Tag Archives: periods

Instant Gratification: Quills

So as I mentioned in the little guest bloggy thing I wrote earlier, I am really into Doug Wright right now.  I think his plays are fantastic and he’s a great speaker, very inspirational, and he was nice to me when I met him at a hotel bar.  So, naturally, I made Billy watch the movie he wrote (slash adapted from the play he wrote) with me.  It’s on Netflix Instant!  Hooray!

What to say about Quills?  It’s a re-imagining of the last years of the Marquis de Sade so it’s all… periody.  Ew, guys.  I mean it’s like a period piece, not that it’s about periods.  Also it’s really sexual.  Also not about periods.  Ew, come on.  This Instant Gratification is going off the rails early on.  FOCUS UP.

You guys, I’m going to be really honest here.  I liked it but the end was a bit heavy handed and stuff so I would really probably give it like a B.  Which isn’t to say you shouldn’t watch it.  You probably should.  Especially if you have a certain fondness for Doug Wright or the Marquis de Sade (Do you really like the Marquis de Sade?  Yeah?  You’re into that… kind of thing?  Okay.  No judgement.) or whatever.  And the themes it explores are really interesting.  Like about sexual hypocrisy and mental illness and what would one do as an artist if one was not allowed to create art?  That would be terrible!  Not sure I would write plays on the walls of my asylum cell with my own poop, but that’s just me.  See?  It’s kind of a gross movie.  But the acting is great!  Remember Joaquin Phoenix back before he sabotaged his own career and public persona with that STUPID fake documentary he made with Casey Affleck?  Dude was actually a really good actor.  And kind of a babe.  And Geoffrey Rush and Michael Caine were, obviously, amazing.  And Kate Winslet can do no wrong.  So, yeah.  And the writing is full of these profound truths, which, incidentally, is just exactly how Doug Wright talks, like out loud even.  He’s full of truth!

So yeah.  Put it in your queue and watch it some night while you drink red wine and let it make you feel better about your own sexual perversions.


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When I got this week’s issue of the New Yorker in the mail yesterday I was really struck by the cover.  It’s a really simple illustration of the big, green lawn in front of the white house, with a little black and white puppy sitting right smack in the middle of it.  Bo Obama!  At first I wasn’t sure why I loved it so much or why it gave me such a deep sense of calm happiness.  Then, when I was just peeing (Thursday morning overshare!), I realized that it’s not just because I love puppies. (Though I do.  Deeply.) It’s because when Obama was elected and he gave that speech on election night and he said his daughters would be getting a well-deserved puppy to take with them to the white house it made him seem, to me, like a regular dad.  He’s been working really hard lately and he hasn’t seen his family much.  Work is crazy right now.  Dad has to fix a global recession, reverse global warming, and finish two wars.  And his daughters have been really well-behaved.  So they’re getting a puppy.  Because even when everything sucks, there are still puppies in the white house and a kitty at my apartment and babies in bellies and tulips outside.

In other news MY PERIOD WILL NOT END.  (This post had such potential to be nice and then I just went ahead and ruined it.  Seriously though.  Enough already, period.)

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