A tall drink of Gallic water

I wonder what kinds of things I could accomplish if I spent the same amount of time researching my latest cinematic obsession (the French actor Louis Garrel) as I did putting effort into creating something I could share with people in a proud sort of way. You know, as opposed to creating a heart shaped collage of that tall drink of Gallic water; that would be something I could only share with myself, in a room alone, with the blinds drawn. I cannot help my brain and its diversionary tactics. I have spent years honing them, after all.

In truth I have spent only a minimal amount of time looking for articles on Garrel. If I had to break down my time usage in percentages, I'd put "Garrel Queries" at 10%. The other percentages could probably be divided up into driving, working, Facebooking, writing, drinking and plugging in hypothetical vacation destinations into sites like Expedia.com and tallying up the costs of an imaginary vacation and then logging into my bank account to remember that I have no money for that noise. In that order.

We are on the cusp of July 4th, the holiday that means quite a bit to us Americans. And by "means quite a bit" I mean we get the day off, if we are lucky, and we eat a lot of crap we wouldn't normally eat by the light of loud, dog and cat terrifying fireworks displays. My jaded flippancy is not intentional; I love fireworks. They are the closest thing I can get to the sparkling, colorful place I used to imagine the world to be when I was little. This is not an exaggeration. Though I never imagined the fairies to be real and I was always the child slightly skeptical of Santa from an early age, I have always been enthralled with the exotic "other". In other words, I am restless and never satisfied with what's in front of me and everything that isn't my life or myself is exotic and interesting to me. Whoa! How the hell did I get from July 4th to there? I think I might need a beer. Anyway, I love fireworks and can't wait to see them tomorrow. I also can't wait to eat a bunch of crap I wouldn't normally eat by the rocket's red glare.

This Friday I am making my first foray onto Fire Island. It seems unbelievable to me that in all the years I have lived on or around Long Island, I have never visited. Time to take the plunge. I'd also like to swim in the Atlantic Ocean for a bit. I find that I am in need of that small, yet terrifying, bit of humility afforded me by the ocean. I am fully committed to be a beach bum for a day. I bought a beach umbrella and everything. I still haven't found sunscreen in SPF 1000 yet, but the search is ongoing.

I recently watched Upside Down, a huge film that meant well but didn't really do it for me. Yet it did make me sad because I could completely see what they wanted to do. And it was well-crafted, visually, in an entirely new way. It was almost like someone took an especially striking Instagram filter and put it over the whole film. I mean, sure, the moral of the story was a bit heavy handed and if I were in any way physics minded, I might have been in a lather over the truth of it all but I'm not and I wasn't. Also, that Jim Sturgess is adorable. I want to squeeze him in an entirely sexual way. I didn't even mind his American accent, even though it sounded like it was from Brooklyn despite the fact that his character was from a different planet in the future. By the by, why do all films that take place in the post apocalyptic future give the characters American accents? Is it because all historical films give the characters British accents, regardless of the setting or time period? I'd love to see a film where all the characters have French accents even though the story does not take place in France and no one in the film makes reference to it. I think that would amuse me.

That reminds me, I need to go see if Louis Garrel gave any recent interviews in English. I'll be busy for little while. Happy 4th!