"They rejected the perfection. Entire crops were lost."
So we'll see how far we get here. Tony Hightower set up the cable I still pay 134 for today, and he did that a short time before Keyspan, formerly BUG, imploded the twin Greenpoint gas towers and those idiot paradise-seekers imploded the World Trade Towers, and as the second group of ruptured towers fell I was hooked back on tv, blessed in that the cable had not been severed. The alternative would have been no cable, no more hightower antenna, no more reception tv until, maybe, now when it is again possible to trade cable for rabbit ears.
Cable also gives us roadrunner internet connection which Tony needed. Tony was unemployed at the time, so that's how this apartment got cable. What I mean is, getting cable is a job. Much has changed in these years since, but I still have the overblown cable which means, while not seeing the whole thing, I can rewatch sizeable chunks of the Matrix Reloaded.
My sequel is The Matrix Rewritten, and in that I'll show what persistence achieves on a shoestring. Those brothers did, too, with Gina Gershon in Bound. I forgot that but thanks to quick internet, I looked up "matrix," with the internet movie database, the only website for film info I can think of off the top of my head, obviously introduced to me by Mr. Hightower, my actions being a function of info received.
By the way, my most recent selfquote of any personal resonance is simply, and I finger-wrote it in an arbitrary date page of my visor while listening to the beautiful NY Composer's Circle music at the 2nd Presbyterian Church,
"My writing is so crazy that I am in effect not a real person."
I read The New Yorker Magazine's Nellie McKay review. To summarize, 'cause my copy's gone now, she's playing the crazy card... Her anger's a generous muse... That brings me to my stingy safe-haven entrapment. Come appreciate my wealth of creative work, let it empower you. Alas, I'm too much in the way, having fun. What a mess, and I have so much talent, so much to offer...
These brothers made films. I would call them major cinema achievements. Yet my search, my surf, my safe-search-off search, stopped at the left-his-wife-for-a-dominatrix-and-explored-his-feminine side tattling. Oh.
Is a Matrix Reconciliation around the corner? Maybe the Ilsa exploration will be fruitful for all. Say, who's getting hungry for another bite of forbidden fruit?
Ah, the brothers are 7 to 9 years younger than I am.
Mr. Hightower's blogger is accessible at NervousNero.com.
Now back to the paradox at hand. Oh, it's late...