Wow.
Death really puts a damper on things.
And yet, I awoke to to sun on my face
and the fine, white hyacinth shoes of spring
left under my lone pear tree.
There is still so much to celebrate,
in spite of loss, love remains.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll feel more like writing -
till then,
let the poets do the work:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,
with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world.
-from Natural Resources
Adrienne Rich
Today I was given a little book to borrow -
The Hidden Messages in Water by Masaru Emoto
It is touching and fascinating, and a good thing to swallow up right now.
bs
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
The father of my friend C.
Ned, fine husband
magnificent father and friend,
died last night at the age of 76.
He leaves behind his wife of 58 years,
his daughter, who at 54 has never gone a week without speaking to him,
and a sea of friends and loved ones now bereft of his welcoming shore.
I will miss his stories, his rough Scottish brouge,
and the way I loved being just who I was
whenever I spent time with him.
Until we meet again, Ned
God Bless us for there's none like us.
bs
magnificent father and friend,
died last night at the age of 76.
He leaves behind his wife of 58 years,
his daughter, who at 54 has never gone a week without speaking to him,
and a sea of friends and loved ones now bereft of his welcoming shore.
I will miss his stories, his rough Scottish brouge,
and the way I loved being just who I was
whenever I spent time with him.
Until we meet again, Ned
God Bless us for there's none like us.
bs
Monday, March 27, 2006
A charaid, mar sin leibh an-dràsda
Rest now, Ned
You pure and generous soul.
You absolute prince among men.
For All the Sad Rain
O my friends why are we so weak
In winter sunlight why do our knees knock,
Why do we walk with small steps, ugly
And spindly as baby birds
Whose world do we think this is?
O my friends take it,
O my friends don’t look at each other
Or anyone else before you speak.
I have had enough of scared field mice
With trembling pink ears,
I have had enough of damp
Diffident handshakes,
Do you think I haven’t been stepped on by giants?
Do you think my teachers didn’t stand me in a corner
For breathing, do you think my own father didn’t burn me
With the wrath of a blast furnace for wanting to sit on his knee?
Indeed I have been pressed between steamrollers,
I have had both my feet cut off, and the pancreas
And the liver and the lungs of the one I love
Have been sucked out of my life and the air around me
Has turned to cereal, how will I stand up,
What opinions can I offer but I will not be silent,
There are dogs who keep their skinny tails
Permanently between their legs
But also there are sleek horses, as easily as there are curs
There are squash blossoms that flower around fountains
Like white butterflies, there is courage everywhere,
For every reluctant nail-biter
There are a hundred raised fists, for every broken broomstick
There are millions of bent grasses snapping
Back and forth at the sky, beating the blue carpet
As hard as they can, with the frail tassels of their hair
For every pair of eyes squeezed tight
Under colorless lids there are thousands of others
Wide-open, on the proud columns of their necks turning,
Observing everything like King Radar,
O my friends for all the sad rain in heaven
Filling our dinner plates you have ten fingers of honey
Which are your own, stretch them, stick them up
And then wave to me, put your arms around each other’s shoulders
When we meet in a field with no fences
The horizon is yours, and the books and all the opinions
And the water which is wine and the best bed
You can possibly think to lie in.
- Patricia Goedicke
You pure and generous soul.
You absolute prince among men.
For All the Sad Rain
O my friends why are we so weak
In winter sunlight why do our knees knock,
Why do we walk with small steps, ugly
And spindly as baby birds
Whose world do we think this is?
O my friends take it,
O my friends don’t look at each other
Or anyone else before you speak.
I have had enough of scared field mice
With trembling pink ears,
I have had enough of damp
Diffident handshakes,
Do you think I haven’t been stepped on by giants?
Do you think my teachers didn’t stand me in a corner
For breathing, do you think my own father didn’t burn me
With the wrath of a blast furnace for wanting to sit on his knee?
Indeed I have been pressed between steamrollers,
I have had both my feet cut off, and the pancreas
And the liver and the lungs of the one I love
Have been sucked out of my life and the air around me
Has turned to cereal, how will I stand up,
What opinions can I offer but I will not be silent,
There are dogs who keep their skinny tails
Permanently between their legs
But also there are sleek horses, as easily as there are curs
There are squash blossoms that flower around fountains
Like white butterflies, there is courage everywhere,
For every reluctant nail-biter
There are a hundred raised fists, for every broken broomstick
There are millions of bent grasses snapping
Back and forth at the sky, beating the blue carpet
As hard as they can, with the frail tassels of their hair
For every pair of eyes squeezed tight
Under colorless lids there are thousands of others
Wide-open, on the proud columns of their necks turning,
Observing everything like King Radar,
O my friends for all the sad rain in heaven
Filling our dinner plates you have ten fingers of honey
Which are your own, stretch them, stick them up
And then wave to me, put your arms around each other’s shoulders
When we meet in a field with no fences
The horizon is yours, and the books and all the opinions
And the water which is wine and the best bed
You can possibly think to lie in.
- Patricia Goedicke
Monday, March 20, 2006
The Vulgarians
Bonnie and Clyde was on HBO yesterday - still a pretty good movie, 39 years later.
I only saw the end, when the law brings them down in a hailstorm of lead.
The vintage clothing, the bullets and the blood suddenly brought to mind my youth,
and the years when the Vulgarians lived next door.
Actually, they were the Rs - a doctor, his wife and their 4 blonde kids,
but we called them the Vs because that's what they were.
Where I grew up, most families still had dinner together almost every night.
At my own house, there were rules; beds got made, dirty stuff got washed
and sex was a secret (not a verb).
And while I would discover a great deal between then and now,
at the time we seemed 'normal', functional - intact.
Which our neighbors absolutely did not.
Their huge house was cluttered and filthy most of the time.
They walked around naked with no curtains on their windows
while the kids drank vodka and ate from the fridge with their hands.
The doctor was a little man - little beard, little glasses, little hands.
His wife was big; a blowsy blonde - and unless she was cooking,
she spent her time in bed.
In a small farming town, in 1969, these people stood out,
and their presence was a nightmare for parents like mine.
Over at the V's adults slapped each other, and often hit the
kids no matter who was there to see.
They had a 'conversation pit', a free standing wood stove shaped like a saucer,
and books like I Am Curious Yellow in their living room.
I had my first drink there, and saw my first naked man
(and naked woman - together).
I watched people pass out drunk, smoke pot and inject drugs,
wipe their snot on the walls and pee in the bathtub because they could.
For Easter, they made eggs that said "fuck" and "Cum on daddy"
and instead of mowing their field, they set it on fire while their horses
went crazy runnning through the smoke and flames.
They got a dog one winter, by spring she'd had 8 puppies.
Dr. V made them stay in the garage, where he ran over two of them
while rushing off to work.
He never slowed down, just called from his office later
with instructions for his son: "Clean up that mess and while you're at it,
take the the rest of those bastards and bury them out in the field."
It was the first time I ever saw a boy cry.
People talked about the Vs (and talked a lot), but they were forbearing;
at least until the spring of the Bonnie and Clyde extravaganza.
It was a dress-up party, "Come as a gangster and BYOB."
For atmosphere, Dr. V got an old Ford coupe towed out from town,
and left it half-slid off the drive in front of their house.
Somebody made dummies that looked like Bonnie and Clyde,
dumping him just outside the car, and slumping her over behind the wheel.
Just before the party, when everything was in place, Dr. V went to his garage
and came back with a rifle.
He turned toward the car, and without a word, just started blazing away.
He shot up the car, the windshield, the tires - he even shot Bonnie and Clyde.
Then he brought out the bags of blood he'd taken from the hospital and
splattered that everywhere.
All us kids were beside ourselves, this was extreme insanity!
This was theft and gunfire and blood for God's sake - in our town, in our own back yard!
Not long after that the party started, by dark it was in overdrive.
It ballooned from their living room into the night, (which I only got to hear about,
since the kids all got shipped to the drive in).
Music and shouting and clothes coming off, drunks running wild
through the alkali-covered sagebrush fields,
and doing unspeakable things.
It was legendary stuff for Cowtown, USA.
By summer, Dr. V had lost his hospital privileges,
all that blood was a major mistake -
Mrs. V and the kids disappeared.
Sometime near Christmas, a new wife showed up,
younger and stranger than the first.But after her second arrest
(for running down the highway half-naked and tripping on acid),
the house went on the market and eventually sold to a middle-aged couple
who taught English and raised dogs.
I had all but forgotten the Vs until today - it's sad how legends fade....
You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
If you’re still in need of something to read
Here’s the story of Bonnie and Clyde....
From heartbreak some people have suffered
From weariness some people have died
But all in all, our troubles are small
'Til we get like Bonnie and Clyde.....
bs
I only saw the end, when the law brings them down in a hailstorm of lead.
The vintage clothing, the bullets and the blood suddenly brought to mind my youth,
and the years when the Vulgarians lived next door.
