Marky Mark and Bale are winners
We went to see The Fighter last night – lord today, what a movie – so well done that when they showed the actual real characters at the end, they almost looked to be older versions of Mark Wohlberg and Christian Bale.
The family aspects of this movie hit home – the enmeshed, interconnected, fucked up beyond recognition aspects of being part of an organism that will eat you alive if you try to pull out – it’s like the Borg on steroids – and a little too close to home for me.
When we returned home, the new babysitter was gushing over Tin – how smart he is, how he knows his letters and numbers, and how he performed for her while looking in the mirror the whole time – what a trip he is. Yeah, well, we think he’s great too – when she arrived, she had been our friend and neighbor’s babysitter for years, she had no idea who we were or who our child was – so we watched her eyes widen like a lens as she took in first us – me and Tatjana – and then Tin – and her eyes were spiraling around when we left – but by the time we returned she was so charmed by Tin, I think she noticed less we are middle-aged white lesbians raising a black boy on the bayou and was solicitous of future gigs.