17 October 2002 - 5:06 p.m.

Holy crap am I tired of writing this essay.

The upside of being at grad school, and pretty much by myself a lot of the time, is that I can get a lot of writing done.

The downside is that I spend so much time alone that I am fucking bored with myself. I don't want to write a damn personal essay. My entire life is a personal essay. In my internal monologue, I reflect on what I'm doing, relate that to something I saw in some movie somewhere, and throw in a couple of Cole Porter quotes.

Good thing I don't have an Internet diary. All that navel gazing might cause me to make a hole in a nearby body of water.

So, I will turn my attention back to Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft. Inkwell pointed out in my guestbook that the art/love quandary can go both ways. And rightly so. But since Mel Brooks has publicly declared his disbelief at being married to Anne Bancroft (is it Anne or Ann? Anyone?), I gravitated to that side of the argument.

But on thinking their careers over, I must admit that on his best day, Mel Brooks is brilliant; on his worst, he is not funny. And since Anne Bancroft is never funny, Mel might certainly wake up in the middle of the night with just that in mind.

Can't you just imagine Mel Brooks waking up in the middle of the night, shaking Anne Bancroft awake, and crying out, "Anne! Baby! You are NEVER funny!"

To which she would reply with nothing but a withering glance. I will be the first to admit that Anne Bancroft would not have a career without the aid of that withering glance. But I admire her and her glance nonetheless.

As does Mel Brooks, apparently, because does he protest the withering glance? Does he pick up and leave, or ask Anne Bancroft to sleep on the couch?

No. And I bet it's not even because Anne Bancroft would be really scary if you kicked her out of bed. But I think Mel Brooks would be really scary naked. So it all seems to work out, in one way or another.

Maybe I should just write an essay about that.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: