I’m Gonna Send You Back to Arkansas.

February 27, 2005

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I saw Ray last night.


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I wanted to see a least one movie other than Sideways before the Oscars. Being that the flick’s already out on DVD, there’s only one theater in Manhattan still playing it; the one in the sub-sub-basement of the Virgin Megastore in Times Square. How surreal, to exit from the hushed cavern of a movie theater into the bustle of shoppers, and then the bright lights and noise of Times Square.
There was a lot of stuff I liked about the movie. The old records, of course. The raw data of the biography stuff. Lip-synching puts me off in general; being a recovering addict, I always become unnecessarily consumed with the minutiae of the portrayal of addiction.
(Late at night, channel-surfing, I’m always looking for drug tales. My friend Wayne says, “Joe Montana’s retired, but what do you think is on his mind every day?”)
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Pat Dillett, who produced Rockity Roll and “Move On,” took me to see Ray Charles a couple years ago. His wife works at the Natural History Museum; Ray Charles was playing a brief set at a benefit.
I was never a devot