July 19, 1998

It came to my attention that this page hasn’t been updated in a while (six days to be exact), so while I’m watching “Walker, Texas Ranger” I’ll write a new thought during the commercials.
First, I’ve changed the graphic on my entry page [this refers to the original blog this was posted on]. I know most of you don’t have that page bookmarked, so just click on the link up there. You may want to bookmark it now, as I’ll be changing the graphics regularly from now on.
Earlier tonight, I watched Good Will Hunting again. I remember back when I first saw it in theaters . . . (que harp-strum music and visual-ripple effect). I was going out with Becky. I’m not sure when this was in our relationship, thinking back, almost the entire relationship seems close to the end. Go figure. Anyway, I remember she cried at the part where Will Hunting tells Skylar that he doesn’t love her. Of course, living up to my heartless bastard reputation, I didn’t cry. Personally, I don’t think that’s the saddest part of the movie, though. The saddest part, to me, is when the character played by Ben Affleck goes to Matt Damon’s door and no one answers. Will Hunting just left town without telling his best friend. Now, I know this was expected from the foreshadowing earlier in the movie, but, dammit, that’s still the saddest part. More of a bitter happiness, actually.
After renting Good Will Hunting earlier today, I stopped by a used and rare bookstore that I’ve only been to one time before. Both times I’ve been in search of what I consider classical literature. The first time I was on a quest for Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Of course, it was nowhere to be found in town, not even at the chain bookstores. But, of course, TGOW, was there today. There may have even been two copies. But I don’t hold a grudge. Today I was hunting a copy of Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s or just about any book by Thompson, Hemingway or Fitzgerald. I did find an old copy of Fitzgerald’s Tender Is The Night, but I didn’t purchase it. I don’t know why. Anyway, I didn’t find anything worth laying my cold hard cash down on, so I went over to Hastings and found Hunter S. Thompson’s Generation of Swine and purchased it. Did surprise me, though, that this was the only copy of this book and the only other Thompson work there save three copies of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It’s refreshing to read about tattooings and politicians after reading Thomas Merton’s Love and Living lately.
I’d also like to thank the poor British lady that works at the Hollywood Video in Harker Heights where I usually rent videos. She seems to always be there whenever I rent movies. So, I’d like to thank her for her hard work, long hours, and ability to find obscure titles like Woody Allen’s Deconstructing Harry. Yes, the sarcasm about the film was intended.
Most awaited film: Saving Private Ryan.

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