I'm off to the hometown tomorrow. I'm sure Proustian reveries set off by farmer's market bacon, or at least beer illicitly drank in the basement, are not far off.
At least I usually get some decent thrift store finds.
Until then, don't give into whatever secret Twilight lusts you've been harboring and see Little Ashes. Unless if you have an ass of STEEL because this thing is long. I would give it a longer autopsy (hero worship of Garcia Lorca? episodic nature? NOT ENOUGH NAKED PATTINSON?!?) but I think I already spent long enough on the movie.
Remember folks, just say no to the pretty.