My obsession with sleep embarrasses me. When people mention slumber, my ears perk up. How much sleep did you get? Because I only got 5 or maybe 5.2 hours. Is that enough? What do you take? Oh that? It never worked for me. Then around my bedtime, which careens toward me as I type, I get a second wind and want to stay up forever. I become enraged as closeby people snore the second the head hits the pillow. For five days in a row, I've barely slept and am reaching crazytown fast. Reminds me of that Warren Beatty movie Bullroar or Bullwinkle or some such (Warren found a legitimate way to do Halle Berry) where the character operates on no sleep. I've been channeling Obama and McCain, who probably haven't slept in two years and make my schedule look like pie (though it probably is like pie). How did they get through the campaign without buckets of drugs?For this fuzzy day, I chose comfort instead of common sense in Rhinoceros Eyes, a freaky quirky flick with screwed up people doing weird things and something to do with magic props and "seeing." It has a fantastic cast including my imaginary boyfriend Gale Harold (I wondered if he was able to vote), Paige Turco, and Michael Pitt (the new Leonardo who might actually be better than Leo). I enjoyed Pitt's floppy hair, Paige's sparkling face and GH's usual ability to make me forget that my iron is on while I burn a shirt. My brain could only take so much.
And dare I forget--how great that Obama is our new Prez? I blubbered quietly and unexpectedly (a little was sleep deprivation) at that miraculous moment. We've waited a long time.
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