And so it continues...

To continue with my streak of really bad luck I burned my flatmate Stephane yesterday on his birthday.
Because I am a fundamentally nice person despite frequent lapses in judgment and a hatred of excess zippers, I baked Stephane a cookie cake on his birthday, spelling out "HAPPY B-DAY STEPH" in chocolate chips. I then proceeded to drop the hot-from-the-oven-chocolate-still-bubbling cookie onto Stephane's hand, making Stephane's 26th memorable, if for nothing else, the lasting scars that he will have on his hand.
Stephane, ever the gentleman, proclaimed the cookie excellent, after running his hand under the tap for a long time, while his hand was wrapped in a towel.
Today begins a new week, at least on some people's calendars, so hope for the best.
In other news, Bill and I saw The Aviator on Friday. Blech. I found the movie completely unspecial, though Leonardo Di Caprio really out-did himself in unwatcheability this time, and Scorsese upped the ante with excessive strobes and other major annoyances. I cannot figure out for the life of me why anyone would like this movie, unless they really like planes or perhaps unbearable Katherine Hepburn impressions. Anyone who is impressed by Cate Blanchette's impression of old Kate has obviously forgotten that Kate Hepburn was appealing.

Speaking of Scorsese and misogyny... I am currently reading Easy Riders Raging Bulls, which is about all those cool young directors of the 1970s. Rather surprisingly, it's almost the exact same as the chaos book I read last week. I.E. eccentric white men with immigrant parents (ideally, Italian or Eastern European Jew) changed, no, fuck changed! Revolutionized! the world while taking no prisoners. Obviously, genius and common decency are mutually exclusive. Just as female and genius are.
I mean, the 70s were a great decade for movies. And chaos is really cool, and yeah, so many great ideas. And really, it's not like these guys were that much nicer to their male associates than their female ones, although I think the motivations are different...
I guess the question I am left with is is it necessary to fuck all to perform at such a level? Can you put someone above your art or your discovery to really succeed? And is this the reason that women less frequently top the genius lists? (Obviously there are other reasons independent of their ability or ambition, but...)
Ultimately, though, these directors toppled down from the pedestals they placed themselves on, with the exception of maybe Scorsese.
I am uncomfortable living in this world, desperate to curl up and ignore it, and dying to change it.