zen gyllenhaalism

Goddamn.

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 00:22:00 +0000

Heath Ledger is dead.

Dead.

Fuck. Goddamn it. No, no, no.

Take it back.

I know there are those who would think me ridiculous for sobbing, wracked with grief, snot dripping as I read a news story about someone who was a stranger. But those aren't the people who read me, anyway. I haven't read my emails or written here for a while because I've been off in a divergent fantasy land, trying to escape from the reality that my escapist world had become. Knowing every semi-public detail of Jake Gyllenhaal's life was no longer the source of distracting joy it had been before those details grew to be almost exclusively about his relationship. Too painful to dwell on.

So I escaped into fan fiction, a thing that swallowed me alive just as efficiently as I knew it would. But how can I go on reading Brokeback Mountain fics now? There is no Ennis for me without Heath. And it feels criminal to indulge in something that evokes his image so vividly as a form of escapism when he himself has, it appears, achieved the ultimate escape.

I'm sorry.
I'm so fucking sorry.

Surfacing

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 04:08:00 +0000

9,861 days of artless charm.
1,408.714 weeks of heart-stealing talent.
324 months of keen intellect, mostly expressed in confounding verbal spirals.
27 years of loveliness in every form.

Happy birthday, baby. I love you.

(Real posts will resume shortly. I swear.)

Eager prey

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 15:18:00 +0000

Against you,
what defense?

That any mere mortal
breathe in air
charged by your presence
not exhale it, now your slave
No

To keep muscles engaged
thighs,
calves,
back,
neck
not fall to knees
and hands
but stand to meet
your deserving gaze

This, perhaps.

But so, while the heart
having any human quality
beats faster
dizzying
squeezing
a seething, wounded thing
its rhythm, permanently altered
suffused
conquered

No, no defense
but the only one afforded:
physical denial
circumstance
cruel, mean truth.

(I promise, I really will work on that other topic today. You know how it is sometimes--Jake just suddenly demanded some adoration from me this morning. He can be very intense and...imperative. Best to do as he commands.)

Photo: Esquire, via IHJ.

The $20,000 man

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 18:00:00 +0000

Congratulations of a sort are in order for royandronnie, who last night committed to shell out twenty thousand dollars for the privilege of spending an afternoon with Jake Gyllenhaal. Things started heating up just before 3 pm yesterday, with the competing bids of rammzoo, who apparently couldn't quite swing ten grand. That's when jiblumen stepped in and gave royandronnie a real run for her money, literally. Bidding trickled over into the final ten minutes of the auction, pushing the close time back by ten minutes per bid, though when I refreshed the page it looked more like a total of fifteen to me.

There's some confusion in the fandom over the ultimate outcome of last year's auction, no one able to remember hearing any account of the actual "date" with Jake. I'll be keeping an eye out for different results this time around. Check out the bid history for yourself. Marvel at the deep pockets of fanfic writers. Contemplate a change of career. Prepare for the coming apocalypse.

That is, for me, a serious amount of money. As Jake's price climbed, I began to imagine what I could do if I had that much disposable cash to my name. Here's a brief list of

Things I could do with $20,000

Pay off the balance on my auto loan, twice

Pre-order 635 copies of the Zodiac 2-disc Director's Cut

Buy 200 pairs of Nike sneakers

Fly to New Mexico today for the Brothers open casting call, and stay through the end of the shoot

Believe me, I'm not saying that even one hour with Jake wouldn't be worth twenty grand. I'd give the ACLU a million dollars just to spend ten minutes with him, if I could afford it. And that's what it all comes down to: relative value. One's definition of afford, as well. The inherent evil of an auction like this is that it's so easy for someone who can't really afford it to justify going into debt to fund what will certainly be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Especially someone susceptible to fandom to begin with, and in particular the appreciation of a man whose appeal has surprisingly little to do with his outer beauty. We're even more presupposed to emotionally-driven choices, by our nature. While it's not up to the ACLU to stop someone from behaving irrationally or irresponsibly, it's ethically questionable at best to bait us with the promise of something we could never otherwise have.

