Monday 8th December
I cracked open my piggy bank this morning to see how much I've saved
the past year so that I can hold my head up and kick like a Christian
toward the Lord of the Rings syndicate for its final chapter. After
emptying my pockets of their change every night, and duly feeding the
pig's back, it turns out I've only got $175 to give. Paltry, really.
Embarrassing. After the obligatory six theater viewings this winter
alongside the Ramen noodle-breathed/living-in-mom's-basement-ed crowds,
plus snacks, add in the ancillary costs of the odd flask of The Precious
Fluid, THEN the purchase of the dummy DVD in the summer and THEN the
five-hour "director's cut and making-of" DVD next fall, and THEN the boxed
set of the whole trilogy on DVD the following year, and THEN, finally, the
boxed set of the "director's cut and making-of" the whole trilogy on DVD,
I'll have just barely enough to be one of the drooling dogs that will push
these three movies into the $4b range. I'm not complaining, though. It's
still cheaper than church.
Tuesday 9th December
Gwyneth hasn't told Chris about us yet. I fear an imminent asunder-
putting. In an unrelated matter, a reader chided me today for using
the word "rebarbative" in a diary entry. It sounds like a lot of
bumfluffery to me.