Saturday, March 06, 2004

Yesterday I found a ticket stub for In America in my jacket and realized that might be the last decent movie I've seen. They cram all the Oscar bait into December and then leave us nothing but the leavings from the studio bins. You know what I'm talking about. Ashley Judd thrillers. Remakes of cheesy 80s movies. Remakes of cheesy 70s television series. Desperate attempts to film every last Stephen King story. And the only other choice is the Passion of Mel Gibson.

Since Hollywood has committed their ritual betrayal of the duty to entertain, I went to Widener and picked up two collections of novellas so I can reread the George R. R. Martin pieces in anticipation of the release of Book 4 of his Song of Ice and Fire series. I am totally obsessed with these books, although I don't have them memorized as these folks have or the way I have Lord of the Rings. (Of course Gandalf was a Maia!)
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