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Friday, January 24, 2003

Proof, perhaps, that one nation's 18-rated, brutally epic, defiantly adult depiction of crime and gangs in 19th century America is another nation's U-certificated, all-ages-admitted, Sunday-afternoon-viewing-type family fare, comes courtesy of this IMDB-provided, chin-stroking piece about Italy's stance on Scorsese's current cinematic curate's egg. The next thing you know, they'll be giving the "Harry Potter" movies a cinema rating which denies them being seen by the under-twelves in Sweden next...


Since last we spoke, I have moved to a new city, gone on extended career leave, married the coolest woman on the planet, seen a lot of wonderous movies, bonded with a possibly clinically-insane Golden Retriever, grown up more than I ever thought that I would, feared for the long-term future of the planet on a seemingly daily basis, bought surprisingly few Digital Velvet Dogs, experienced the bewildering confusionality of the mortgage process, idly scratched my head and debated in a purely abstract sense about whether to save money for a new tv or a cheap DLP projector and screen, gone on a really wonderful and idyllic honeymoon, wondered about just how Peter Jackson figured out my idea to secure the ethereal vocal talents of Emiliana Torrinni to sing the song which plays over the credits of a jaw-dropping movie blockbuster, thrilled to the sounds of Good Charlotte, Hell Is For Heroes and Saves The Day, applied for a bunch of jobs that I could be qualified to do and might even like to try my hand at.

The long and short of it? I live in a city now, and I'm married - It isn't hypebole to suggest that my 2003 has been fairly packed with incident, joy and a surprising, wholly welcome absence of angst.

Blogger.com willing, and the stars being in a suitable alignment, I will post more soon: Can you even wait?


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