Chloe & yard work

I finally got my ass out of my chair and went to a movie this weekend. "Chloe" didn't get rated very high on Rotten Tomatoes, but I found Ebert's comments intriguing, so I went. Atom Egoyan's films are always interesting, unique, and sexually/erotically aimed at an unusual angle. The title role is played by the actress who does the rebellious daughter on "Big Love," the wacky Mormon TV series that explores the polygamy issue on many levels and manages to leave me bug-eyed so often I can't stop watching. What a bunch of weirdo characters! Anyway, Amanda Sayfried goes deeper in "Chloe," and she's very good at it. She's one to keep an eye on. Her face is a constantly shifting silent screen. The Liam Neeson & Julianne Moore characters have a marriage that's floundering a bit, and by the way, their faces are equally expressive silent talkers, but I'm used to them & have loved them longtime. Sayfried is an emerging sparkler, and it'll be interesting to see what else she does. Egoyan manages to tangle her with both partners and their son, each for different motive. It's a powerful film, though the ending is not as satisfying as the rest of it. It seemed like an easy way out.

Friday through Sunday, I tackled the front yard, which had gotten to the point where "hayfield" seemed a fitting descriptor. Mind, it's supposed to be gravel, but ecological succession fueled by unusual amounts of rain had gotten way out of control. I am so sick of hiring self-proclaimed yard workers who won't deign to bend over and can't tell one plant from another. I did it myself, hands only, no machines, only a forked weed lever in areas where the dirt is hard to get roots out of. All this exercise I've been getting lately has made me strong enough, finally, to get the job done. I left intact the beautiful yellow-orange composites that have spread from somewhere to occupy the majority of yards in my neighborhood, bringing smiles and gladness to more than just me or they'd be gone by now. As more rain is coming this week, they say, these desirables may get to flourish a bit longer before drought sets in. A couple of lupines have also survived from what used to be a much larger population that I encouraged years ago before giving up and turning the yard over to mindless machines and poisons.

Did I mention I didn't get accepted into the low-residence poetry MFA program I applied to? I was glum for a weekend. I'm over it. I'll start earlier, do more research, and apply to several different places next year. I've sent poems off to three journals and so far been rejected by two of them. That's all right. I'm a beginner, and I aimed high. I'll follow up with slightly more humble efforts until I find my level.