Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Oh I just love “alone time”. I’m going to have just the best Canada Day by myself because the Beast is at work. It’ll give me the chance to work on my novel/screenplay that I started in 2003. Now where did I put those research notes. Oh, here they are. Maybe before I look at them I ought to make myself a Canada Day mojito. We happen to have all the ingredients on hand so that must be a sign that I should indulge. Okie-Dockie. Now let’s see. Oh this is funny–here are some notes I made after reading an essay by Pauline Kael. How terribly precocious! Oh, but this is charming–notes from that Italian cinema class I took when I lived in Florence. There’s The Conformist, La Strada, Otto e Mezzo, The Sheltering Sky–looks like I really enjoyed the ending of that one because I even drew a little picture. And I made notes about movies I watched outside of class too. These notes were intended to inform my own screenplay: There’s Jules and Jim, Ordinary People, My Dinner with Andre, Good Will Hunting, Raiders of the Lost Ark? Well that one is sort of weird, isn’t it? And Jaws too. What’s this? Star Wars Episode I and II? This is very embarrassing.
I better just go straight to my story. Let’s see how many pages I have saved so far in the computer. I see three different drafts. This one is only five pages. How about this one? Twelve pages. Much better. (Reading.) Well this is just awkward. This is just plain bad. Oh dear. The tenses are all messed up. Plus, I don’t think it works as half-novel and half-screenplay. And who’s narrating this piece of shit? Oh boy do I feel frustrated. I’m going to have a second mojito–just to clear my head because I can’t make heads or tails of this mess.
I’m a real jack-ass. I need to delete all of this bullshit, and fast too before I have second thoughts. I should start fresh! YES! No. I shouldn’t be drinking alone right now. I should go find the Beast in Nathan Philip’s Square and watch the Dave Brubeck quartet with him! That would be so romantic! I’d find him in the crowd and tell him that I tried to work on my literary masterpiece but I just didn’t have it in me today. Then we could go get dinner. Or, I could make dinner now and have it all ready for us when we get home after the concert! Yes. I’m going to turn this day around. Just you wait and see! I’m going to make that Jamie Oliver asparagus pasta. I printed the recipe the other day from his website. First, I think this calls for one more mojito while I dice up my onions, leeks, baby zucchini, and my asparagus. This shouldn’t take too long. Fine. That’s done. Shit. I’m supposed to use fettuccine. I only have some penne. That’ll do though, I’m sure. Okay so I get these vegetables all sweaty and then I add some vegetable stock and let them simmer until they’re soft. I can do that. There we go. Stock is in. Oops. It says here to add a handful of basil before I add the stock and let it wilt and then add the stock. Shit. Shouldn’t matter: I’ll just add the basil now. Arrgggg! FUCK! It says to reserve the asparagus tips and cook those in the last three minutes with the boiling pasta! No matter, I’ll just pull them out. Ouch! Those sweaty vegetables are hot! What time is it anyway? It’s 8:00pm. How in hell can it be that late? Dave Brubeck starts playing at 8!!!! I’m going to miss the show! I am shit. Where the ass is my mojito. Empty? Well I’lljustmakeanotherone.
I’m not going to see Dave Brubeck. I’ll eat by myself. Just me and Jamie’s delicious, summery pukka pasta. What does pukka mean anyway? Don’t you think Jamie’s tongue is a bit too big for his mouth? That’s mean. There’s no reason to get mean now drunkity drunk drunk. Jamie has never failed you in the past so don’t take out your own frustrations and anxieties out on poor, youthful, successful, married-with-three-kids Jamie. Don’t you do this to him.
What next. Okay. Puree the vegetables with a hand-held thing. Fine. ARRGGUH! It’s fucking flying up in my face and burning me!!! Why is it doing that!!!!! Oh. Because the pot is too shallow. I should have put the veg into another container but that would have been one more dish to wash. Okay, blend this up until it’s creamy. I’m BLENDING JAMIE BUT IT’S NOT GETTING CREAMY!!!! WTF JAMIE???? This looks chunky. This looks like chunky barf. Hahaha. That’s funny. Barf.
Okay Jamie, why in hell do I have to dirty ANOTHER dish to fry a garlic clove at this point in the game? Why wouldn’t I have done that when we sweated the other vegetables? Would it really make that much of a difference? Plu-leese. Fine. I’ll do it but I’m not fucking smiling about this. Okay, now I add the baby barf to this pan with the garlic and let that cook until my pasta is ready. I’ll just do up a load of dishes while the penne’s boiling. I will be careful not to overcook the pasta. I will make it AL DANTE. That’s a joke. Sometimes people say al dante but they meant to say al dente. You see, Dante is that writer. Dente means something about teeth, or being hard, or having a bite, like how you want pasta to be: having a bit of a bite to it. You don’t want it to be like Dante! Hahaha. It would be pretty BORING if it were like Dante! Hahaha. And it would be, like over 700 years old!
I am not leaving the house. I am getting into my jammies. I will not go see Dave Brubeck, even though Dave Brubeck helped to define my dad’s musical tastes when he was just a boy. I will watch some of the DVDs I rented today. It was supposed to rain all day so I picked up several things to watch, but then it turned out to be sunny goddamnit. I didn’t write one page of my novel/screenplay. Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up. You don’t have a novel dummy. And you don’t know how to write a screenplay. Who do you think you are anyway? Jane Austin? Steven Spielberg? Well you’re not. But I’ve been working on it for six years now!!!! I have an entire 12 pages of this project!! That’s 3000 words! I wrote 1.37 words every day for the last six years. I’m pathetic. God I wish I had cigarettes. I wonder if the Beast keeps a pack hidden for emergencies. I could go buy some. NO. I AM NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE. Okay. Let’s plate this pasta and watch some True Blood. My mom LOVES that show. And she’s so darn cute so the show must be cute too.
This pasta tastes like nothing. I can’t believe it took so much effort to make and it tastes like a can of shit asparagus soup poured over Dante pasta. I’m shocked Jamie. And terribly disappointed. This True Blood though. Man oh man, there sure is a lot of sex in this show. I can’t believe my mom loves it so much. It’s so…graphic. My God. Was that a penis? What the eff is going on here?!?! MOM?!
Well that had to be the most dissatisfying meal I’ve ever cooked. I think I’ll have a second plate just to be sure it’s as bad as I think it is.
Yes. Yes it is that bad. Why did I just eat a second plate of shitty pasta? I feel sick. You know what’ll make me feel better before I watch a second episode of True Blood? A bowl of srawberries and ice cream. Yes. I deserve it after all. I worked so hard today on my novel/screenplay. Not true liar. I wasted a perfectly beautiful day INSIDE, feeling sorry for myself, and I missed out on a chance to see Dave Brubeck. My dad will be so disappointed when he reads this. But my mom will be proud because I finally started watching True Blood! There! That’s something good! Maybe I’m not so pathetic after all.
I don’t think eating a pint of ice cream was a good idea. I feel tired. I’m just going to put my head down here on the couch and wait for the Beast to get home and I’ll tell him how terrible my day was and how much I missed him and I don’t think it’s a good idea to have mojito makings in the house during my alone time. Just look what happens.
Foodie: NO STARS
Beast: **1/2 He ate the left-overs two days later straight out of the fridge. He said it was quite good, and “it would be nice on a picnic.”