mais pop rock, mantendo as batidinhas eletrônicas e sendo menos Madonna. Pois é. A Alanis demorou quase uma década para ter sua fase 'adolescente' do eletrônico e sampler. E quando teve, desandou o caldo. Um CD totalmente dispensável no meu iPod. Acho que vou deixar a título de curiosidade. Tenho medo do que virá depois desse. [Quando alguém lança um CD e depois de ouvi-lo uma vez pensa: "Quando sai o próximo?" é porque a coisa não vai bem mesmo].

Preciso registrar que sempre gostei muito de Alanis, acho que ela faz boa música, um rock agradável e, por vezes, coisas diferentes. Nos CDs anteriores, as mais calminhas eram as renegadas, embora boas. Nesse a mais calminha, Madness, é a única que se salva. E olhe lá.

Conclusão: volta Alanis!

Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends
Coldplay

Pois é... eu ouvi esse CD. Sabe quando você vê a Thati do Big Brother comemorando festa de aniversário no buffet infantil da Andrea Sorvertão e se sente mal pela pessoa? [Pelas duas, nesse caso?]. Então é um pouco pior. É como quando você descobre que a Sorvetão está casada com o Conrado e vê fotos dos dois juntos, abraçados à Thati. Nem uma barra de Hershey’s Cookie n’ Cream resolve essa vergonha alheia.

O CD do Coldplay chega perto disso. Odeio resenhas muito grandes, por isso vou tentar ser breve no que puder, ao analisar faixa a faixa:

1 – Life In Technicolor
Música de abertura, literalmente. Não é só a primeira, mas serve como um "Respeitável público". Inteira instrumental. Quando você acha que vai ficar boa, acaba.

2 – Cemeteries of London
Logo de cara, não dá pra entender muito bem a batida [de leve] que rola ao fundo da voz de Chris Martin. De repente entra a bateria, baixo e violão. Aí você pensa "Conheço essa levada de algum lugar... tão anos 90". E um pop-up do Pato Banton cantando "Go Pato" aparece na sua mente, enquanto rola a música. A partir daí, fica impossível não dar risada toda vez que voltar a ouvir essa faixa.

3 – Lost
No primeiro segundo de música você pensa "O cara está mesmo se perdendo", sem nem ter visto o título da faixa. Isso porque ele faz um 'tum-tum-tá', bem We Will Rock You, do Queen. Eu até fiz junto para ver se sincronizava e nem preciso dizer o resultado, não? Aí ele canta: "Just because I'm losing / Doesn't mean I'm lost / Doesn't mean I'll stop". Decepciona saber que isso continuará até o final do CD e você pensa "Quando é que sai mesmo o próximo CD deles?".

4 – 42
Começa bem Coldplay-jeito-de-ser. E quando você se vê agradecendo por isso, fica preocupado. "Não era um CD em que iriam inovar? Ah é, eles inovaram. Fizeram referências ao Pato Banton e a We Will Rock You do Queen e no meio disso tudo, estava o Conrado, a Andrea Sorvetão e a Thati". De repente a música muda completamente e você fica triste porque se lembra de Amsterdam, música do álbum A Rush of Blood to the Head [último álbum bom, que é possível ouvir mais de 5 faixas] e percebe que ela tem a mesma 'temática', só que pior.

Ainda está aí?

5 – Lovers in Japan / Reign of Love
São duas músicas. A primeira rola no mesmo clima de "Vai demorar muito pra acabar?". Começa a segunda e depois do que aconteceu na primeira, até Pato Banton seria bem vindo. O Coldplay faz um pouco melhor e nos dá esperança em continuar ouvindo o CD. Mas você se sente enganado. Teve que ouvir a primeira para chegar nessa parte. Se você tiver um editor de MP3, vale a pena cortar a Lovers in Japan e ficar apenas com Reign of Love.

6 – Viva la Vida
Hein? Não era Chris Martin? Em que momento entrou o Ricky no CD, que ninguém me avisou?

Nessa faixa parece que o Coldplay trocou uma idéia com a Alanis e perguntou "E aí, como vai ser seu novo CD? Anos 2000? Boa!". Nem perguntaram se já não tinham perdido o timing, mas quem precisa disso, né? Só colocar uma orquestra e uma batidinha clássica e fica tudo certo...

7 – Violet Hill
Bom, pelo menos tem nome de música do Coldplay. A levada ainda é do Pato Banton [Go Pato], mas em um ritmo mais devagar, com mais guitarras e no finalzinho, um momento Coldplay-de-ser, que você chega a cruzar os dedos e promete nunca mais falar mal da Gwyneth Paltrow se a música terminar depois disso.

8 – Strawberry Sing
Passa desapercebida. E isso é um mérito em um CD como esse. Chego a arriscar que pode ser um dos singles do álbum, já que da metade pra frente tem um violãozinho bem Coldplay, o que é uma coisa boa em um CD como esse [Acho que já falei isso, né?].

9 – Death and All His Friends
Início com pianinho Coldplay, Ricky Martin, quer dizer, Chris Martin sussurrando e riffs de guitarra característicos da banda. Mas o sussurro avisa: "(…) just be patient, and don't worry", pois o crescente virá e a música se transformará. Mais uma vez. Será que ele não tem pena da gente não? A resposta é: não. E uma happy music entra em cena. Com marcação marcante [foi proposital] do baixo e da bateria, à la Pet Shop Boys, mas numa versão piorada, lógico.

