20 minutes

I think I've reached a point where my life is totally in disarray, and things are spiralling out of control. I'm just going to let things lie while I disappear off to Paris, the home for six months. Hopefully, after half a year of no physical contact, everything will dissipate.

Unfortunately, just as I meet someone who's smart and funny and charming and apparently totally in sync with me, I'm off. Actually, I don't really know that yet, considering I've only spoken with her for something like 20 minutes. Still, sometimes you just have a feeling. Well, I'll find out more on Friday. But a photography exhibition? Not sure I'm up to it. Hate being out of my depth. Whatever happened to the movies? Speaking of that, I loved Hitch. Sappy, cheesy, pointless, but funny and perfectly made. Great movie.

Wonder why I love movies so much? As a form of entertainment, I find them to really work, even better than the written word at times. Particularly when you have really great, nuanced performances. You get so much out of the way a person moves, or performs an action, or quirks an eyebrow, that it would seem contrived to put it down on paper. How can a writer convey the vulnerability that fills the scene when Marlon Brando tries on Eva Marie Saint's glove in On the Waterfront, or the sheer exuberance of Gene Kelly Singin' in the Rain? What would seem clumsy and awkward on paper becomes possible onscreen.

For me, the written word creates worlds and characters and stories. A movie captures moments. A movie is all about moments. Finding the right moments is what distinguishes the good from the bad.

Ah, I'm tired. Some other time.