I'm finishing The Professional, which I started watching for perhaps the fifth time on Tuesday evening. This half of the movie has lots more of Gary Oldman's character, Stan, which is an absolute treat. I understand Gary Oldman is quite the alcoholic nutjob but it can't be healthy to so utterly inhabit the psychotic characters he's known for. It's just a treat to watch him work, although it makes me sad that he pays a high pyschological price for his abilities. On his drinking, he noted at one point "Someone once described alcoholics as egomaniacs with low self-esteem. Perfect definition." He has the gift of disappearing into his character, so you know, yes, that's Gary Oldman, but you're watching his work unfold and you're so totally sold on the character you forget who is creating it, you just know that it's been created and it is perfection. No one else could have delivered lines like this with such utter conviction, such truth:
Stan: Do you like life, sweetheart?
Mathilda: Yes.
Stan: That's good, because I take no pleasure in taking a life if it's from a person who doesn't care about it.
Also a treat: when Leon and Mathilda are trapped in the apartment and snipers are firing at them, Leon has to save his potted plant, the only family he had until he met Mathilda, which is in its place in the window, so he sprints past the window and grabs his plant out of the window and is running through the apartment with the plant in one hand and his gun in the other. Such a fantastic bit of follow-through on his character.
And wow: that shot when Gary Oldman's character shoots him in the back, but you don't see the shot or the bullet hit him. You see the doorway he's walking toward, the daylit doorway leading out of the basement of their apartment building, he's almost out, and then there's a flare of light, the doorway goes white, the camera stops and slides slowly down to the floor. It's the first/only shot from Leon's point of view and it's both unexpected and heartbreaking. And the wonderful suprise gift Leon has for Stan. So good.
How much do I love breakfast tacos? So much I named one of my IMP mix CDs after them (complete with photo of the original Las Manitas* as the cover image).
So I was quite excited when AustinFit magazine listed Austin's Top 25 Tacos in their October 2008 issue. I haven't gotten the chance to explore all the options, though, and the magazine just sits in a basket by my front door. Then last weekend I met a friend from high school at The Screaming Goat for tacos and a how've-you-been-the-last-20-years conversation and I mentioned my desire to conduct a tour of these 25 taco joints, allowing both my friend and I to experience the taco spectrum and also hang out on a semi-regular basis. Sadly, AustinFit does not have the list archived and I will have to type it out. Rude! So, here are the places I propose Miss Pat and I experience:
[bolded = I haven't been there]
1. Nueva Onda: obvious, I know, but I've never been
2. Galaxy Cafe: I've eaten post-group-run breakfast there a couple times and it is fantastic. Terrific coffee, too, in self-serve urns.
3. Juanita's: this is the little caboose outside of Body Adorned, where I've gotten some excellent fill work done--so fast and yet so solid; never thought to stop in for tacos. (Post-tattoo, I've always walked down to the Ben & Jerry's store for comfort). Like many cabooses, Juanita's has no web page.
4. Maria's Taco Xpress: ah, been here many times. I'll make sure my friend has. Meaux's Special Award: most fucking annoying web site.
5. Taco Shack: local chain; I think I've eaten at their Guadalupe location
6. El Sol y La Luna: never been there but I like their sign.
7. Las Manitas: this place is quite gone now. It was supposed to be relocated but no news yet.
8. Juan in a Million: this place has been mentioned several times as a post-group-run spot, but I have yet to make it.
9. Mr. Natural: aw hell yeah--their ability to make vegan Mexican food so delicious is simply magical.
10. Torchy's: oh, the Brushfire = Jamaican jerk chicken, grilled jalapenos, mango, sour cream, and cilantro served on a flour tortilla with our Diablo sauce = YUM. I've eaten at their dine-in store but want to hit the trailer too.
11. Mi Madres: another east side favorite I have yet to experience.
12. Las Cazuelas: never heard of this place but the magazine review mentions an "addictive creamy verde salsa"
13. Tamale House #3: promoted in the magazine as a bargain for two-item tacos
14. Curra's: This place's parking lot is so packed on weekend mornings that I've never eat there, but the magazine mentions "Oaxacan coffee (mmm...vanilla)" so I suppose we'll have to work something out
15. Whole Foods: I've eaten WF breakfast tacos many times and highly recommend them. The taco bar staffers really stuff these things so full that they can hardly roll the tortilla up, and you can get all kinds of healthy options, such as whole wheat or spelt tortillas, roasted veggies, or vegan chorizo. And they are fricking cheap too, and come with fresh salsa. Big ups to WF for their taco bar.
