The Candle Snuffing.

Wow.

Having worked on an entry for close to two hours, I realized upon the reviewing that it didn't really make any sense, and read rather badly. Excusable maybe, considering the emotional slump I was in, but not acceptable. I have my inane posts, but they are quality inane posts. I am my own Quality Control, and I refuse to subject my readers, however few, to actual bad writing.

Suffice to say that I had a bad day. Not slit-wrists bad, just...one of those rare times my own company strangely does not suffice, and no one was actually, well, around. And I choose to watch a lovely, lovely movie. It's rather like knowing you have to choose an item to shove up your arse, and picking a durian, thinking it would a good idea.

The lovely film in question is Spanglish, and I can't quite do it justice. Quality stuff, as with most Sandler films, and reaffirms my vague notions of learning Spanish and trying to date Hispanic women, because Paz Vega is amazing stuff.

Please watch it, because you're rather unlikely to suffer the same sort of genetic mutation, that demands empathetic equal and opposite reactions, I do. In brief, the better and more I like a film, the bigger the piece of shit I feel like afterwards. Covered briefly, I think, in one of the previous entries. Movie Melancholia, but hey, who really cares about one more Emo guy out there.

The process of writing the previous post aided the whole reality-resinking a little. I am slightly better.

My apologies for putting you through this.