I saw “No Country for Old Men” tonight. I don’t swear all that much, but all I can say is: That shit is f’d up.
After reading Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” and seeing this movie based on one of his novels, I’m fearful for the people in the 74-year-old author’s life, Pultizer Prize notwithstanding. While brilliant, he has the darkest imagination of any writer I’ve come across. My body was tense for two hours from the suspense. Half of the movie I was so far down in my seat with my hands at my face, I was practically horizontal. I grabbed C.’s sweater and twisted it with anxiety. And, Spanish supporting actor Javier Bardem is such a convincing pyschopath, I would be shocked if he ever gets a date again.
I had some chicken jambalaya and a Corona at the Orleans Cafe with some friends after the movie to try to relax. I still haven’t totally calmed down.
I also have “All the Pretty Horses” on my nightstand. I’ll probably read that next.