I’m a little nostalgic for a good Oscar party. For a few years, I always threw one, and everyone would bring themed food. (I’m a big fan of themed food.) Our friends Corey and Elaine did a fantastic job of making cupcakes representing each best picture nominee, with the themes of the movies being acted out by gummy bears. I remember Capote gummies were involved in a gorey, food-coloring-related murder scene. The Brokeback Mountain cupcakes were, well, not appropriate for children.
I miss those cupcakes. 127 Hours would be a gimme.
But no party this year. Maybe I’ll get my act together and resume it next year. So far I’ve loved True Grit and The King’s Speech. Last night we saw The Social Network, which I thought was fantastic. It’s always interesting–and often unpredictable–which movies you enjoy but never think about once you leave the theater versus which ones stick with you for days. So far The Social Network has stuck with me longer than the others, which is odd, because I wouldn’t really say I enjoyed it quite as much as the others. I liked it, but with, say, True Grit, I think I came out of the theater skipping, eyes-dilated, on a total Jeff Bridges high. (I do really hope the 14-year-old Hailee Steinfeld wins best supporting actress.) I vote Colin Firth for best actor. And now I need to buckle down and watch another three or four movies before awards night.
The last few days I’ve been busy writing to get permission to use certain song lyrics and quotes from academic journals in Ghosts Underground. If you do not need to use lyrics or quote other people in your book, I suggest you avoid it. (I’ve used quotes from 11 different archaeology-related journals as chapter headings, which seemed cool at the time, but I’m starting to question that.) Or if you have to use quotes, pick them from 300 year-old writers who have long lost their copyrighting privileges. On the upside, I got to address envelopes to Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan, which is a lot more fun than, say, paying a water bill.