So I'm watching Moonstruck. Luck of all luck, it was on TV after the Grammy awards. I've had a special relationship with Moonstruck for a long, long, time. It's been mildly interrupted since my VHS player was "adopted" (or stolen during my
"Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love don't make things nice - it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and DIE. The storybooks are BULLSHIT! Now I want you to come upstairs with me and GET IN MY BED!"
Oh Ronny...oh Cher. Gotta love that outfit. And the perm. And the lipstick that's still perfect the next morning. Cinematic genius if I say so myself. Go rent a copy. Aquire some Italian pearls of wisdom. I'm mentally retrieving my VHS as I type.
Ti amo.
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