Synecdoche

We saw Synecdoche, New York last night with friends. What a lovely thing to do! I don't know what to say about it except that I loved it. And that it's wonderful to see a movie and not feel indicted by the characters or situations, or overwhelmed by the emotional content. Which is how I felt before the meds, watching anything of substance, like Sex and the City, for instance.

Which is not to say that it's all sunshine and daisies chez Panique. On my home tonight, spaced out from vinyasa and meditation, I stepped out when the elevator stopped on the third floor to let someone else on. I hopped back in, and the douchebag looked at the still-lit button for my floor and said, I shit you not,

"Not even close."

I wish I'd had a snappy comeback, but I was a little to overcome by the snark to respond. I wish I'd just given him what we here at Casa Panique refer to as a nut punch.

Which is exactly what it sounds like.