Actually, they were the Rs - a doctor, his wife and their 4 blonde kids,
but we called them the Vs because that's what they were.
Where I grew up, most families still had dinner together almost every night.
At my own house, there were rules; beds got made, dirty stuff got washed
and sex was a secret (not a verb).
And while I would discover a great deal between then and now,
at the time we seemed 'normal', functional - intact.
Which our neighbors absolutely did not.
Their huge house was cluttered and filthy most of the time.
They walked around naked with no curtains on their windows
while the kids drank vodka and ate from the fridge with their hands.
The doctor was a little man - little beard, little glasses, little hands.
His wife was big; a blowsy blonde - and unless she was cooking,
she spent her time in bed.
In a small farming town, in 1969, these people stood out,
and their presence was a nightmare for parents like mine.
Over at the V's adults slapped each other, and often hit the
kids no matter who was there to see.
They had a 'conversation pit', a free standing wood stove shaped like a saucer,
and books like I Am Curious Yellow in their living room.
I had my first drink there, and saw my first naked man
(and naked woman - together).
I watched people pass out drunk, smoke pot and inject drugs,
wipe their snot on the walls and pee in the bathtub because they could.
For Easter, they made eggs that said "fuck" and "Cum on daddy"
and instead of mowing their field, they set it on fire while their horses
went crazy runnning through the smoke and flames.
They got a dog one winter, by spring she'd had 8 puppies.
Dr. V made them stay in the garage, where he ran over two of them
while rushing off to work.
He never slowed down, just called from his office later
with instructions for his son: "Clean up that mess and while you're at it,
take the the rest of those bastards and bury them out in the field."
It was the first time I ever saw a boy cry.
People talked about the Vs (and talked a lot), but they were forbearing;
at least until the spring of the Bonnie and Clyde extravaganza.
It was a dress-up party, "Come as a gangster and BYOB."
For atmosphere, Dr. V got an old Ford coupe towed out from town,
and left it half-slid off the drive in front of their house.
Somebody made dummies that looked like Bonnie and Clyde,
dumping him just outside the car, and slumping her over behind the wheel.
Just before the party, when everything was in place, Dr. V went to his garage
and came back with a rifle.
He turned toward the car, and without a word, just started blazing away.
He shot up the car, the windshield, the tires - he even shot Bonnie and Clyde.
Then he brought out the bags of blood he'd taken from the hospital and
splattered that everywhere.
All us kids were beside ourselves, this was extreme insanity!
This was theft and gunfire and blood for God's sake - in our town, in our own back yard!
Not long after that the party started, by dark it was in overdrive.
It ballooned from their living room into the night, (which I only got to hear about,
since the kids all got shipped to the drive in).
Music and shouting and clothes coming off, drunks running wild
through the alkali-covered sagebrush fields,
and doing unspeakable things.
It was legendary stuff for Cowtown, USA.
By summer, Dr. V had lost his hospital privileges,
all that blood was a major mistake -
Mrs. V and the kids disappeared.
Sometime near Christmas, a new wife showed up,
younger and stranger than the first.But after her second arrest
(for running down the highway half-naked and tripping on acid),
the house went on the market and eventually sold to a middle-aged couple
who taught English and raised dogs.
I had all but forgotten the Vs until today - it's sad how legends fade....
You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
If you’re still in need of something to read
Here’s the story of Bonnie and Clyde....
From heartbreak some people have suffered
From weariness some people have died
But all in all, our troubles are small
'Til we get like Bonnie and Clyde.....
bs
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Everything must go
For the past 2 days, I've been helping my friend J. get ready for her
post-divorce/pre-moving garage sale.... and listening as my old friend C.
struggles to accept that her father will be dead by June.
Meanwhile, the weather continues to be erratic: some sun, some rain -
then wind and gloom, followed by a sudden 50 degree afternoon.
Change - it's everywhere.
J. says she feels okay about it all: the divorce, the sale, the move,
and I think she mostly does. But it has been bittersweet,
watching her untangle herself from her husband of 19 years.
C. says she's ready, she sees the writing on the wall -
but there will be no untangling herself from what comes next.
What to keep, what to let go of - if only those questions were less painful to ask.
Or easier to answer.
In my free time, I keep cleaning out my closets;
some literal,
some figurative,
all too full of what I cannot keep.
In the end, everything must go.
We all know that,
it's just easier to live as if we don't.
bs
post-divorce/pre-moving garage sale.... and listening as my old friend C.
struggles to accept that her father will be dead by June.
