I like you, but you're crazy
I watched No Country For Old Men last night, hadn’t seen it before. And I haven’t thought about it all that much yet.
But I keep thinking of a friend of mine, a man from Colombia named Berleine. One time last year we were talking about politics or racism, something frustrating, and he was trying to illustrate that “people are crazy.” So he told me a story he’d read in the paper that week about a man in Florida that had murdered his wife while they were on vacation so he could cash in the life insurance. People are crazy! I remember that I appreciated that this story affected him. It reminds me of Tommy Lee Jones last night, reading the newspaper story about the maniacs killing the elderly and then running around naked with dog collars on. Tommy Lee Jones had the same look on his face that Berleine had.
The sentiment in the title itself is one that resonates. And I don’t tend to watch movies through a… gender lens (anymore, anyways, since graduation) but when the movie ended last night I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t meant for me.
I want my version of No Country For Old Men.
I heard a version of The Tide is High today in some weirdo hipster cafe. (Incidentally, I think it’s crazy easy to open a cafe in this city and find success. All you have to do is pander to them. You know, play The Velvet Underground a few times a day and spend zero money on furniture. Just pull it in off a curb.) I couldn’t figure out who it was by but it wasn’t the original and it wasn’t Blondie. The lyrics were different than when Blondie does it (ie “every man wants you to be his girl”) and it was jarring and it sounded wrong.
I’m so glad Debbie Harry’s around. She didn’t just borrow those words, she right out stole them. Who’s going to steal No Country For Old Men? Change a few words around?
