Kiss Me Deadly

I watched Woody Allen's Match Point last night and now I feel all dirty. It's a rather stale plot, involving a cute tennis player, his ultra-rich and dowdy fiancee and Scarlett Johansson as the blonde femme fatale that tempts him. I felt like I knew what was coming, but was compelled to keep watching as the characters descend into hysterical behaviour of the worst kind. I almost wish Woody would remake the film as a comedy, like he did in that other one with Will Ferrell. Only this time, he should call it: "Woody Allen's Do The Right Thing."

In the end, that's what it boils down to. Morality. Justice. Obligation. I hate that shit. It's like when someone tells me to keep it simple. I don't think many things in this life are simple. Ignorance may be bliss, but that train left the station without me. I'm just hanging out on the platform, all complicated and shit. Someone might take pity on me and hand me a Diet Coke, but it won't help. I have a thirst for all things complex and weird. That's why I like Bjork. It also accounts for the fact that I fully expect to see an ex-lover on television in handcuffs with the headline: Serial Killer Caught! No one is particular, I'm just saying that it wouldn't surprise me.