10 [finalmente] – The Escapist
O clima Pet Shop Boys continua. A essa altura, você só torce para que o Martin, seja ele qual for, nunca tenha ouvido RPM para não tentar nada progressivo, enquanto ele sussurra uma meia dúzia de palavras e um sampler de teclado, ou seja lá o que isso for, encerra o álbum.

Conclusão 1: ao final dessa análise uma coisa para mim ficou clara: o Coldplay é melhor fazendo clichês e sempre a mesma coisa.
Conclusão 2: não perca seu tempo ouvindo esse CD.

The Red Album
Weezer

Eu quase estava desistindo de ouvir novos CDs, me fechar no iPod com os anos 90 em Nirvana, Pearl Jam e Red Hot Chili Peppers, quando ouço o novo do Weezer. Só pelo fato dos caras não ficarem se preocupando com um nome pro álbum, simplesmente pintarem de uma cor primária e deixarem ser chamado do nome que for, já é grande coisa. O primeiro deles era um fundo azul, eles posando em fila pra câmera e o nome "Weezer". Começaram até vir o 3º, o CD ainda era conhecida como "Weezer", banda e disco. Mas no 3º, fizeram a mesma coisa, mas trocaram o fundo, que passou a ser verde. Ou seja: o primeiro tornou-se o Blue Album, o terceiro ficou Green Album. No quinto, e mais recente, o fundo é vermelho. Não precisa conhecer a escala RGB para adivinhar o nome dele.

Aqui vou me dar a liberdade de falar só das faixas que mais gostei. No entanto, diferentemente dos outros CDs, vale a pena ouvir todas as faixas, mesmo que aqui não mencionadas.

1 – Troublemaker
A banda é da Califórnia. Por que digo isso? Simplesmente porque a música que abre o álbum pode parecer alguma coisa que você já ouviu por aí, principalmente em bandas da Costa Oeste dos EUA. "Acho que já ouvi isso no O.C." é algo bem válido. No entanto, estamos falando de Weezer, uma banda 'velha'. Você ouve mais um pouco e pensa "Hum, aqui tem um algo mais do que as outras bandas californianas".

3 – Pork and Beans
Muito se falou já desse primeiro single, simplesmente pela idéia genial do clipe em juntar os The Hypests Hypes [já falei que gosto de neologismos?] da internet dos últimos anos em um vídeo só. Ou seja: os maiores hits do Youtube são parte de seu clipe. Quem não vai querer ver tudo isso junto, num vídeo só?!

Mas e a música? Só pelo clipe, poderia ser o Chris Martin cantando seu último álbum [OK, exagerei], mas ela se garante. Se você tiver a possibilidade apenas de ouvi-la, isso já é algo válido. Uma levada tranqüila para os padrões-Weezer-de-ser. Até quando entram as guitarras, baixos e batera com o chimbal totalmente aberto, ela vai agradar até os ouvidos mais delicados, justamente por montar uma melodia que se torna agradável nas estrofes iniciais.

4 – Heartsongs
Só na 3ª vez fui perceber a batida do coração no início da música. Enfim, me lembrou muito Pinback, o que, para mim, é uma boa referência. Tive a sorte de comprar meu primeiro iPod de um amigo, ou seja, com 3 mil músicas recheando-o. Mesmo tendo apagado algo entre mil e 1.500 músicas, muita coisa que ouço hoje em dia descobri nessa época. A coincidência: esse amigo é da Califórnia. Tem uma hora que essa música chega a lembrar o Linkin Park, que eu simplesmente abomino, mas não chega a ser pé no saco e cansativo como a banda do cara que parece aquele de CSI. Quando você começa a pensar "Pior que o som está parecendo mesmo", a música termina e fica tudo bem. =)

6 – Dreamin'
Música sem violãozinho ou percussão. Mas uma música 'feliz'. Acho que o que resume bem o Weezer é isso. Eles fazem um Nerd Punk Rock pra se curtir, sabe? Aquilo do 'De amargo já chega a vida', então o que rola são coisas felizes.

7 – Thought I Knew
A música começa e acho que mais uma banda sucumbiu ao revival do ano 2000 ou só percebeu que entrou nessa década quase uma década depois, mas dou o benefício da dúvida ao Weezer, já que as 4 músicas acima por si já valem mais do que o CD inteiro da Alanis + o álbum inteiro do Richris Martin. Enquanto estou escrevendo, vou ouvindo as músicas... tempo real. Para o texto sair exatamente no clima dela. Acontece que na metade dela, já esqueci das paradinhas eletrônicas do começo e estou feliz pelo Weezer ter feito esse CD.

10 – The Angel and the One
A música tem um 'quê' de Death Cab for Cutie e o vocal de vez em quando lembra o Dashboard Confessional, que não é da Califórnia, mas é da Costa Leste, Boca Raton – Flórida.

11 – Miss Sweeney
Uma baladinha bem feita, com pausas em lugares previstos, mas bem feitos. Letra em forma de historinha, o que é agradável. Melodia bem agradável também. Superior às outras que não foram citadas

14 – King
Algo meio folk, meio rock, meio Weezer, bem agradável também. Música que você ouve no dia-a-dia e agrada. O vocal e a levada lembram um pouco Everlast, mas em um sentido bom da coisa.

Conclusão: o Weezer tem um som que você poderia pensar ser alguma outra banda. Não é nada que chegue a "Nossa, só podia ser mesmo o Weezer pra fazer um negócio assim", como é o caso do John Frusciante, por exemplo, guitarrista do Red Hot Chili Peppers. Mas é algo ‘comum’ bem produzido, bem dirigido, enfim, bem feito.

