So I usually live-blog the Oscars, but this will be interesting. I just got back into town after a very strange 48 hours up in the snowy mountains doing …… I still don’t know what, actually. I’m bleary and grumpy and bloaty because, frankly, I have eaten way too much black bean and ham soup in the last day or so. So guess I should modify that previous statement: I DO know one thing I did and that is — I ate way too much black bean soup in the last day or so. So, yes, I am cognizant of that. I mean, I didn’t eat in my sleep nor was it imaginary soup. But I’m a little around the bleary bloaty bend is what I’m trying to say here.
One could say that something must be a tad off if one goes up to the snowy mountains and only remembers eating black bean and ham soup — soup that one made oneself. And one could ask why did one have to go up to the snowy mountains simply to eat black bean and ham soup. And one could say that using “one” is really cumbersome and snooty and makes one sound like more than a little bit of an ass.
But one won’t say that, will one?
Let’s just repeat that I’m completely ill-prepared to blog this year’s Oscars. I’ve seen almost none of these movies and I really only care about Sandra Bullock and Jeff Bridges. Sandra Bullock because I kind of have a longstanding girl crush on her and will see anything she does no matter how stupid and Jeff Bridges because he’s my favorite actor ever and has been since the 80s and, because, frankly, it’s his time. Despite the fact that, uhm, I haven’t actually SEEN Crazy Heart — because I can’t find it anywhere — still, from what I HEAR, it’s his moment, his time. I’m almost ambivalent about the possibility that he could win. To me, he is so singular, so beyond what most actors out there do or are even capable of doing that giving him an Oscar feels a tiny bit like it lowers him to their level. He’s beyond an Oscar to me. So while I root for him because I’m compelled to — it’s Jeff Bridges, for God’s sake — if he doesn’t win, I will almost feel a sense of rightness about that. The man, to me, is simply outside of Oscar.
I understand it makes no sense to say I want him both to win and not win, but that’s what I want.
It’s the black bean soup talking.
So again. Let’s review: I am bleary, grumpy, and bloaty, but not DRUNK.
Yet.
This year Oscar’s blog has DEE-saster written all over it.
Woo hoo, pippa.
This one won’t say that anyone is presumptious for saying that one ought not to say “one.”
NF — One needs to exercise restraint with “one” lest one sounds like Jane Austen or something.