2012-01-03 - 1:38 p.m.
I love words and I love stringing them together so that someone, somewhere, nods their head, says "yes," but some days, all the other arts seem superior. What I'm saying is that, yesterday, braved the cold January wind and walked up to The Charles. Watched The Artist. A breathtakingly beautiful movie. Stylized in the best way, in the way that says: yes, I'm modeling myself after this other, older thing, but I'm not stupid, and I still want to break your heart, make you nod, say "yes."
You know how when you get really into an album or a team or a movie or an actress or a Flannery O'Connor and you just have to know more because then, as long as you're taking in more and more and more, the experience won't end? Yesterday afternoon, after the movie, got home, watched the movie's trailer online because I didn't want it to end. The trailer uses Benny Goodman's "Sing Sing Sing," the first thirty seconds of which I will always love, have always loved, and which could rouse me from coma. That art, you know. That art is something else all right.
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