Mais um ponto para o Weezer: eles fizeram uma música colaborativa. Rivers Cuomo, vocalista e *líder da banda, colocou em seu canal do Youtube uma série de vídeos de como se escrever uma canção. Pediu sugestão de letra, acordes e título. Ele mesmo compôs e colocou o resultado no mesmo canal. [Detalhe para os gols de Sócrates e Carlos Alberto, clássicos].

* Acho essa questão de 'líder' da banda muito discutível. Se você já tocou em alguma sabe que a pessoa que está no microfone nem sempre a lidera. Muitas vezes, quem dá a dinâmica da banda, na hora em que se está tocando, pode ser qualquer um. Alguém que conduza a banda a fazer algo que fique sincronizado, que soe bem. Por isso evito, hoje em dia, falar em "líder da banda". Utilizei muito esse termo quando trabalhei na rádio Brasil 2000 e precisava escrever as notas do dia inteiro. Hoje em dia, não curto mais, porém, as pessoas entendem dessa forma e é necessário fazer a informação chegar ao interlocutor, não importa como, diriam alguns professores. Segundo eles, si aLgUen ixkrevi axim, e a outra pessoa entende, tá valendo.

The credits were still rolling, the lights came up, and the brewing desire to release the pressure valve fell on everyone's lips as opinions increasingly became secret confessions of an anxious reader to an absent author.  The film in question is James Gray's Two Lovers, best described by Andrew O'Hehir as "a romantic drama about Leonard (Gray regular Joaquin Phoenix), a damaged 30ish Brooklynite living with his parents, who must choose between a nurturing, socially appropriate girlfriend (Vinessa Shaw) and a drugged-out, unavailable shiksa goddess (Gwyneth Paltrow)."   The ensuing discussion skipped the usual interpretative dance of grasping connections to the human condition, or what's left of it.  Instead, superficial assessments were the preferred format of the day, ranging from Gwyneth's miscasting to "ugly" Manhattan lawyer types to hatred of the Jewish father.  Even worse, "authentic" portrayal of NY life and "believability" of the characters' psychologies and emotions were buzzing in the air as indicators of artistic honesty.  Then again, if we take the director's word for his work (neither a good nor bad idea), we would be stuck with Gray's meditative study of love as a solipsistic projection, in which the dictum "save one person, save the world" isn't that far from the religious upbringing of the main character and his impulse to save the messed-up girl, and his fiancee's impulse to save him.  Would that be the measure of success, when a filmmaker fully translates every feeling and meaning to his audience?  Gray admits to be reading Jacques Lacan and Louis Aragon during the film production, but how are we supposed to notice his subliminal projections in the final product?

These points are not moot in any shape or form, they reveal surely the film's immense ability to elicit a spectrum of responses beyond the original intent of the filmmaker in demanding a serious consideration of his work as some lasting examination of modern relationships and their discontents.  There will always be a gap between intention and reception, encoding and decoding, and generations of old and young.

Interview with James Gray courtesy of Salon.com

[audio http://media.salon.com/mp3s/2008/may/conversations_gray.mp3]

Perhaps, Paltrow's "miscasting" was not an error in judgement but an indication of an actress's failure to escape her extradiegetic persona, in which she constantly inhabits her offscreen self or play variations on an established theme whether she wanted to or not.  However, this doesn't mean she fails within the level of the film itself, rather the aura of Gwyneth forever haunts and complements the blonde bimbo shell that is Michelle.  In short, Gwyneth plays Gwyneth really well, and O'Hehir is acute in pointing out that she is the quintessential femme fatale, desirable but never tangible, her first appearance in the film marks the arrival of fantasy rather than flesh, the ghost of her former role transported to a different film.  As much as I despise the God-given wisdom of the auteur, his final say as our final say, the "oh jeez, we got it now, thanks mister," I have to credit Gray for being his own best analyst in regards to the doomed lovers' last encounter.  He mentioned that he wanted Gwyneth (ooops, i mean Michelle) to appear as if she's floating in the dark alleyway before she emerges in front of Leonard.  An inevitable farewell to an ideal woman, a Hollywood construction more real than real.  And a side rebuttal to one vocal commentator:  Vanessa Redgrave in a Joe Wright's film is not the same as Gwyneth Paltrow in a James Gray's movie.  It's like saying Judi Dench's cameo in Pride and Prejudice was also his desperate ploy for funding.  Get it straight.

Moreover, the overrated focus on a film's capacity to mimic reality, to capture an imprint of life, as if it could've existed, eventually leads us to a dead end in the art of film criticism since it means fantasy narratives are playing another deck of cards to make us believe otherwise.   In the case of Two Lovers, destiny is laid out like a minefield, there will be causalities, there will be survivors, a  safe pathway is painfully visible.  Keeping in mind that there are two separate occasions where Michelle and Leonard  stare straight into the camera, knowing all too well that their intimate embrace is one stemming from vulnerability rather than potentiality.  Only Vinessa Shaw's character is out of this loop.  What we have forgotten when it comes to cinema is neither illusion or realism, but the creation of microcosms, of fictions passing off as realities (rather than REALITY), distinct in their individuality, but always in dialogue with each other, eventually cementing into transparent codes and conventions we take for granted.  It's appropriate that critics have labeled Gray as an old-fashioned craftsman, producing films they used to make in the old days, because in the very tone of that nostalgic sentiment lies the truth of their words---he's doing something that WAS done before, just reassembled into new permutations.  That familiarity tells us more about how we as moviegoers have deeply ingrained cultural memory into our consciousness of history and our perception of everyday reality.

In laying out the above expositions on the multi-faceted experience of watching Two Lovers, I want to probe into the wider phenomenon of film reception, which encompasses more than just watching, but all the tactile senses and more.  I admit that I was giggling at particular moments in the film because those were the scenes that retreated from the overall cumbersome trajectory, moments where the characters would exhibit ludicrous behaviors such as demanding an inscription on your arm as a lullaby, displaying your naked breast to a pathetic man across the hall, or asking your son if he needs help using Expedia.  At other times, I'm simply amused by the physical pleasure of seeing Joaquin doing breakdancing or Gwyneth with smeared mascara.  Spoutblog writer, Karina Longworth even cites that she was asleep for the first half of the film until that nightclub scene captivated her to the end. Her review fluctuates between adoration and ambivalence; she clearly enjoyed the film, but was uncertain on how to judge it as a critic. Does it always have to funnel down towards a recommendation for yourself, or for others?   Film historian and cinephile, David Bordwell, performs an admirable job categorizing the nature of reception into these two components that make for competing rivals and strange bedfellows:

I can like films I don’t think are particularly good. I enjoy mid-level Hong Kong movies because I can see their ties to local history and film history, because I take delight in certain actors, because I try to spot familiar locations. But I wouldn’t argue that because I like them, they’re good. We all have guilty pleasures—a label that was coined exactly to designate films which give us enjoyment, even if by any wide criteria they aren’t especially good.

The difference between taste and judgment emerges in this way: You can recognize that some films are good even if you don’t like them. You can declare Birth of a Nation or Citizen Kane or Persona an excellent film without finding it to your liking...There aren't any fully “objective” standards, but they are intersubjective—lots of people with widely varying tastes accept them.

What Bordwell is hinting at, though he never mentions explicitly, is the ongoing transformation of taste into judgement, of elitist proclivities becoming the gold standard.  Taste is always shifting from one person to another, but judgement is harder to change, it requires an informal consensus with time as an overseer.  In my agreement with O'Hehir, Two Lovers continue to diverge reactions because it's a successful failed experiment, fascinating, frustrating, and inherently fictitious to its bittersweet finale.  Everyone left the room with something to say instead of a forgettable nod of acceptance. Tolerance would've been boring!

I will not conclude with a report on film appreciation, for a simple call to arms is much more bearable and easier to administer in the realm of critical reception and pleasurable enjoyment.  Broadening of one's taste (the inclusivity principle) and a cautious judgment of judgment will keep any filmgoer from being too satisfied and too picky with his meal.  Without reverting to archaic rules of appropriateness, when to laugh, when to cry, when to tremble in suspense, it would be better to refer to these selected musings of Susan Sontag in her seminal essay Notes on Camp rather than just grouping everything under that misused umbrella term, camp.  It shouldn't be a label, but a contentious neologism to be argued for and against.

18. One must distinguish between naïve and deliberate Camp. Pure Camp is always naïve. Camp which knows itself to be Camp ("camping") is usually less satisfying.

41. The whole point of Camp is to dethrone the serious. Camp is playful, anti-serious. More precisely, Camp involves a new, more complex relation to "the serious." One can be serious about the frivolous, frivolous about the serious.

Just one minor exception to social propriety:  Don't ever holler at the screen unless you're at a sing-a-long.

I've decided to share some of the thoughts I have about this little known band from the U.K. with really tranny emo music that I happen to lurv. You probably haven’t heard of them. I am SUPER elitist, and music falls into that category, so I'm actually convinced you lowlifes will have no idea what I'm talking about.

Anyhow, the band is named Coldplay. (Ha! Tricked you, didn’t I?) And yes, I do know that there’s been a lot of press about good ‘ol Cplay as of late. Believe me, my intention is not to beat a dead horse with this post or anything. Ah hell naw. You see, my take on the topic will be fresh and exciting….

Hmmm.

           Come to think of it, pretty much all I do on this blog is beat dead horses…(Growing up is hard! Men and women don’t understand each other! Kevin Garnett is God!)

Oh, well.

I'm definitely (defiantly?) a dead horse beater, and considering that I actually have a day job right now, and dread staring at the computer all night again when I get home, I think that’s okay for the time being. One can't blog all day! (Also, in my defense, I'm in a better situation than my friend Katie, whose current job title happens to be " the creepy fortune teller gyspy performer at your local neighboorhoods’ under-ten set birthday parties." Then there's the aforementioned college roommate Lauren, currently a "professional bike rider and tofu burrito consumer.” Laur is working at an organic food store in Montauk these days (hell yeah, liberal arts degrees!) which has made her sort of odd; she now peppers her conversation with phrases like "and then I was cutting two slices of Ezekiel bread" or "just eat the fucking muesli cookie already." So tranny.)

Anyhoo…Coldplay.

They have a new album coming out. They have an iTunes commercial. THEY OWN THE WORLD.

              Well, I happen to freaking love that new song "Viva la vida," (especially when the 2^nd verse kicks in-"it was the wicked and wiiiild wind." Slay me.) Shockingly, a lot of other people are liking the song too.

              But of course, there are people out there who despise the band. Chuck Klosterman, the author of the he-laar-ious book Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs is one of them. (Dude haaaaates on the Chris Martin in that book.) Years ago, he had this to say: "Coldplay is absolutely the shittiest fucking band I've ever heard in my entire fucking life… … [their] songs deliver an amorphous, irrefutable interpretation of how being in love is supposed to feel, and people find themselves wanted that feeling for real….…"

So true CK. So true. I mean, when I hear Chris warble out, "honey you are the sea upon which I float" as I’m painting my nails and flipping through my mother’s J. Jill catalog…well, all I can say is, put a fork in me, I'm done!

