remake-orama...

 I seem to have been reading a lot of worryingly deep and meaningful stuff recently, but obviously that way lies sheer craziness and thus I tend to stick to burbling instead about the terribly inconsequential things (because, honestly, the escapism and narratives fixes are all that's standing between me and a prescription for antidepressants some days.)  I'm fixated, sometimes, by where the line gets drawn between what matters and what should not - it does not matter, of course, where a word goes in a sentence, or whether you get to use a semi-colon Just So.  But a part of my brain seems to derive so much pleasure from the particular words, and how they fit and do not fit, that I have convinced myself that it must be at least some measure of the entirety of civilisation somehow... and it, is, logically, to  a point.

Hmm, what matters...  that Russell Crowe is officially No Good at picking films any longer.  Having caught the preview of The Next Three Days for free, I'm officially glad not have have paid for the damn tickets.. 

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