By extension, I guess that means Jake should take some of the responsibility for what might happen. I don't have access to his bank balances, but I'm thinking $20,000 is not such a big deal to him. True, by offering his time instead of just handing that much over to the ACLU himself, he has given one or two fans the chance to fulfill a dream. He's probably not even aware of how insane he makes people; he's not an idiot but he doesn't really know how bad it is. Or maybe, maybe he figures that anyone foolish enough to go beyond their means for something like this deserves everything that comes with that choice, good and bad. We'll probably never know.

Photos: IHJ, and I don't know where.

Warm fuzzies

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 18:56:00 +0000

Happy birthday to Jake's big sister, Maggie Gyllenhaal! Maggie turns 30 today.

This makes me happy. Esquire calls Jake Gyllenhaal's performance in Rendition one of six Performances of the Year in their December issue.

Looks like Jeff Wells at Hollywood Elsewhere would have gone with option number three in my poll at right.

It's not that Gyllenhaal plays his Egypt-based CIA guy badly or ineffectively, but that Egypt-based CIA guy is written as such a revoltingly passive wuss....For me, Gyllenhaal's inactivity is infuriating. He's not just a guy doing nothing, but an emblem of do-nothing types the world over.

He sounds like he's blaming Jake for Douglas's actions, or inaction, as the case may be, which misses the point entirely. If you found him infuriating or revolting, Jeff, then he kicked ass, because you were supposed to feel all those things. And Wells's statement about what Douglas's character lacks expresses precisely why Jake's was an incredibly difficult role, and why his performance was that much more worthy of praise. I'm glad the editors of Esquire recognized that, even if Wells doesn't.

Something else that makes me happy: seeing Jake happy. IHJ has posted those photos from Jake and Reese's recent Napa Valley visit, and while the level of paparazzi interest in this relationship still bothers me, seeing Jake so obviously at ease and happy literally brought me to tears. Even Reese smiled at the camera this time. That's the way I like to see them.

Meanwhile, it looks like Jake's about to become the subject of a sniping showdown. Slash writer (it's amazing the things you can learn while browsing around Jake's fandom) royandronnie's opening bid remains the only one so far, and the auction ends at 6 pm EST. At least, I'm sorta hoping it will be sniped. Well, I mean, I totally will understand if no one can afford to bid $5,500, because I can't, but I guess I'd like to see the promise of his company bring in more than the bare minimum for the charity of his choice. Plus it would be fun to watch and see just how crazy Jake can make people.

Update: Well, here's another nice treat I hadn't seen before. This transcript, which the source claims to be from the Los Angeles Rendition press conference, has lots of priceless Jakeisms. I don't understand why I'm just now finding this. This stuff is gold and should have been all over the 'net by now. Some examples:

Reporter: You and Peter shaved your heads in Jarhead. Now, you both have beards.
Jake: Peter and I are dating (laughter). I can see the headlines now.
~~~
Reporter: What qualities do you admire in Reese, as a person and an actress?
Jake: She can grow a mean beard, that's for sure (laughter)! I don’t know if you’ve seen her beard--it's amazing!
~~~
Reporter: Will you comment on rumors that you are dating Reese?
Jake: No. Apparently, I am dating a lot of people, not only of the opposite sex (laughter)--it's very interesting and amusing.
Reporter: The first time we interviewed you, you talked about not having enough sex...
Jake: Are you offering or what? (Laughter)
Reporter: You talked freely during that interview. You have become a star since. So, has your sex life changed?
Jake: I've become an ascetic--I live in a cave now. That's why I am growing a beard. I have no sex, so I’m much more interesting!

Damn, Jake. Could you be any more lovable?

Photo of Maggie thumbnailed from The Internet Movie Database; all others from IHJ.

Comfort zone

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 18:09:00 +0000

Please prepare to sigh deeply and feel the overwhelming urge to drop everything in favor of watching one of Jake's movies, like, now, before you check out this Film Experience post by Nathaniel R.

