Radio City's a lot better than #1 Record, leaving behind the tinges of Zep-Foghat cheese for stunning dream-pop. Ah yes, entertainment on a friday night and all this talk of blood and iron is the cause of all my thinking but how can i sit and drink my tea with all this blood flowing from the television?



I just went walking up Mass Ave and bumped two former yale people within a half hour-45 minutes of eachother and wound up going to see The Motorcycle Diaries in the biotech-corporate outdoor mall that is Kendall Square with the latter, who is now a grad student at MIT, and a friend of hers. First time i've done anything social with anyone in quite a while, so that was nice. As for the movie itself, well, i'm conflicted. The cult of Che is a weird phenomenon. It seems to (attempt to) encapsulate all the complex interactions between the commodification of the revolutionary nationalisms of the old new left, polysemous constructions of transnational pan-latino cultures of a global urban migrant professional class, and unstable significations of an equally global specter of subaltern revolt. The film leans towards the former, with a heavy dose of messianic hagiography. The gender politics - well, let's not even go there. But the scenes with the migrant communist miners are interesting, the cinematography is beautiful, and Gael Garcia Bernal is both a great actor, and, uh, kind of hot. So i'm glad i saw it, and it was good to see Hanan.



Now i'm exhausted. And i have a conference call and client call practice tomorrow and i'm not excited about either. Actually, i'm pretty ticked off about both. Julie, you're wrong about troy, and you were wrong then, and for all its faults, we should have seen mean girls, and Alek never returns phone calls and i hope Noah's doin' well out in oregon. That's it for tonight, i guess.