The things is, I like to think I'm sort of a snob in a lot of ways. (What do you mean, this McDonald’s burger isn’t from a cow that died a peaceful death in a field in Oregon while listening to Mozart and having its udders massaged? WHATDOYOUMEAN!!!) But apparently, if you're a snob, you MUST HATE COLDPLAY.

The creator of stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, Christian Lander (otherwise known as the bloggy blog God of the world), wrote about this topic recently for my fav super elitist rag Vanity Fair. The entire thing is a must read (click here) but just check out this excerpt:

"Due to its big, sweeping sound, Coldplay's music is perfect for montages about relationships in television and film. Because of this, many white people have listened to a Coldplay song on their iPod while looking out the window of an airplane or car, imagining that they are acting out a scene from a movie about their life. It is their secret shame and it is strongly recommended that you never bring it up with them. Instead you should direct the conversation to white hero Gwyneth Paltrow and her choice of baby names. This is guaranteed to put a white person in a good mood."

Once again, Lander is so on the money that it’s creepy-his entire blog sums up my life to the point where I don’t even feel like it's worth it for me to live anymore-and after reading his take on fans of the band, I ran through a little check-list of what did or did not apply to me. Let's see…

Did I listen to "Clocks" on the plane ride home from being abroad in college, while tearing up and picturing all the cities I'd been too and all the amaaaazing food I’d eaten and all the amaaaaazing experiences I'd had? Um, check. (“Look After You” by The Fray also works well for montages.)

Did I listen to "The Scientist" about 68 times a day when I was going through a break-up with my high school boyfriend? Yes, please!

Do I occasionally dream about being Apples and Moses's nanny and braiding Gywnnie's hair before she goes to the gym with Madge as my boy Chris strums a little acoustic version of "Fix You" for me in their boho tranny rich kitchen in London?  Duh, who doesn't?

 It's a larger debate, I suppose, but I do wonder why everyone always gets so f-in worked up about things in pop culture and entertainment that seem to connect with so many people like Coldplay does. What is everyone so afraid of? And no, I don't mean “popular” things like Hayden Panettiere and Ashlee Simpson and The Hills. I mean the stuff (actors, bands, books) that become legit phenomenons due to the fact that they are so beloved by so many-aka a wide swath of this country/world. Ya know, like:….that movie about that ship that sinks…Sex and the City… Sexy Back….Dorie from Nemo...Julia Roberts….yes, U2….Judd Apatow movies….okay, well, I know there are far more-and better-examples (feel free to share your thoughts please), but my point is, everyone (or a lot of people) like this shit for an f-in reason! My boy Ludarcis may call it word of mouf, I like to call it the real deal. I mean, if Coldplay was a band like Train, or a band like 3 Doors Down or whatever, then, um, they'd be those bands and not fucking Coldplay. Same with George Clooney. If he was just another hot actor, he’d be Josh Duhmal. But he ain’t. He’s George Fucking Clooney. So everyone needs to pipe down and stop trying so hard.

Thus I will continue to fold my laundry while watching a creepy anti-Bush video someone made on Youtube to “Viva La Vida” and fantasizing about breaking Chuck K in and making him love me.

Enjoy.

I awoke this morning with a stabbing pain between my breasts. The underwire had pierced through.  Another good soldier sacrificed in support of Denise and Debbie.  Yes, I sleep in my bra.  I have to.  Denise and Debbie require constant supervision and training.  They must never be neglected.  They're still as round and plump and upward reaching as they were when I was nineteen.

Denise and Debbie have been an integral part of my life since I was ten when they made their sudden and startling debut to my horror-- and my mother's. I literally went from flat to full-up-to-us in 24 hours.  Mother was furious.  Somehow, I had done this to myself, she muttered repeatedly and to any and everyone within earshot.

To punish me and to register her ever increasing disapproval, I never got a training bra.  She figured if she just ignored us, perhaps we'd just go away. That same year, on Easter Sunday, I fell off my cousin's bike and broke my leg.  I had been riding the bike without permission.  I ruined my orange Easter dress with the satin, royal blue bow.  Mother was furious about that, too.  To punish me, she left me at the hospital and never visited.  I was discharged after ten days.

My older sister took pity on me.  With the help of her friend, they managed to smuggle into the house a bra her mother gave to them to give to me.  It was beige, lace and it had underwire. After that, Denise and Debbie and I were on our own.  As I lie here in the dark admiring my lovely daughters, acknowledging the heroic sacrifice of this, now broken  pretty, pink bra, She came to me in a vision.

Her gaze was intense.  Strange. Dark. Penetrating. Her eyes, the color squall turns the Atlantic ocean, closely situated and framed between two thick layers of dense, coarse lashes like an artist's sable brush.

Her voice rich, like fluid mercury, seasoned to her advantage by too many years, too many cigarettes and too much gin.  She was all of 5 ft, petite and well proportioned with square hips and a plump, round butt.  She liked to wear tanks and tees and tailored shirts which cascaded upon Amy and Alma with artful precision, emphasizing their slight uplift and soft, rounded contours.  She didn't wear a bra because she had to.

I was surprised and happy to hear from her.  We hadn't seen each other in over a year.  When you're preoccupied with rearing a child, it's hard to manage friendships.  She was a wife and mother of two, This One and That One, then six and three, one of each sex.  Each possessed a precocious intellect and were  perfect little replicas of their co-dependant parents.

