Hey Jakey,

Things have been kind of blah since your Nana and Papa left, and I haven't felt much like blogging. Hopefully, this will not be the year of "blah." (Oh... just re-read this last sentence. Rewind. That's like saying, "May your life always be interesting." NOT always a good thing. So what I really meant to say was: Hope this blah feeling passes quickly and we all feel not-so-blah in a good kind of way real soon.)

I was effectively kicked out of the Incline office on Monday. Banished. Booted. Unceremoniously dumped. Jay-sus, could that office serve up any MORE humiliations for me within the space of a year? That's all right, I was tired of the drive anyway. Among other things.

Went to see Brokeback Mountain tonight at the Horizon. The "gay cowboy" movie. Easily the best movie I've seen all year. Okay, the only other movie I've seen this year is King Kong, so hardly news there. I love this movie. It's one of those movies that I wish would go on forever. So full of details and beautiful scenery. And romance and subtext. Made me desperately want to go camping. The whole movie also made me want a cigarette...

Two tiny, tiny things that I noticed that spoke absolute volumes:

At one point in the movie, Jack's wife is speaking on the phone with Ennis. Her nails are atrocious. Throughout the movie, she's immaculately put-together, perfect, feathery hair, fussy clothes, fussy makeup. But at that moment on the phone, her nail polish is chipped and neglected. Like the beginning of letting go.

Towards the end of the film, Ennis ponders a couple of Jack's shirts that he has squirreled away in his trailer's tiny closet. They're re-arranged from the first time that we see these shirts, in a way that lets you know that they've been well-handled. And handled again. And pondered many times.



Addendum 2-23-06: Someone just bought these two shirts on ebay for $100,000! Click here to read more.)

Heath Ledger deserves an Oscar. It took me two seconds to look past his Aussie accent-turned-cowboy drawl. A gutsy, all-out performance. Of course Jack would fall for him. Jake Gyllenhall deserves some kind of award for CUTEST. GAY. COWBOY. EVER. PERIOD. I never thought of Jake as cute, but then I saw Donnie Darko last month, and it got me to thinking, wow, he's kinda cute... but he's just the bees knees in this movie.

Okay, honey, let's get this out of the way now. Your momma has a thing for guys on horses. Guys on slo-mo horses is out-of-this-world sexy. The western genre of movies is like porn for me. Even ugly guys look great when they're on a horse. I don't know what it is exactly... ooooh... just shivering thinking about it. Throw in some western-flavored clothing, and um... 'scuse me while I wipe up this little bit of drool.... now, what were we talking about? Now, of course, this is just a movie and tv thing. When I see cowboys walking around in Wal-Mart or 7-Eleven, I'm kinda grossed out.

Other big news: Your first haircut. What a frickin' disaster. Your daddy and I tagged-teamed it, and now you kind of look like Friar Tuck. Neither of us knows how to cut hair. But I didn't want to take you all the way to Katie to have it done either. She'd probably charge me $45. So, I figured, what the hell... Now all I can do is pray that it grows out before your birthday party in San Jose in a couple of weeks.



Plus, a couple more that kind of make you look like a cowboy yourself, plus one that highlights how stupid your haircut is:



Tomorrow looks like snow. Lots of it, so my plans are iffy for the weekend. I wanted to take you shopping and maybe huck you around the park a few times, but we'll see. Sweet dreams, little guy. I love you and can't wait till you wake up. And, uh... sorry 'bout the hair.