2002-01-26 | 2:59 p.m.

corduroy licorice's dad was given the third degree by the local university. an honorary ph.d. mr. licorice already had an honorary b.a. and m.a. from the same school.

***

it looks like rain today. yay! i love it when it rains, but this l.a. winter has been dryer than george hamilton's epidermis.

speaking of rain, it may start raining men anytime now. historically speaking, spring has been my season of greatest pheromonal success, peaking with the spring of 2000. hoy boy, that kissing season was a dilly. but anyhow, this subject sprung up because when i opened my e-mail in-box today, out fell two notes from boys. both initiating get-togethers, and i don't mean spring cotillions...although that's a lovely thought.

one note was from the former lust interest who i ran into at the pete yorn show. (did i mention that i met pete yorn, shook his hand, etc.? oh yes, i'm sure i must've.) anyhow, no big deal there. we hang out a couple of times a year, exchange CDs, exchange some kisses and handily avoid any further entanglements for another four to six months. my friend c-girl once flatteringly summed up the relationship like this: "you'll always be cooler than him, my dear girl.� that's why he will never be able to resist the pull."

the other note was from...drumroll, please...desert storm! does that figure, or does that figure? just a couple of week's ago, at c-girl's birthday dinner, we ran into one of desert storm's top advisors. something told me his buddy would mention the path-crossing post-haste. i guess my assumption had some gumption.

so desert storm is all breezy in his note, suggesting a movie viewing appointment and leaving the ball in my court (specifying that he doesn't have my phone number anymore). i'm sure those seven digits were incinerated shortly after our break-up. he is a bitter little man, yo.

my first reaction to the idea of spending time with him one-on-one was that of nausea. the catch is that if i don't follow-through, i'll be the bitch with hang-ups. what a world, what a world. i guess i can stomach one evening with the bloke. he's funny and all, but to borrow a phrase from alanis...it's a jagged little pill to swallow.

***

and now, i must speak to you of a wonderful foreign film called what time is it there?

if you'd like to read a professional's take on it, check out my favorite movie reviewer mike d'angelo's review in time out magazine.

this is a film that plays with the idea of time in a most intriguing way. it reminds me of a dogma 45 film in the sense that it feels so natural with no score or soundtrack and all naturally occuring sounds (though some seemingly exaggerated). the words spoken are few, giving them more intensity.

director tsai ming-liang opens on each new scene and never moves the camera, letting the drama of what's playing "on stage" take its own hierarchy in the viewer's perception. his sense of composition is exquisite. most of the movie was shot in interior settings, adding to the emotional tension. its still torment resonates beautifully.

this is the first film i've ever seen that made paris and its denizens unattractive, but ming-liang was expressing his female character's perception of the city of lights, so, no offense, mon amis.

while watching the characters in their daily lives�eating, urinating, orgasming�i really got the sense of how we humans are so much like animals...partly set apart by our ability to tell time.

in summary, you've gotta watch it! pardon the pun.

<----������� ---->