Sigh.

New pics of Jake back in Beverly Hills showed up yesterday while I was completely removed from computer access, naturally. Sometimes it really does feel like he's heard our comments; for example, the recent references to the longevity of some items in his wardrobe. That shirt is at least three years old. The jeans go back at least two years, as do those goofy shoes. Together, the ensemble perfectly highlights his cuddly/sexy vibe. It would not work on anyone who isn't Jake Gyllenhaal.

Some things in life, I just don't want to know about, but they find me anyway, frequently by accident while following my Jake news routine. This morning I can add knowledge of the existence of House M.D. slash to that list. Hey, I love me some House (Hugh Laurie is one of those men who turns me on without my clearly understanding why), and I've always been a fan of Robert Sean Leonard, but, I don't care to go there. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since the whole slash thing started off with the exceptionally unsexy (to me) pairing of Kirk and Spock. At least House and Wilson don't make me want to recommend the writer of said fics receive electroconvulsive therapy. It's good that I have these lovely images of Jake to erase the mental ones conjured by my unfortunate discovery.

Yesterday I made a discovery of a different kind. I was attending a mandatory annual "meeting" for work, which is really more of a party designed to let all the staff in the district meet and give them a screwoff day to boost morale, and when I lined up for the buffet lunch, I was behind a gentleman from our marketing section with whom I've spoken many times over the course of my job. He turned to me and mentioned that the last time he was at my office, he'd noticed a photo of Jake Gyllenhaal on my desk. Was I a fan? He was immediately graced with my involuntary Gyllenhaalic blush and I grinned. "Are you?" I asked him, and after a second's hesitation, he said he was indeed. We shared an endless stream of barely coherent gushing about Jake that covered Donnie Darko, his visits to Ellen, Brokeback Mountain, Rendition and Zodiac. Before he left, he'd written down my recommendations for Jake movie rentals. It was a warm experience on an otherwise Jakeless afternoon.

All photos: IHJ.

Therapy and item number 8860

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 00:22:00 +0000

Days like today, when I'm sitting at work and completely uninterested in doing any aspect of my job, I find myself loading the same web pages over and over again, looking for news of Jake that doesn't consist solely of rehashings of paraphrasings of sightings posted only so that the author can get those keywords into the stream again for the day. I couldn't begin to tell you what I'm expecting to find, but it beats the hell out of updating attendance records and scheduling interviews. I did feel a perverse glee when I confirmed that Lions for Lambs currently has a 26% rating at Rotten Tomatoes, which makes Rendition's 45% seem positively glowing by comparison.

One of the things that happens when you pass out in the shower and then tearfully confess to your family that you have been severely depressed for a while is that the ER doctor tells you to see a therapist. This is different from seeing the psychiatrist who has been prescribing your antidepressants for about seventeen years, because the pill doctor's job is to fix your brain chemistry. The therapist's job is to make you think about stuff. I think about stuff too much already, so I was never helped by or interested in therapy. But considering how badly the latest depression scared me, it seemed like a good idea to comply, so I went yesterday.

When the doctor asked me what type of man I'm interested in, I laughed and plucked my Jake in '08 t-shirt away from my chest. "This guy, right here," I told him. He was amused and not overly concerned. He also didn't recognize Jake, which really didn't bother me, as he may not get out to the movies much. But when we talked about my complete lack of romantic interaction, he pointed at Jake on my chest and asked, "If he came up to you tomorrow and asked you out, would you accept?"

And the question was so apt, I gave the most honest answer I could: I don't know.

Because my problem is, and always has been, my perception of myself. If Jake Gyllenhaal wanted to be with me, could I let myself trust his judgment that I was, in fact, worthy of him? I wish I could just shout an emphatic yes, yes, YES! in reply, but I'm not there yet. It's something I have to continue to work on. The FedEx delivery guy that came in the office this morning seemed a little weak in the knees; he looked like I feel when I stumble upon someone who really attracts me. He wasn't bad, either. But who knows. Maybe he just ate a tainted Egg McMuffin this morning.