Woodman and She bore an uncanny resemblance.  Both had intense eyes, expansive eyebrows, classic foreheads and perfectly angled heads capped with thick manes of fast growing brown hair, only hers was dark with natural auburn highlights.  Their resemblance to each other was startling, and yet not in an altogether weird way. 

He was enormously talented.  Give that man a choice piece of wood and a table saw, and he could create pieces of beauty and utility.  He built their platform bed, and most of the furniture.  He built the kitchen cabinets and her nail salon and day spa that she owned and operated in their back yard.  He was constantly improving the house and the property.  He earned a living as a practioner of naturopathy.  

My son rang the door bell and she enthusiastically ushered us in.  Sometimes you can't go home again, though, you know?

The business was thriving.  She was taking classes to learn how to do voice-over work.  The house, though, was nearly empty except for the sofa.  The dining room furniture was vintage Pier One.  She'd taken to keeping her store and bank credit cards in a Ziploc bag in the freezer.  This One and That One, spoiled, gifted, and characteristically aloof were practicing their violins upstairs.  Together they made no other sound.

She wore a gray short sleeved tee shirt under a wrinkled, ecru colored, cotton midriff jacket with a wide, rounded lapel.  She kept up a losing struggle to pull it together across the bottom of her now enormous breasts.

"What have you done to yourself!"  I whispered, stunned, but trying not to show it.  They made her look so top heavy. They had almost completely changed her otherwise upright posture.  Her shoulders and back were curved, her flat stomach looked hollowed out to accommodate her protruding ribs. Any minute now I expected to see her snap in half at the waist.

They were a wedding gift from her new husband, a man she met six months ago at an AA meeting.  "He loves them," she said, sliding their wedding video into the VCR.  She was discovering in dribs and drabs the down side of living la vida Double D.

Walking on thin ice,
I'm paying the price
For throwing the dice in the air.
Why must we learn it the hard way
And play the game of life with your heart?

You can never sleep on your chest or for long on your back.  You are a slave to the bra.  When shopping for these, attention must be paid.  Attention must also be paid to shopping for clothes in general. Gone are the days you can buy a two-piece suit or a bikini bathing suit off the rack.  You have to hope the size five bottom and the size ten top are both available and you must make the switch before you get to the checkout counter.  You have to pay attention to how you move when you dance.  Running and jogging are out.

After you've spent all that extra time mixing and matching suit tops, you find you cannot button them.  Shirts must all be tailored.  Your breasts are heavy for your bra straps. You don't look quite right in a sports bra.  Daily, gravity is not your friend. 

They swell when you menstruate, the nipples are more sensitive.  You must always get completely dressed when going out in public.  Gone are the days you could just throw on a tee and jeans and be on your way.  On those rare occasions you do, it's only to go to the drive through.

Over time, your back will hurt, you shoulders will hurt, your neck will hurt,  your mobility will be reduced. You spend more time concealing your cleavage than revealing it.  There is not a lot of opportunity for that

either unless of course, you're Pamela Anderson.  Or a Jane Austin heroine.

I gave you my knife,
You gave me my life
Like a gush of wind in my hair.
Why do we forget what's been said
And play the game of life with our hearts?

"I know. You're right," she said with a sigh.

She had not anticipated how life, as she knew it, would change or  how it would affect all the things she'd previously been able to do and had taken for granted.  She wanted to have them removed.  She needed me to validate her decision.

"I'll even go with you, if you want," I said.  Turns out, while I publically praised and admired her physique, she secretly coveted mine.  People who have curly hair...

"But he likes them," she repeated quietly.

I may cry some day,
But the tears will dry whichever way.
And when our hearts return to ashes,
It'll be just a story,
It'll be just a story

She pulled the video from the VCR and slowly slid it back into its custom sleeve before putting it back in its place among the others on the IKEA bookcase.

We hugged.  We said good bye.  We left.  After that, I never saw nor heard from Her again.

"i knew a girl who tried to walk across the lake,
'course it was winter when all this was ice.
That's a hell of a thing to do, you know.
They say the lake is as big as the ocean.
I wonder if she knew about it?"

  Masterpiece: The Complete Jane Austen Collection

 Emma | 1996 |

Após o sucesso de filmes como "Johnny e June" (2005) e "Garota, Interrompida" (1999), o cineasta James Mangold aceitou dirigir o suspense "The Archive" ("O Arquivo", em tradução literal).

Ainda não há data prevista de lançamento do filme.

A história do longa será assinada por David Auburn. Ele é responsável pelo roteiro de filmes como "A Prova" (2005), com Anthony Hopkins e Gwyneth Paltrow, e "A Casa do Lago" (2006), com Sandra Bullock e Keanu Reeves.

image taken from wikipedia.

iron man - he makes robots scream SEX

i never really liked iron man, the cartoon show at least on tv. i am also not that huge nor dedicated a fan of the marvel universe. i only know spiderman and x-men... and that's pretty much about it. but i do like blockbusters and robots and swanky sexy techy stuff and so, i just had to catch this show. plus, robert downey jr. looks seriously sexed up in that show. there's something about his hell-could-screw-me-over charm and charisma that just pulls you in and swallows you whole.

