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Dreamgirls is quite an excellent movie. Lots of chewy stuff that I want to discuss with people. Plus really good performances all around. And sumptuously shot, too. If Chicago can win Best Picture then this should surely be at least nominated.

(It was also not the movie I should have seen at the time, but that's another story. Also, apologies to everyone I didn't see it with -- I went alone, somewhat on the spur of the moment, as it was showing only a few blocks downhill from my house.)

It's so good that it makes the thing I was watching it for research for more complicated. That's a good thing, I think. We'll see.

43 Plays About 43 Presidents was every bit as good as I anticipated, and if you have a chance to see it, you should.

Playoff football is so good this year that it almost guarantees a boring-ass Superbowl. That's OK. We'll have snacks and good company if you join us.

I bought maybe two dozen tiny purple eggplants at the Berkeley Bowl yesterday and now have to figure out what to do with them. They were so cute! I couldn't help it!

Also, since I am not doing this in chronological order, I was introduced to a new general interest independent bookstore in the Fruitvale/Laurel district on Friday night, owned by some very nice people, too. Then I heard lots of witty, smutty, moving, naughty writing from both old friends and new folks -- OK, a new folk. Jeff Mann was the new folk, and his "History of Barbed Wire" really impressed me.

Actually, to be honest, his drawl reminded me of Dave Smith, his subject matter reminded me of the very masculine poets of my apprenticeship -- and he's a gay bear, signifier of my adulthood. So it all felt very warm and familiar and at the same time, meaningful and new.

So there.


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