Of course, being approached by Jake for a date is quite a different issue from winning one in a charity auction, but it did make me wonder what it is I think I'd say to the man if given that chance. His ACLU of Southern California price is currently holding at $5,000. I don't blame Jake that the opening bid was far too high, because for all I know it was based on the results of last year's auction, and in either case I'm sure Jake had fuckall to do with setting the number. For that price, Jake ought to be cooking and serving the lunch.

I wonder if he's even seen the auction's headline. It appears to have been written by someone who scanned the fan sites and forums for ideas. Or, hell, maybe Jake's incredible appeal is just that universal and simple. Do other male celebrities get called beautiful by random observers? I mean, it's my word of choice for Jake, too, but I'm rather biased. Anyway, what would we talk about? He's already answered my cilantro question. Honestly, I love Donnie Darko, but I don't need Jake to explain it to me. Maybe I could explain it to him. Oh, and I could ask him what the story is with all those sneakers. But then he'd know just how creepily interested in his life I really am.

Auction photo thumbnailed from Charity Folks. Other photos found in assorted places on the web.

Impenetrable mysteries of the Gyllenverse, part III

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 03:07:00 +0000

We're all thinking it: how many pairs of sneakers does Jake have, and just what does he do with them all?

I have a theory about this one, but it has absolutely no basis in reality whatsoever. Just something that sounds good to me, so I'm sticking with it until he makes a statement disproving it. My theory later. First, let's talk about...

Jake Gyllenhaal's Nike Sneaker Addiction
According to this completely unscientific survey from Mister Poll, the average consumer's sneakers last between six months and two years before they need replacement. Sure, there are those who like to have a few different pairs around for different activities, I suppose. Maybe three, tops.

In my investigation, I went back to the beginning of September this year to learn just how many different Nike sneakers Jake has been seen in.

September 4: Having started the day wearing what look to my amateur eyes to be a pair of Adidas, one of his rare departures from the Nike swoosh, Jake shows off these Nikes while out to dinner in Los Angeles.

September 9: In New York for the start of the Rendition press tour, Jake takes in some U.S. Open tennis with his friend, wearing this pair. Wave to the scumbag pap, Jake!

September 15: RE-TREAD--Jake takes a stroll in SoHo with director Noah Baumbach. Apparently, he has brought a single pair of Nikes to NY, and has not had the chance to shop for more.

September 25: Back home in Los Angeles, Jake valet parks for coffee in a new pair of swooshes. He'll later be photographed in the bizarre big-necked blue sweatshirt ~~two~~ ~~three~~ five days in a row, but this particular pair of Nikes is never seen again.

October 10: Once more leaving Joan's on Third in L.A., with one of the assorted lucky assistant types that alternate in his service, Jake wears what honestly could be something other than Nikes, but let's count them anyway since they don't have the obvious appearance of another brand. And they're different from the last pair.

October 23: Still wearing his then-favorite tan t-shirt, Jake takes a walk in L.A. with Brothers director Jim Sheridan, introducing us to the longest-running pair of Nikes so far in the study.

October 28: RE-TREAD #1--Jake wears them again when he attends a concert in the company of Robert Downey, Jr. at a club in West Hollywood. He has, however, switched off to the gray t-shirt.

October 31: RE-TREAD #2--For an unprecedented third time, we see Jake wearing the pale Nikes with the red-outlined swoosh and the yellow heel insert in the sole as he approaches his ride in Beverly Hills. This was the day of the infamous "pap-slap," possibly inspired by sneaker ennui. (Later that night, Jake was photographed wearing these completely unidentifiable [by me] reflective sneakers, in addition to a gorilla suit).

November 2: RE-TREAD #3 (!!)--Nevertheless, when Jake gets papped arriving at a basketball game at L.A.'s Staples Center, the gray-yellow-red Nikes are back for one last hurrah.

November 6: I've never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life. Ahem! Sorry, on with it. Walking with Reese in an L.A. parking lot, Jake coordinates a new pair of Nikes with his oddly sexy sweat shorts. The orange shirt is...less sexy, but on Jake, does it really matter?