did you know gwyneth paltrow was in it? i didn't. was quite stunned when i saw her but-

what can i say about iron man? that it feeds testosterone-charged boys with robots and action and firepower. from what i know, it does try to follow close to the iron man timeline, at least his beginnings. although i don't think the bit bout him being captured by terrorists and held ransom and stuff was actually from the actual graphic novel. but it was pretty clever know? to add in a smidgen of politics into a show that they knew would be watched by millions.

the best bits was probably when he was crafting and testing out the prototype soon (which would eventually be set aside and then be given to the friend, or something, and be called warhammer). his robot-aides were hilarious. dousing him in foam and coolant even when there wasn't any serious fire and he had to threaten them with being sent to the scrapyard if it did that again.

oh, his car was sex. damn it, if i ever had the money i'd get an audi. screw the bmw and the merc. the audi is the embodiment of class, elegance and p-o-w-e-r. also, another nugget of (perhaps, rather useless) information. the software that he used to create holographic prototypes (it's so damn cool la, you can just 'pick' up whatever you want or not and then 'toss' it into the dustbin as if it were in real life. I WANT!) does actually exist. or something similar and it's done by this company called oracle. one of the guys is working there now and just told me about this a couple of days back.

it's all action-packed. nothing intellectually provoking unless you consider the moral dilemma he's placed with - creating weapons which he thought would end war and provide a peaceful solution and then realizing that he got backstabbed and his company is in fact fueling the rise and rage of terrorism.

one thing definite, the boys loved it. there was even a cameo by tom morello (musicians will now want to find that scene where he appeared, even for a brief second). the soundtrack is pretty hard-hitting and heavy, pretty much reflects the robust energy that encapsulates the movie.

the girls would be drooling over mister robert downey jr. he's better off with pepper pots. she's hot. but yes, the lead actor has this captivating charm that totally befits tony starck as a real man. i'd catch it again, for him and for the gadgety appeal it has to my inner geek. though i wouldn't say that it had that much of a lasting impact.

hoped you guys stayed till after the credits. seems to me that they're gonna slowly roll into the civil war timeline (will read up on that soon). i've heard much complaints on how they totally got nick fury wrong - a bald black guy? uhm... we know civil war is an alternate universe but you guys didn't have to play ultimate punk right?

1. Jessica Simpson - A lot of people want to see Jessica in her platform high heels. No wonder, as she has very shapely legs. She may get attention for her bosom but her legs are damn sexy as well. She garnered the most interest on this blog than any other celebrity by a huge margin.

2. Lindsey Lohan - People are digging the girl in her leggings. Judging by the results of the first two, this blog is clearly read by a young crowd.

3. Anna Kournikova - Interesting. She has done nothing, yet people still want to check her out.

4. Gwyneth Paltrow - Gwyneth pretty much kicked off this blog. She was tooling around in her towering high heel platform shoes for the Ironman promotion. She was looking incredible.

5. Kate Beckinsale - People love these leggings. Kate and Lindsey in high heels and leggings proved to be very popular posts.

Surprises: I thought more people would dig Charlize. She proved not as popular as Marisa Miller, Victoria Beckham, Fergie, hell, even Heidi Montag.

Robert Downey Jr. (Good Night and Good Luck, Zodiac) plays Tony Stark, a selfish, high-profile businessman who runs Stark Industries, the world's leading producer of weaponry. He is on a trip to the Middle East, demonstrating his newest killing machine, a cluster missile called the Jericho. While riding in a military tank, Stark finds himself kidnapped and the rest of the soldiers dead. He soon finds out that the Ten Rings, a terrorist group, has captured him in order to get him to build a Jericho missile for them. Working with fellow captive and eventual friend Dr. Yinsen (Shaun Toub, Broken Arrow), Stark instead builds a suit out of sturdy scraps. He makes his escape and flies off, although there is a tragedy. Arriving back home after 3 months in captivity, Stark is a changed man and realizes that he must stop his weapon building industry, which angers co-owner Obidiah Stane (Jeff Bridges, K-PAX). Stark reasons that he was horrified by seeing the soldiers he rode in the tank with killed by his own weapons. So, Stark begins going around the world destroying his own creations in a red and gold suit with cover from military friend James Rhodes (Terrence Howard, Hustle and Flow) while Stane and Stark's assistant Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow, Shakespeare in Love) make everything seem as normal as possible back home. The climax comes when Stark finds that someone he knows personally put out the hit on him.

Iron Man could be considered one of the greatest films of the summer. It is possibly the best that I saw, beating out The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Possibly the best thing about this film is the performance of Downey Jr., who surprised me because I had never seen him in a film before in a major role, just as a minor major character in George Clooney's Good Night and Good Luck. He seems so real as the millionaire, the world famous guy who is doing a great job of acting because his name is nowhere near those such as Hanks, Clooney, and Cruise. His performance, along with the super cool gadgets and CGI, make this a summer blockbuster worth seeing. 

On the plus side, his wife is gorgeous. In fact, they belong here.

I hope Chris Martin calls this guy up and apologizes. I'm sure CM didn't copy him on purpose. I mean, why would he? The original song isn't even that good. But still.

I'm just going to blame this on Gwyneth-I-have-no-morals-Paltrow. She's a bad influence on Chris. Don't think I've forgotten about how she stole the screenplay for "Shakespeare in Love" from Winona Ryder's desk. Seriously though, that must've stung a little when she won an academy award for that movie. Poor Winona. Kleptomaniacs have the worst luck.

"When I was younger I fell in love with someone. He wasn't married, but he was in to drugs. So he wasn't around when I needed him because of that."

