I promised a longer review of Atlas Shrugged for this weekend. This isn’t it. Sorry.
I was going to write it today. Really I was. Then I woke up at an ungodly hour brimming with energy. Nearly ran up the stairs to the garret, where I mudded, sanded, primed, painted, and painted some more. Midday, I noticed — OMG! — the sun is shining. Actually shining! So I grabbed a cup of tea intending to sit on the back deck throwing a ball for Ava and petting the big dogs.
After 10 minutes of sitting, an irresistible urge came on me to deconstruct the yard, so I grabbed a hammer and commenced knocking down and carting away the adorable (but badly built and mostly rotting) trellises, gates, benches, and garden fences the sellers left me. After two hours of that, with energy still coursing (did somebody slip cocaine into my stevia jar this morning?), I returned to painting.
Eleven hours after starting, I finally ran out of steam. Too out of steam to do anything requiring brains.
Anyhow, Oliver Del Signore wrote everything I would have about Atlas, right down to his observations on RottenTomatoes.com critics vs. audience ratings. (Oliver, ya stole my best lines!) Anything Oliver didn’t cover was pretty well taken care of in the comment section of Friday’s post-movie post.
Still, I will have more thoughts on the movie and its critics. Really I will. Probably sometime tomorrow morning — because I’ll be too stiff and sore to get out of bed.
Ideal writing conditions, those.