16. Little Mexico: part of the TexMex Mile on South 1st, Little Mexico is kind of a scary looking shack, which is why I've never eaten there. Must be bold in this endeavor, however.
17. Joe's Bakery: another eastside place I've never heard of.
18. Wheatsville Food Coop: although rife with hippies, Wheatsville does provide other yummy deli items so I'd be willing to wade through the hippies to reach the taco counter.
19. Amaya's Taco Village: located close to my friend's house and is supposed to be one of those hidden gems
20. La Cocina de Consuelo: "All you need to know is that the tacos are expertly made, they're not served after 11 a.m., and the kitchen is closed on Saturdays." Interesting that they are closed on Saturdays--Consuelo a Mexican Jew observing the Sabbath? Must investigate.
21. El Arroyo: another obvious place I have never been. Meaux's Special Award: 2nd-most annoying web site.
22. Taco Deli: I've had Taco Deli as post-race fare; they put shredded carrot in their tacos, which I find off-putting. Must visit their point of origin and see if it gets better.
23. Rudy's BBQ: These are OK.
24. Austin Java: As the prices and level of crowding at Austin Java continue to escalate, their tacos might not be worth it; must discuss.
25. El Chilito: a favorite eastside tacqueria of mine; I'll make sure Pat has been there too.
Meaux's #26: You know who has an excellent breakfast taco setup? Lava Java. Not only do they provide a high-value deal of 2 tacos with 3 fillings plus a coffee for sub-$4, the fillings they offer are unbeatable. They offer grilled onions and grilled tomatos that are out of this world, particularly when combined with the black beans in a whole wheat tortilla. YUM. Must make sure my friend has this delicious experience.
*I ate at Las Manitas only twice, as I don't get downtown that often, but the first time was an iconic event for me. I'd come to Austin for a couple days in May 1993 to find a place to live when I returned in the fall to attend UT's grad school in Russian language and literature. What a lost little semester that turned out to be--I returned to Chicago at semester's end, having realized that the Russian professor's life was not for me. It was a wierd time. ANYWAY. That day in May, when I was so filled with optimism and excitement, I drove into Austin early in the morning from my parents' place near Marble Falls and happened upon Las Manitas as I drove through downtown looking for the apartment locator's office. I'd been living in Chicago for 2 years and was amazed at how tiny Austin's downtown was, and how quiet. Although it was a weekday, I easily found parking on Congress (this was many years ago, remember) and an open counter stool at Las Manitas. The breakfast tacos were excellent and cheap and I came to associate Las Manitas always with that May morning, the stillness of the tiny downtown, which made the city seem so easy and approachable, lacking the rush and congestion and density of downtown Chicago.
IMDB mentions that for The Professional (aka Leon),
All of the interiors of Léon's apartment were shot in Paris; all of the shots of the outside corridor were shot six weeks earlier in New York.
I would not have guessed that from watching the movie, although Jean Reno does look perfectly the part of the downtrodden French laborer. (The way he slumps over his ironing board is almost a caricature of the melancholy French peasant, except for how committed he is to his movement.) And his character, Leon, is indeed in his own little world--in a city of one, deliberately foreign among his neighbors. Placing his apartment shots in another country brilliantly underscores his separation, an artistic decision I'm utterly delighted by, although I never knew till tonight that it occurred.
I'm watching The Professional again tonight, my first free Tuesday in a long time. I see that Leon betrays tremendous loneliness when he is showering after the movie's initial hit job, but the rest of the time, he seems so utterly contained in the simplicity and routines of his life. He always buys 2 cartons of milk and drinks nothing else, wipes the leaves of his single houseplant each day (a houseplant, by the way, called an aglaonema, which is supposed to be difficult to kill--perfect for a hitman), does his daily batch of situps, and sleeps sitting up in his living room. His profession limits him in many ways but within limitations resides a certain peace. I'm not a professional killer, but I think I'd like to live like one.