Meanwhile, the weather continues to be erratic: some sun, some rain -
then wind and gloom, followed by a sudden 50 degree afternoon.
Change - it's everywhere.
J. says she feels okay about it all: the divorce, the sale, the move,
and I think she mostly does. But it has been bittersweet,
watching her untangle herself from her husband of 19 years.
C. says she's ready, she sees the writing on the wall -
but there will be no untangling herself from what comes next.
What to keep, what to let go of - if only those questions were less painful to ask.
Or easier to answer.
In my free time, I keep cleaning out my closets;
some literal,
some figurative,
all too full of what I cannot keep.
In the end, everything must go.
We all know that,
it's just easier to live as if we don't.
bs
Monday, March 13, 2006
Wicked heavy
Finally - the Sopranos are back in town, opening with H.L. Mencken and sliding straight into
an excerpt from
William Burroughs' "The Western Lands".
That, my friends is heavy; wicked heavy.
I keep thinking about the Burroughs' monologue - his eerie, worn-out voice droning about death as the major players give us a peek at where they've been for the past 2 years - and I know he was singing us a road map of the final 18 months there in Jersey.
I realize that it's "only television" - but I am thrilled to be caught up and held captive by such literate and compelling writing and acting.
(And it certainly helps with the oily stain that American Idol is leaving in my mind...)
Mayhem, murder, corruption and greed: finally the real stuff that Sundays were made for!
Aside from the shivery excitement of season 6, not much has been happening here in the land
that time forgot. Springtime is struggling to turn that final corner, and I don't think it can happen soon enough. We need some light and some heat and we need it now.
bs
an excerpt from
William Burroughs' "The Western Lands".That, my friends is heavy; wicked heavy.
I keep thinking about the Burroughs' monologue - his eerie, worn-out voice droning about death as the major players give us a peek at where they've been for the past 2 years - and I know he was singing us a road map of the final 18 months there in Jersey.
I realize that it's "only television" - but I am thrilled to be caught up and held captive by such literate and compelling writing and acting.
(And it certainly helps with the oily stain that American Idol is leaving in my mind...)
Mayhem, murder, corruption and greed: finally the real stuff that Sundays were made for!
Aside from the shivery excitement of season 6, not much has been happening here in the land
that time forgot. Springtime is struggling to turn that final corner, and I don't think it can happen soon enough. We need some light and some heat and we need it now.
bs
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Sick
Headache from the depths of hell.
Gastric distress.
Body aches.
And all of this on the eve of my first ever real-time,
HBO-in-da-house Sopranos episode...
At this rate I'll be lucky to be up and dressed -
and forget about my hair and make-up.
What if Tony looks out of the t.v and sees me?
I'll never be a mafia wife now.
bs
Gastric distress.
Body aches.
And all of this on the eve of my first ever real-time,
HBO-in-da-house Sopranos episode...
At this rate I'll be lucky to be up and dressed -
and forget about my hair and make-up.
What if Tony looks out of the t.v and sees me?
I'll never be a mafia wife now.
bs
Monday, March 06, 2006
"Mom, where did all the classy people go?"
Oscar night has come and gone, and the world continues to turn.
I was really looking forward to it, as I have every year since I was a kid -
but somehow, the magic just wasn't there for me last night.
Maybe it was all those flesh-colored gowns, draped across all that flesh-colored flesh...
or the endless thanking of bankers and lawyers and agents and corporations...
Perhaps I looked into the future and saw Oprah's best friend Gail,
(dressed like a movie-star and interviewing movie stars
for Oprah's EXCLUSIVE INSIDE post-Oscar movie-star autopsy show),
and became so annoyed by how much Gail sounded like Oprah sounding like Maya Angelou
that I was rendered incapable of ever enjoying anything, ever again.
Or... maybe the magic died when I read this:
"According to the Seattle Times, the company Distinctive Assets partnered with Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas to offer a $45,000 gift bag for the non-winning nominees of the six major categories (picture, director, actor, actress, supporting actor/actress).
And if you win an Oscar? Good heavens! Some place the value of the winner's bags in excess of $110,000, which encompasses "...a $10,000 gift certificate to any Exclusive Resorts location, a Revlon Red Carpet Bag stuffed with beautifying tools tagged at $2,500, products from the new Los Angeles-based unisex skin-care line GINGI, an HDTV package from VOOM and Samsung, black pearl jewelry and $12,000 worth of lingerie, fragrances and accessories from Victoria's Secret."
