November 24, 2001, 5:20 p.m.

Dinner didn't agree with me

back & forth

My new favorite movie that I've never seen:

L' Attaque de la moussaka g�ante
Panos Koutras, Gr�ce, 1999, 1h39, Dist. Ad Vitam. Avec Yiannis Aggelakis,Myriam Vourou, Christos Mantakas, Gregory Patrikareas.
"Apr�s L'attaque des tomates tueuses, le film catastrophe alimentaire est de retour. L'attaque de la moussaka g�ante est un hommage trash aux s�ries Z am�ricaines des ann�es cinquante. Dans cette com�die d�lirante, on peut croiser de sublimes cr�atures de l'espace l�g�rement v�tues, des scientifiques gays en blouse rose et des travestis ob�ses, sans oublier �videmment une moussaka vindicative de trente m�tres de haut. La moussaka est bien l�, grasse, colossale, d�goulinante d'aubergine, de cr�me et de viande hach�e. Elle glisse entre les rues d'Ath�nes avec la volupt� d'un hydroglisseur �gar�, au prix de trucages comiques tellement ils sont mauvais."

If you don't speak French [*haughty sniff* what are you doing reading my journal?], all you need to know on earth is contained in the title, which, as you feared, really does mean Attack of the giant moussaka.

Not only does it render hommage to my beloved "Attack of the killer tomatoes" (whose name is so much more mellifluous ... "tueuses" is such a ravishing word), but it's Greek, and I found it on a site for a French (and francophone) queer studies film festival. The cover art, from the film's distributor, is visible here. The film is also listed at the IMDb, just in case you wanted to order it. I'll make the popcorn.


Take the Affliction Test Today!

Dude, last night I was so high. I went to a party at the house of a friend of MG's from back in his prep-school days. MG somehow managed to be one of those breezy, popular boys, the kind who is elected class president or is asked to be best man at their WASP-esque arriviste Irish-American weddings. The whole crowd of them were not merely working for The Man, in various sorts of fell drudgerous offices, but were beginning to dress and talk like him. I stumbled in, fresh from my low-paying, physical, rewarding but unprestigious job, I felt almost smug. That night, I'd been talking with a co-worker about the novel he's writing. I can wear my hair any way I choose [one co-worker, for example, has her hair shaved and dyed to look like cheetah fur]. The pride swelled up inside me like an internal apocolocynthosis. I sat out on the porch with the "bad kids" and smoked up.

What surprised me was how old they all looked: MG's 25, which is, you know, the middle-age of youth. Respectable, but not decrepit. So, I would assume, were the majority of his classmates, however, they all somehow looked like they could be people's parents. I, who still am routinely carded for cigarettes (and once, about a year ago, for an NC-17 movie), felt I had to elbow myself a place at the kiddie table, with the younger siblings, slackers, and grad-students. Of course, they'd also been lifting weights and playing beer-pong, which rather dissipates the illusion. I can't tell if my uneasy fascination with respectable people who have well-paying jobs, mortgages, conservative haircuts, &c., comes more from disliking or envying it all.

Anyway, so I got all stupid, had a great conversation about Benjamin with this kid who [lucky bitch!] won a grant to go study Ol' Walther in Paris and Berlin. We'll just take my usual rant, about how everybody else in the world doing so much more interesting things than I'm doing, as read.

Props to KG, who is thinking of getting certified to teach middle school. And now I have to fix something to eat and think about putting clothes on that I didn't sleep in last night.