Penn-y for your thoughts

I read a boat load (yacht, actually) of movie reviews every day of my life, and as much as I enjoy them I could never write them myself.  I spend every night of my life watching said movies.     

Part of me hopes a light will come on in that department and I’ll suddenly become good at it, but the other part of me hopes I never sound that pretentious no matter how much I know about the director, the producer, or the apparent texture of the 1^st A.D.’s balls.   

I feel weird enough signing work e-mails with the name, April, instead of “Ape” or “FARTRIL”.     

I saw Into the Wild by myself in a terribly overcrowded theater (!!!) over the weekend and enjoyed it immensely.  I haven’t read the book, but I’ve read the title DOZENS of times as I pass it on our bookshelf on the way to the kitchen for more of Laura’s sweet potato bread. 

“That’s one hell of a good looking book.” 

“Yeah, self, but I ask you this – Can you eat it with a glass of milk while watching Jeopardy?” 

 “No.” 

“That’s what I thought.”   

I had to keep myself from crying during several parts and I usually do this by staring at the back of the head in front of me wondering “What’s in there?” or thinking about something funny like how Ben’s feet mysteriously smell like popcorn on occasion.   

Oh no, this time the head in front of me belonged to an old. Man. crying.  Nowhere to run to, baby. 

It’s like the picture of a computer within a computer and so on. 

All I could think about was crying and how great it would feel to do it and how wrong it would be to hug the old man crying while crying and also trying to explain where that computer within a computer analogy came from out loud.   

I wouldn’t do that normally, but sometimes emotions take hold and “we” can become irrational.     

That would be my review of Into the Wild so far. 

I would also like to add that how dare you glue pubes to Emile Hirsch’s face?  Can we not find convincing faux facial hair in this day and age?  He’s a great actor!   

Next time let’s splurge on the make-up effects, eh Penn?  I hope you’re reading this somewhere.  And don’t think I’ve forgiven you for I Am Sam. 

Not even close.