From the Daily Trojan Online/student newspaper of So.Cal.
I mean - really?
The idea of that much ridiculous bling being tossed at people
already too stuffed to jump just roasts my ass.
After the montage of film noir clips, when my daughter asked me
about the 'classy people' - I told her they all died.
Such bitterness toward the stars is unbecoming, I know;
I'll have to work on that.
Overheard on my trip into town today:
"Dude! my whole fuckin' childhood was like the one fuckin' guy
in a fuckin' jungle of fuckin' women, dude." - phillips 66 gas statio
"Which would mean ME driving someone else's car for about 20 minutes,
and she would hafta give me head all night long for me to agree to that." - grocery store
"whattya want?" - coffee stand
Where did all the classy people go?
bs
Oh - important news flash:
I, Brown Shoes, will be joining the magical realm
of those who can watch The Sopranos in real time!
Every other year, I have watched them weeks after they actually aired.
My friend C.'s parents in L.A. would tape them, send them to C. -
who would watch them and then pass them on to me.
It was actually kind of cool - the parents were into it, and every epsiode
was that much more exciting because it had been imported...
But, in the centuries between now and when the Sopranos were last on,
VHS has practically become a thing of the past; I don't even know if my machine
works anymore. And more importantly, one of the parents has fallen ill,
which puts exporting thugs and godfathers onto the way-back burner.
So - I guess I am going to crawl toward the 21st century by getting HBO
for the first time. Maybe I'll go stark raving modern and get TIVO while I'm at it.
Wish me luck.
I was really looking forward to it, as I have every year since I was a kid -
but somehow, the magic just wasn't there for me last night.
Maybe it was all those flesh-colored gowns, draped across all that flesh-colored flesh...
or the endless thanking of bankers and lawyers and agents and corporations...
Perhaps I looked into the future and saw Oprah's best friend Gail,
(dressed like a movie-star and interviewing movie stars
for Oprah's EXCLUSIVE INSIDE post-Oscar movie-star autopsy show),
and became so annoyed by how much Gail sounded like Oprah sounding like Maya Angelou
that I was rendered incapable of ever enjoying anything, ever again.
Or... maybe the magic died when I read this:
"According to the Seattle Times, the company Distinctive Assets partnered with Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas to offer a $45,000 gift bag for the non-winning nominees of the six major categories (picture, director, actor, actress, supporting actor/actress).
And if you win an Oscar? Good heavens! Some place the value of the winner's bags in excess of $110,000, which encompasses "...a $10,000 gift certificate to any Exclusive Resorts location, a Revlon Red Carpet Bag stuffed with beautifying tools tagged at $2,500, products from the new Los Angeles-based unisex skin-care line GINGI, an HDTV package from VOOM and Samsung, black pearl jewelry and $12,000 worth of lingerie, fragrances and accessories from Victoria's Secret."
From the Daily Trojan Online/student newspaper of So.Cal.
I mean - really?
The idea of that much ridiculous bling being tossed at people
already too stuffed to jump just roasts my ass.
After the montage of film noir clips, when my daughter asked me
about the 'classy people' - I told her they all died.
Such bitterness toward the stars is unbecoming, I know;
I'll have to work on that.
Overheard on my trip into town today:
"Dude! my whole fuckin' childhood was like the one fuckin' guy
in a fuckin' jungle of fuckin' women, dude." - phillips 66 gas statio
"Which would mean ME driving someone else's car for about 20 minutes,
and she would hafta give me head all night long for me to agree to that." - grocery store
"whattya want?" - coffee stand
Where did all the classy people go?
bs
Oh - important news flash:
I, Brown Shoes, will be joining the magical realm
of those who can watch The Sopranos in real time!
Every other year, I have watched them weeks after they actually aired.
My friend C.'s parents in L.A. would tape them, send them to C. -
who would watch them and then pass them on to me.
It was actually kind of cool - the parents were into it, and every epsiode
was that much more exciting because it had been imported...
But, in the centuries between now and when the Sopranos were last on,
VHS has practically become a thing of the past; I don't even know if my machine
works anymore. And more importantly, one of the parents has fallen ill,
which puts exporting thugs and godfathers onto the way-back burner.
So - I guess I am going to crawl toward the 21st century by getting HBO
for the first time. Maybe I'll go stark raving modern and get TIVO while I'm at it.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Notes from Friday
People of the Northwest...why all the ugly hats?
The sun appears after weeks of rain and you all get chapeau méchant fever.
Cable knit ballcaps with bills: just say no.
