I can now say, with complete sincerity, that I spent a day in a crackhouse. Now, you might say to yourself, "Self, what was Shannon doing in a crackhouse?" And the answer is: a friend was shooting a scene for her directing class and wanted me to boom, and the scene was about two people who are squatting in an abandoned house, and she found a state-owned former crackhouse she could shoot in for free, ergo, I spent all day yesterday in a crackhouse. And it was cree.pee. Graffiti on the walls, boarded up windows, and apparently someone threw a Molotov cocktail into the kitchen, so everything was burned; paint peeling off of everything, the linoleum was all bubbled up, intricate and abstract and almost beautiful charcoal black designs on the walls created by shelves and the like. There was an almost palpable negative energy to the place that on the one hand really enhanced the work that was done, I think, but at the same time made it difficult to stay inside for too long. We kept taking breaks just to sit outside and get some air.

Caroline and I went to go see "Kill Bill" today. It was most triumphant. There's a beautiful, lyrical quality to the violence that was just amazing to watch. I had never really understood the popular consensus that made Uma Thurman one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood, but I see it now. She was just incredible to watch. I've read several reviews that while praising the film, comment on its lack of humanity. See, it's just Thurman killing people, right? But I don't think they get it. Mild spoiler ahead: Thurman is "executed" at her wedding while she is very pregnant. She wakes up from a coma four years later, and the first thing she does is slide her hands down to her flat stomach. She just wails when she realizes she lost her baby, and the camera just stays on her for almost a minute. This film isn't devoid of humanity. The Bride isn't a stoic, passionless robot carrying out her revenge with a certain violent aplomb. That moment on the hospital bed, that scream of realization, is what underlies every action she takes in this film. There is so much humanity and emotion underpinning the character that I can't believe people don't see that. Point being, yes, it's violent and gory, but there's more than that, and if nothing else, it's a spectacle of what cinema is capable of. Look for the samurai fight silhouetted against a neon blue backgroud; my favorite composition in the film.

We went to Starbucks beforehand to get lemonades to sneak in to the theater. The person who took Caroline's order scribbled her name; the r-o-l kind of ran together, and the e at the end wasn't bubbled enough. When the drink-maker called out her name, she said, "Candini." Which is quite possibly the most brilliant thing I've ever heard. The Amazing Candini! Sheer genius.

Yes, I do know a lot about the JonBenét Ramsey case. Ask me your questions!