satiated

Last night was one of those perfect evenings.  I’ve been a bit of a cranky bitch lately and decided to show hubster that I did, really, truly, deeply, love and appreciate him.  SO, I dragged my but to DiBruno Brothers and purchased all of the accoutrement necessary to reproduce the gourmet picnics we enjoyed back when we were just dating.

I even warmed up the old debit card on a couple of bottles of Rioja.  (I do deserve a medal, don’t I?)

Husband was suitably surprised and delighted.  The dog was reasonably well behaved (for her anyway.)

The meal was followed by what just might be the greatest documentary ever produced: The Devil and Daniel Johnston.

Oh my freakin god. I don’t remember who recommended it, nor can I explain why it languished first in my Netflix cue, then in the drawer for so long.  Maybe everyone elsein the world already knows about Mr. Johnston.  This movie came out in 2005, so I’m relatively late to the game, but if you too are of the uniatiated, go rent it right now.

Daniel Johnston’s story is like that of many great troubled artists.  He was a gifted outsider, a raw genius in music and art.  He suffered/s from manic depression…severe manice depression.  He developed the most purely cult following of which I’ve ever heard.  His music is beautiful.  It’s pointless for me to try to deliver any more than the most diaphanous view of the man in such a cold medium.  Simply rent the movie, then buy every scrap of music with his name on it that you can find.

The film itself was a remarkable piece of art.  It captures Johnston’s early (from high school) movies along with contemporary footage.

Read more about him here: http://www.hihowareyou.com/ 

To wrap up this evening of perfection, we went to to L2 (our local) for a little something sweet. The bodda-bing cherry pie rocks my world and their manhattans are nothing to shake a stick at.