That plaid Gilligan job I saw at the Post Office: hat of the living dead.
American-flag-do-rags on white guys: please don't.
Pith helmet? Pith off.
And the worst offender - the ubiquitous condom-top, complete with reservoir tip.
(insert obvious next line here)
Spring cannot get here soon enough.
Sunday is Academy Award night - when I burn up the phone lines with
cruel, yet witty comments on the beautiful people.
Below are my votes and predictions for this year.
Picture:
“Brokeback Mountain” my prediction
“Capote”
“Crash” – my vote
“Good Night, and Good Luck”
“Munich”
Actor
Philip Seymour Hoffman, “Capote”
Terrence Howard, “Hustle & Flow”
Heath Ledger, “Brokeback Mountain” – my vote/my prediction
Joaquin Phoenix, “Walk the Line”
David Strathairn, “Good Night, and Good Luck.”
Actress
Judi Dench, “Mrs. Henderson Presents”
Felicity Huffman, “Transamerica” - my vote
Keira Knightley, “Pride & Prejudice”
Charlize Theron, “North Country”
Reese Witherspoon, “Walk the Line” – my prediction
Supporting actor
George Clooney, “Syriana”
Matt Dillon, “Crash” – my vote/my prediction
Paul Giamatti, “Cinderella Man”
Jake Gyllenhaal, “Brokeback Mountain”
William Hurt, “A History of Violence”
Supporting actress
Amy Adams, “Junebug”
Catherine Keener, “Capote”
Frances McDormand, “North Country”
Rachel Weisz, “The Constant Gardener”
Michelle Williams, “Brokeback Mountain – my vote/my prediction
Director
Ang Lee, “Brokeback Mountain” – my vote/my prediction
Bennett Miller, “Capote”
Paul Haggis, “Crash”
George Clooney, “Good Night, and Good Luck”
Steven Spielberg, “Munich”
Foreign film
“Don’t Tell,” Italy
“Joyeux Noel,” France
“Paradise Now,” Palestine
“Sophie Scholl — The Final Days,” Germany
“Tsotsi,” South Africa. – my vote/my prediction
Documentary – Murderball my vote/my prediction
(a tremendous film, by the way.)
bs
The sun appears after weeks of rain and you all get chapeau méchant fever.
Cable knit ballcaps with bills: just say no.
That plaid Gilligan job I saw at the Post Office: hat of the living dead.
American-flag-do-rags on white guys: please don't.
Pith helmet? Pith off.
And the worst offender - the ubiquitous condom-top, complete with reservoir tip.
(insert obvious next line here)
Spring cannot get here soon enough.
Sunday is Academy Award night - when I burn up the phone lines with
cruel, yet witty comments on the beautiful people.
Below are my votes and predictions for this year.
Picture:
“Brokeback Mountain” my prediction
“Capote”
“Crash” – my vote
“Good Night, and Good Luck”
“Munich”
Actor
Philip Seymour Hoffman, “Capote”
Terrence Howard, “Hustle & Flow”
Heath Ledger, “Brokeback Mountain” – my vote/my prediction
Joaquin Phoenix, “Walk the Line”
David Strathairn, “Good Night, and Good Luck.”
Actress
Judi Dench, “Mrs. Henderson Presents”
Felicity Huffman, “Transamerica” - my vote
Keira Knightley, “Pride & Prejudice”
Charlize Theron, “North Country”
Reese Witherspoon, “Walk the Line” – my prediction
Supporting actor
George Clooney, “Syriana”
Matt Dillon, “Crash” – my vote/my prediction
Paul Giamatti, “Cinderella Man”
Jake Gyllenhaal, “Brokeback Mountain”
William Hurt, “A History of Violence”
Supporting actress
Amy Adams, “Junebug”
Catherine Keener, “Capote”
Frances McDormand, “North Country”
Rachel Weisz, “The Constant Gardener”
Michelle Williams, “Brokeback Mountain – my vote/my prediction
Director
Ang Lee, “Brokeback Mountain” – my vote/my prediction
Bennett Miller, “Capote”
Paul Haggis, “Crash”
George Clooney, “Good Night, and Good Luck”
Steven Spielberg, “Munich”
Foreign film
“Don’t Tell,” Italy
“Joyeux Noel,” France
“Paradise Now,” Palestine
“Sophie Scholl — The Final Days,” Germany
“Tsotsi,” South Africa. – my vote/my prediction
Documentary – Murderball my vote/my prediction
(a tremendous film, by the way.)
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