"Aging is a disease."-- Jonathan Weiner
Not four hours after uploading Turnstile, drifting into Weiner's obsession with gerontology, and balking despite symmetrical mindsets, the Apple 5c pings me into a Hollywood lesbian's group messaging circle. Despite the encroachment of late spring indigence with less and less ability to counteract it, I am not beyond a certain level of bemused sniggering at interconnected folly. I queried Diane Anderson-Minshall roughly two years ago with a cinema centered pitch, one in which I am still interested, for Curve Magazine, with minor diabolical motives on my part: Once in the gateway, there is no harm in keeping an eye out on gay glamour confetti. I mentioned Josie's name in the pitch to indicate I had associates. Diane did not respond, and I am mature enough to understand those odds, but never imagined importing Gmail into an iPhone would open the shutter on this woman's privacy, which, even within my psychological hostility, wouldn't be fair. Necessity being the mother of literacy as well as invention, I managed to shut off group messaging, and then fussed to both aunts before finally sinking under REM activity. I balk at this level of obtrusiveness in texting, and the fact that I held onto to her editorial email doesn't mean I want to read her fluff about getting ready for school.
Funny, none the less.
The European rendition of The Birdcage is superior to the American version. Lane and Hackman have a valiant pillow fight, but the foreign release is better grounded in the trigger ignitions of gender identity. Now that I am really sabotaging what's left of my career ambitions, my twilight zone may have a few intriguing page dates left, si?
Weiner's view on biological entropy is far too fixated on stability and stasis.
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