My Arrested Development binge has coincided with my Scrosese binge. I’m half-way through AR season two, and I’ve watched Raging Bull, Goodfellas, and The Departed. If I were a drinking man — which I can’t be, because of my bipolar meds — I’d say it was something like mixing strawberry daquiris with tequila shots.
(Incidentally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with other people drinking, just with being drunk.)
This could be more disorienting than the Christmas when I read nothing but Flannery O’Connor short stories and stopped trusting anything that strangers said for the next month. Even the dude at the airport who claimed to be the kid from Problem Child.
Life is funny right now. I can’t take myself too seriously. Not with Ron Howard’s 3rd person narration running through my head, describing my every move. And I’m somehow expecting everyone to get screwed in the end. But that’s Scorsese, not me, and not God talking. I’ve got to be careful who I listen to.