Sunday, Mar. 10, 2002 / 3:49 p.m.

~Thinking About the Wacky Early '70s, Waiting For My Noodles To Cool~

I hate it when I'm hungry and my food is too hot to eat.

Listening to Ska on the college radio station, waiting for my Maruchan Instant Lunch, chicken noodle soup, to cool. Tired of burning my mouth, my tongue, my upper lip. Hungry, needing to shop, needing to stock the larder, not wanting any confrontations. Dilemma.

I wasn't 10 when "Live and Let Die" was my favorite movie, it wasn't released until my 11th year, or maybe I was 12 already. We went to see it in the theatre during that ice storm of '73, because they had heat, electricity there, and we did not. It must have been released in early '73. I saw it over and over again that year. And Roger Moore, in that first Bond film of his, the first time he became Bond, was indeed sexy, looking back now, is still sexy, then.

But such a departure for a Bond film. Almost the entire cast is black, the locales not fancy and European, no playgrounds of the rich, but New Orleans, seedy New Orleans, and some fictional isle, San Monique, Harlem in Manhattan. Departure, departure, departure. How odd to look back now, especially after watching them in order like this, one a week.

Those wacky early '70s. And I watched "Klute" yesterday too. Speaking of the '70s. '71? The only time Donald Sutherland appeared sexy, in his own physically quirky way...or was it in "M*A*S*H" first? Hmmm..... That hair on Jane Fonday, like a helmet. Freaky. But such an intriguing film. I caught it after the first half hour had passed, yesterday, watched almost half of it again, catching the part I'd missed, later, repeated on the Sundance channel. My favorite part? When Bree Daniels is telling her shrink about Klute being in love with her, but she's unable to find the words. She doesn't seem to know what love is. She says he's seen her ugly, mean, whore-y, he's seen her every way, and still he comes around, still he wants her, takes care of her. She can't get it. He loves her, he's fallen in love, and she is falling in love with him too, actually feels when they make love. It's all so foreign to her. Fascinating character study. And how great to see Jane in all those tight turtlenecks, braless back when braless was new and cool!

Remember the days when women felt liberated?? Now, it's WonderBras and lipstick that won't come off when you kiss. Can we say Backslide?

Hermione helped to analyze my dream, and I forgot to thank her, via email. I should write again. Yes, I see it now, it's me, ready to die, thinking it's over, totally prepared, but forced to realize there's more, it's nowhere near over. It may even be beginning anew. So obvious is my subconscious.

I played around with my resume on Monster.com. I'm even considering renaming it, something like "Renaissance Woman Looking For a Change", instead of "Customer Service/Data Entry Blah, Blah, Blah". I filled out the portion for "ideal job" and "ideal company", even ran out of character space. Character space. Hah! I went over the limit, had to delete whole lines. Fun.

I figure what the fuck? 16 people have read it, no one's offering, it's just all that "work from home" spam email crap. Really, my ideal job would be to offer my opinions on life, for lots of money. Let me tell you what I think, you pay me enough money so that I don't need to actually go to an actual job.

Or pay me to live in a Chateau in the South of France. Or, or, or. I don't want to work. I don't want a job. It's so hard to lie about it. Picture me in an interview making it up as I go along, "Oh yes, I'd love to work for your company!". I'm a terrible liar.

Work. Why am I thinking about work? I want to be thinking about my noodle soup being cool enough to eat without burning some part of my food intake orifice.

Do I need to write back to Hermione? Or can she simply know that I appreciate her dream analyses, as always? She knows.

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