My mother and I

have been making up a poem in which she kills me and cooks me in a frying pan. In rhyming couplets. We're a weird family.

She's watching Veer-Zaara right now. During the whoa!holdit! taut!emotional!dramatic! scene where the kids hug in front of the girl's parents and fiance and there's DRENCHTASTIC RAIN and semi-ironic background music, it occurred to me that they could have turned this movie into a profoundly sickening cinematic gutpunch. But they had, of course, to go the easy way, with eye candy, song and dance et al. Oh well.

I'm sketching stuff. The rain here has stopped, but I have no reason to believe it won't start up again with a fury by the time I have to go to bed.