IMDB also notes that
According to Patrice Ledoux, Luc Besson planned Léon as filler. At the time, he had already started working on The Fifth Element (1997), but production was delayed due to Bruce Willis's schedule. Rather than dismiss the production team and lose his creative momentum, Besson wrote Léon. It took him only 30 days to write the script, and the shoot lasted only 90 days. Ironically, Léon is now generally considered to be a far superior film to The Fifth Element.
How delightful! One of my favorite movies just sprang up as filler, without the writer/director really thinking about it. Love it.
As an aside, I'm amazed at how much Matilda's character reminds me of my daughter. Natalie Portman was 11 when she was cast for the role and my daughter has just turned 10. Matilda shares with my daughter a certain pluckiness, a fearlessness and certainty that she can handle anything. Also, they bluff in the same self-assured manner. I can see my daughter playing this role (she wants to be an actress, which horrifies me, but she has seemed remarkably good in the various plays she's been in).
I ran across a reference today to Betty Blue, a French movie I saw several years ago. I remember having no patience for the main character, a man who goes to ever greater extremes to accomodate his insane girlfriend. I think the idea is that she is schizophrenic. She eventually dies--suicide, I think. Which was a relief at that point for me and also possibly for the main character, Zorg. The movie appears to be a meditation on love and its attendant insanities, writ large. What would you do for the woman you love, etc., etc. Betty royally screws up everything for him, alienating everyone who can do him good, getting him fired, and forcing him to abruptly leave his pleasant seaside home to follow her crazy ass around. (At this point in time, I'm reminded of my ex-husband's girlfriend, who is bipolar and also alienates everyone around him, although not so much with her mental illness as with just being a freeloading, repugnant narcissist. ANYWAY.)
At any rate, the movie opens with Zorg making some sort of bean stew on the stove of his beach house. He makes his living as a handyman for the beachfront community. He's self-sufficient and seemingly self-contained, as epitomized by his quiet, nourishing meal at his kitchen table. Then Betty arrives on the scene and he doesn't get a good meal again until the end of the movie. After grieving for a while, he's back to cooking for himself again and seems to be renewed by eating his soup right out of the pot at his kitchen table. He has grief, loss, and a good meal and that seems like a good start for him.
As I'm trying to get back into my old-maid groove, which I was so happy in, once I got the hang of it, I'm hoping to achieve that eagerness he shows to regain himself and his peace as he spoons his self-made meal into his mouth.
Last night as I was breaking up with my boyfriend, I told him he was the best boyfriend I'd ever had. Which is true for the following reasons:
- As a fellow introvert, he never tried to take too much of my time or space. He never seemed needy.
- But if I wanted to spend a lot of time together, he was happy for that too. He never seemed crowded.
- If I was having a hard time, he responded with warmth and support.
- If I was celebrating a victory, he celebrated it too.
- When I asked for changes in a particular area, he responded immediately and creatively.
- He's not a fan of exercise but he'd go along with my fitness schemes anyway.
- Dude gave me a turntable for Valentine's Day. A TURNTABLE. And a beautiful chrome lime juicer for Christmas. He'd listened to me prattling on about various things I wanted/needed and responded with excellent gift choices.
- He has a sort of guerilla wit that strikes when you least expect it.
- He was always affectionate without being overwhelming.
- He showed in many ways that he cared for me deeply but was never mushy about it.
- Often when I arrived at his place, there'd be a healthy, tasty meal on the table with glass of wine. The awesomeness of this cannot be overstated.
- He is just a damn good man.
So what the hell? Why didn't I stay with him? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I never satisfied?
I don't know the answer to all those questions but I do know this: I'm tired. And I have so many things to do:
- work
- parenting
- girl scout troop leading
- far too much local family stuff
- pet care
- general household stuff of a single mom
- creating a new career so I won't be poor forever
- trying to scrape together every nickel I can because I lost a major source of income this spring and don't know when it will return
- becoming a better runner/swimmer/biker (sounds optional but my athletic pursuits feed my soul and level out my no-longer-medicated moods)
- spending time alone--any introvert can assure you that without enough solitude, it all breaks down.
I'd like to get out of some of these things. Leading my daughter's girl scout troop, for example, takes quite a bit of time but I'd already committed to it and cannot half-ass it. And I'm going to put a limit on activities with my family because since they have moved to town there's always something going on and I'm doing my best to keep up and try and be a good daughter and sister and aunt and mother and pet owner and citizen and friend and girlfriend but I just. can't. do. all. this. any. more.
