Maybe I’m not eating enough, maybe I’m just eating the wrong stuff. Like cake. Because I was holding a plate of cake earlier, and my arms shook with weakness, unable to hold up the medium-sized cake slice. Am I dying? I gobbled down the cake before my trembling hands dropped my Fiesta plate.

My laundry had been sitting on top of an ant infestation I did not become aware of until I arrived at the laundromat. Halfway into “the SpinZone” I realized ants were crawling all over me, and they were filing out of the full hamper clutched to my chest. I tossed the laundry teeming with life into the laundry and power-rinsed the mother fuckers.



"Jacques Tati’s "Playtime," like "2001: A Space Odyssey" or "The Blair Witch Project" or "Russian Ark," is one of a kind, complete in itself, a species already extinct at the moment of its birth. Even Mr. Hulot, Tati’s alter ego, seems to be wandering through it by accident. Instead of plot it has a cascade of incidents, instead of central characters it has a cast of hundreds, instead of being a comedy it is a wondrous act of observation. It occupies no genre and does not create a new one. It is a filmmaker showing us how his mind processes the world around him. .."
- Roger Ebert -