I'm watching the Academy Awards, have gone through about half a box of tissues already, it's already going overtime, and they're finally getting to the best male actor. I have no idea while I am being so emotional - well, no, I think I do.
I grew up in L.A., my dad wrote for television for a few (hungry) years, and I spent an incredible amount of my childhood sitting in movies (however, I never remember my butt going numb, so you are still ahead of me on that, Harmony). So the Academy Awards was always a night I/we (family, friends, fanatics) were glued to the tube.
Annette, my best friend, seemed to be by my side for almost every movie from about 1967 through 1977. She's the one who, instead of going with me to the Academy Awards to protest against "Midnight Cowboy" being nominated for 'Best Picture', got me to SEE it. She sat with me through TWO consecutive showings of "2001: A Space Odyssey" And I'm getting a little choked up just thinking about it, so that may be part of it.
So maybe it's just a lot of the emotions that have come from movies. Part of it was seeing the servicemen and women presenting one award from Iraq. And I KNOW a lot of it is from the old footage they have been showing of past Best Actors, Best Movies, Best Music.
What can I say? I'm a sap. And I can't even blame it on PMS anymore.
We are living in a foreign country. -Edmond Jabès, The Book of
Questions Image: Edward S. Curtis, Chaiwa, a Tewa Indian girl with a
butterfly whorl ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment