12 September, 2005

Out of Nashville

One of the upsides to a kidney stone (hahaha) is that you can lay on the couch all drugged up and watch movies you've always meant to see but never got around to. And if they suck you're too stoned to care.

Today, twenty years after the rest of the free world, I finally watched Out Of Africa. I had avoided it because I generally dislike those overlong movies that look like slowmoving calendars you'd get from an insurance company (see under Wolves, Dances With). "Yes, Jerrold, it's boring as dried paint, but isn't Slovania a luuurvly setting?"

This I finally watched because it's about the writer Isak Dineson and I have a bit of a thing for writers. I am one, and we are a funny breed. We don't come out much, so when we see one of our own there's a lot of pheremon-sniffing. I'm especially curious about these Great Writers of Yore who Had Lives. Much of the talk these days is about the lack of real life experience in society and how that has deprived us of Real Writers.

Halfway into the film I was downright morose. How will I ever be a writer without syphillis? Without a bad marriage and an African coffee farm? I've never led a cattle drive across 300 miles of Africa to feed my bastard husband and the other British troops, only to contract the rot of Pangloss and a ratty compass. It was depressing as hell.

You know what, though? Karen Blixen may have loved an elephant killer, but I've loved a man who builds machines for fun and makes my heart dance. I've been able to find happiness without desert mud and I once gave Garth Brooks a dollar for the Coke machine. Not too shabby, and Camille Paglia doesn't have to read my happy little books.


At 11:48 PM, September 12, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Best. Closing. Paragraph. Ever.


At 12:29 AM, September 13, 2005, Blogger John H said...

damn, you are good.

I'd give up coffee for a week if I could write as well as you just did in this post.

desert mud and Garth Brooks


At 1:27 AM, September 13, 2005, Blogger Sharon Cobb said...


At 9:18 AM, September 13, 2005, Blogger melusina said...

Garth Brooks needed a dollar for the Coke machine?!?

Don't forget, you now have the drug-induced kidney stone days too.

At 11:21 AM, September 13, 2005, Blogger Kat Coble said...

You are all sweet to say so, but now you're going to turn me into a drug addict.

If the posts I get praised for are the ones I write under the influence, I'm gonna be the Next Rush Limbaugh. I'd be going for Dylan Thomas (Woohoo--Welshman!) but I'd end up with Rush.

At 12:06 PM, September 13, 2005, Anonymous Sarcastro said...

I've never been able to stay awake for that entire movie. I imagine that it ends with Meryl wearing a t-shirt that says "I led a 300 mile cattle drive across Africa, and all I got was the clap."


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