The weather is turning. Yesterday was gorgeous, upper 50s with sun and breeze, but by this afternoon we’ll be back at 34 with sleet. This is springtime in Chicago. It will break your heart.

We were able to enjoy part of the day however; Andy is still verging on a cold, but in the afternoon we headed to Piper’s Alley to see “The Sea Inside” and then met Brandon for dinner at Las Pinatas. We introduced him to the World of Las Pinatas, of brusque waiters who mumble and enchanted margaritas. Tons of theatre gossip. I’d rather live vicariously and hear about it all than have to be part of that world myself. I like being on the edge of it.

The film was excellent, Javier Bardem was excellent. Amd the film walked the tricky line of dealing with euthanasia: compassion but not outright endorsement. My only quibble was with the score, and its frequency. Too often. Too cliched. Why do filmmakers feel the need to underscore every dramatic moment with plaintive flutes and violins? I call it the Empire of the Sun Syndrome: every time there arose a possibility for poignancy, Spielberg made sure to hammer it home with a crane shot and/or boys choir. Often, simple dramatic silence can be shattering. Less is more.

I wish I had some time to just sit with my notebook and take stock of things, just half an hour maybe to think out loud with pen and paper. Feeling a need to orient myself.