So what she's saying here, is that this dude would rather be doing rails or shooting up heroin in a bathroom somewhere, instead of being near Gwyneth Paltrow. It seems like this gentleman and I have something in common. Oh, but there's more, Paltrow's husband Chris Martin has been discussing his fondness for sleeping pills. Apparently, Martin likes to take a pill, then groggly write his disco songs about man love, or whatever. I don't listen to Coldplay, it wasn't made in the 80's and I haven't seen one double necked guitar in any of their pictures.

So, the point here is; if you're into tall, gangly white chicks who are famous, all you need to do is pick up an awkward semi-drug habit, bang away on a piano, and moan about random shit and you're in like flint. Tell them I sent you.

1. Scarlett Johansson, por "Moça com Brinco de Pérola"
2. Britney Spears, quando finge ser britânica
3. Keane Reeves, por "Drácula de Bram Stoker"
4. Dick Van Dyke, por "Mary Poppins"
5. Natalie Portman, por "Star Wars"
6. Madonna, por todos os seus filmes
7. Kevin Costner, por "Robin Hood - O Príncipe dos Ladrões"
8. Ben Aflleck, por "Shakespeare Apaixonado"
9. Gwyneth Paltrow, por "De Caso com o Acaso"
10. Elijah Wood, por "O Senhor dos Anéis"

A lista acima, com fotos e comentários do site, pode ser consultada clicando aqui.

1 I am a bit of a pedant about grammar and spelling. I realise of course, that I am now laying myself open to being corrected every time I write my blog but so be it....

2 My 25th wedding anniversary was on September 11th 2001. A very bad day to be celebrating anything. My (ex) husband had bought me a ring to celebrate the occasion. It was two long thin baguette diamonds - which looked too much like the fateful twin towers for comfort. I have hardly ever worn it.

3 My first pregnancy lasted 11 months. I was originally told my son was going to be born on 25th January but when I had a scan at the beginning of December, they said he was too small and my pregnancy wasn't as advanced as they had originally thought. They then said he was due on March 9th. He was actually born on March 19th. He still finds it very hard to get out of bed.... :-)

4 I was once on the television local news. I had been shopping in Waitrose and as I steered my wobbly trolley around a corner I was confronted by a cameraman and a woman holding a bowl of muesli. Apparently Dorset Cereals muesli (delicious-highly recommended) is selling like mad out in the Caribbean because they consider it to be an aphrodisiac. She wanted me to try a spoonful and comment. I appeared on the local news looking particularly startled and gormless, mumbling through a mouthful of muesli. Marvellous.

5 When I did my degree, I was the only girl in the class of 20 boys. At the time, Metallurgy was not a subject that appealed to girls. I only chose it because I did Maths, Physics and Chemistry 'A' levels and as I was spectacularly indecisive, I decided to study Metallurgy as I had been told it used all three subjects and I didn't have to make a decision. Bad idea. And as I was spectacularly shy too, I barely spoke to anyone for most of the time I was there. What a waste!

(This image is of Metal Corrosion and was taken with the PAXcam digital microscope camera on an Olympus metallograph at Battelle Advanced Materials. So there.)

I'm not tagging anyone in particular but I would like lots of you to have a go at this (if only to let me know I'm not as weird as all that!) Just leave a link in the comments so I can see how weird you are what you have to say.

I am very thrilled that Number 2 so has just arrived home from university after completing his final year. (Where did that time go? It doesn't seem like 5 minutes since I was dropping him off on his first day - three years ago!) He gets his results on Thursday so we are on tenterhooks until then.... It seems so odd to think that soon he will be off in the big wide world. I could get all wistful about how time flies and start reminiscing about when they were both babies but thereby lies depression and gloom, so I am just going to show what HE was like as a nipper and move swiftly on....

You may have noticed that I have gone quiet on the bookbinding front.... The large album had a major disaster a few days ago. I was sticking the cover paper onto the board cover and thought I was being very clever. (Ha! I should have known better!) Instead of putting the glue onto the paper and having to manhandle a large gluey piece of paper, I thought, 'I know, I will put the glue on the board and then I can manhandle a DRY piece of paper into place'. Genius. Except that the paper wrinkled terribly when it came into contact with the gluey board (I'm thinking that maybe this was because the act of spreading the glue onto the paper, stretches the paper first but doing it this way, the paper stretches after it is on the board and so, wrinkles up).

I tried to smooth out the paper but I managed to tear it and as I didn't have any more of this particular paper, it was a disaster of epic proportions! And it was a Brazilian marbled paper I ordered from Paper Mojo in the US. However, I have to say, Shelly at Paper Mojo was a star and has Fedexed me a couple of sheets which have just arrived. (I ordered a spare sheet too!) Luckily, as Number 2 son is now at home, I have the extra pair of hands I needed to finish covering the book, so hopefully, the next stage will go a bit more smoothly.... fingers crossed.

I am listening to Coldplay's new album Viva La Vida and I like it very much. Have I ever mentioned what a HUGE Coldplay fan I am? I have seen them twice in concert in London and then I saw them at Glastonbury three years ago. They are fantastic live. This is the new Apple iTunes ad featuring them singing the title track from the album. I suppose it is just a coincidence that Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow called their first baby Apple?

The only other thing I need to rave about is the match I watched yesterday between Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic in the final of the Stella Artois Championships at Queen's Club in London. Sublime tennis - so exciting and as close a match as you could imagine. Nadal won eventually but Djokovic played wonderfully and it was a very close run thing.

What a shame my knee is still tweaking and I can't play tennis otherwise I would have played like a demon today after watching such an inspirational match.

Yeah, right.....

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