I've gone long stretches without a romantic partner and come to view romance as optional. This man I was with is an excellent man but there was some indefinable connection we did not have that allowed me to continue to view romance as optional. Despite the lovely times we had, I kept getting this image of each of us having perfectly good USB ports but no cable linking them. I miss him already, but did not dare say "Can we still be friends?" because no one wants to hear that, ever. Do they?
But something had to give, something had to make way for me to spend more time alone, resting and recovering from the demands in my post-Prozac life (been off the Prozac pony since March, I think). I hope that soon I'll stop feeling like such an asshole for causing that delightful man pain. I hope he finds someone with a USB port AND a cable, and soon.
My new copy of Runners World has arrived and in its monthly column by John "The Penguin" Bingham (my kind of runner), he chats about messages on running shirts. For a photo shoot for a NYT story on running, he wore a shirt that proclaimed "I'm slow. I know. Get over it." (See, REALLY my kind of runner.) He describes some other shirts he's seen out on the road: "Will Run For Beer" (I happen to have this declaration on a sweat/headband) and "This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago." As Bingham notes, anyone who has trained for an endurance event has to smile when they see that. As much as I enjoy actually participating in half-marathons, I don't know that the actual participation is nearly as fun as seeing the brochure or magazine ad for an event, doing the quick calculations as to whether you'll have enough time to prepare for that distance, and making the decision to train for it. Setting that goal is nice rush.
Another shirt he describes says "On the seventh day God did an easy three." A non-runner wouldn't get that but I'm glad that I do. It means an easy three-mile run, which is the standard recovery or beginner distance and which I set out to do this morning. (Naturally, in preparation for my latest goal, the Run Austin Run half on October 11). (Which I've planned so that I will have attained a half's level of endurance by mid-October and can focus on increasing my speed, as I want to set a new PR at this year's Decker Challenge in December.)
Anyway, I'm happy that I get runner jokes. I'm glad that I've persisted in this running nonsense, despite my non-aerodynamic build and preternatural slowness. Most of the running community is made up of the bird people, the light-framed narrow-hipped folks zipping around me on the path. I'm one of the ox people: large, lumbering, and stubbornly moving ahead one plod at a time till the job is done. We're a much smaller group, but we have a place in the running community as well. Running doesn't come easy for us but we do it anyway and I think that kind of behavior is good for humans.
I'm learning bike humor as well, as I'm getting into triathlons. Yesterday I was volunteering at the packet stuffing session for a triathlon next weekend. Two lines of packet assemblers faced each other across a line of tables. At the end of the line, the gal across the table from me and I were completing the last step of packet assembly for handoff to the bag stuffers, trying to keep up with the assemblers ahead of us and keep the bag stuffers busy. She said "we need to go faster, huh? Or I guess I should say increase our cadence." I said "yeah, let's try to keep it at 90 a minute." We grinned at each other, getting the RPM joke that I would not have been able to make 6 months ago. Volunteering for this particular organization, Red Licorice Events, earns you points that you can use for discounts on their race entry fees. Which is nice. But more importantly, when I spend time stuffing packets or handing out water on a race course, I feel like I'm giving back to the endurance athlete community, and I'm grateful to be in this community, grateful that I have the health and strength to complete these events despite my lack of athletic talent and also that, with very few exceptions (I'm looking at you, RunTex), the community is so welcoming to both the bird AND the ox people.
As of now, 9:31 a.m., Yahoo Weather says that it is 80 degrees with 79% humidity. First I checked Google's weather, but it claims that the humidity is only 66%. I wasn't buying that; the air on the Town Lake trail at 7:30 this morning felt like a warm wet washcloth. So, despite my 13:13 pace (I was hoping to do 12:30 or maybe even 12:00), I have to feel triumphant for trucking along at all. No one was moving fast on the trail this morning, except for this one dude in a Brooks-Hansons singlet (in which case you better be running fast or risk being revealed as a poseur) and also a guy running in Vibram Five Fingers, which I really want to work toward myself. The heat and humidity, along with my lack of running this summer so far, kept my heart rate pretty high so it turned out to be more of a tempo run than an easy run but that's OK.
Next weekend: an easy 4-miler.
