Jerome Block Jr. celebrates conspicuous lack of juries, domestic partnership killed by soon-to-be former legislators, plus the usual Wi-Fi, money, Wi-Fi, money, Wi-Fi, LANL issues.
A recent scientific study, the story relayed, had analyzed the brains of people in happy relationships. A person newly in love, one researcher said, has approximately the same brain-chemical patterns as someone using cocaine. Feeling infatuated, starry-eyed and giggly? Think dopamine, oxytocin and vasopressin. Happy Valentine’s, Santa Fe.
After finishing a two-night gig in Santa Fe, country legend Bad Blake lounges in the cab of his pickup truck, waiting for the reporter who’s going to interview him. When she arrives, Jean Craddock apologizes for missing his show, but does he have any idea how hard it is to find a babysitter at this time of night? “I get off work at one o’clock in the morning,” he drawls. “I know how hard it is to find everything.”
That vaguely hypocritical contradiction inherent in the public release of The Private Lives of Pippa Lee seems appropriate for the self-discovering and coyly self-revealing protagonist of writer-director Rebecca Miller’s adaptation of her own novel. From a few different angles, Miller shows us how settling down and settling in are just other ways of becoming unsettled.