November 9: Somewhere in a garage in Los Angeles, Jake Gyllenhaal debuts his SEVENTH pair of Nike sneakers in two months. He also dons the same layered shirts that I admired so from the Clippers game. Thanks, baby!

There you have it. Seven distinct pairs of Nike sneakers over the span of sixty-six days. And those are just the ones captured in photographs. Who knows how many different Nikes he wore on the days in between?

My theory is sort of developed around the observation that Jake has been known to re-wear several sets of non-sneaker foot attire (the battered black boots and the thong-sandals come to mind), but once we see him in a different pair of Nikes, the previous pairs never appear again. This new-sneaker addiction, an observable quirk, is all the more prominent because of Jake's well-documented penchant for wearing the same clothes over a span of a year or more. Also, every pair of sneakers we see him in looks brand new. He never seems to wear them out. Does Jake test shoes for Nike? One might reasonably make such a guess. I think, however, that Jake loves to buy new sneakers, loves to coordinate them with his clothes when possible, but then almost immediately sees something new that he wants.

Therefore, my official Jake Gyllenhaal Nike Sneaker Disposition Theory is that Jake wears the sneakers once or twice and then donates them somewhere. I know, it's a stretch, but it certainly fits the evidence. It's nicer to believe this than imagine a room in his house dedicated to forgotten Nikes, piled knee-deep, the door kept locked except when he comes home to discard the latest castoffs as he prepares to break in yet another new pair.

All photos: IHJ.

Worth a shot

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 03:50:00 +0000

Here's something I've been compiling in my head for a few days. I finally had a chance to start putting it down while I was in the doctor's office waiting room this morning. Please, settle back now and enjoy...

Attention Jake Gyllenhaal: Ten Reasons Why You Should Marry Me

You won't have to bend nearly double to kiss me. All it will take is a gentle dip of your head. In fact, all of our parts will line up perfectly. You could grab my ass without dislocating your shoulder. And while my self-esteem may not be exemplary, I do know that my ass is very much worth grabbing. Trust me.

There is no ex for you to be compared with in my past. In any department. No matter what you say or do, it's all new to me and not something to be submitted to my own subconscious grade scale.

I always carry my own damn purse, which is not suitcase-sized, and when I don't feel like carrying one, I leave it at home. Plus, I've been known to carry the wallet of my male companion in said purse upon request, so he wouldn't have to sit on a lump while driving or in a movie theater seat.

I don't find you the least bit boring. Going to clubs holds no appeal to me. My idea of a perfect evening is to spend it curled up on the couch with you, just talking, or watching a movie together. Walks on the beach are also highly ranked. Hell, walks anywhere would be great, and my legs are as long as yours, so you don't have to worry about adjusting your stride to accommodate mine.

Your work and mine will never cause scheduling conflicts. Actually, once I get to California I have no idea what work I'll be doing, unless I can get a writing grant. But I am free to travel with you when desired, or stay at home and water the plants. Either way, I'll take loving care of Atticus so you can concentrate on your job.

Speaking of dependents, I currently have none of the human variety. I am more than willing to change that, granted the appropriate partner (i.e. yourself). Our children are statistically assured to be tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed angels like their Daddy. Just do a Punnett square if you don't believe me. (I know that looks aren't everything, but this is a nice bonus.)

Should you, however, be in the mood for romping with children immediately, my nephew and your niece are close enough in age to make terrific playmates for each other. He's a good-natured, happy baby who loves male voices.

That need of yours, to have an audience, will always be satisfied with genuine interest, occasional eye rolling, frequent warm indulgence and hearty laughter. I'm already doing all of that, because there's no one and nothing I love to watch more than you.

You love to cook. I hate to cook. And we both hate the taste of cilantro. You can order me around the kitchen, or order me to get the hell out while you conjure whatever culinary magic your heart desires. I will eat anything you serve, willingly, eagerly, with lust in my eyes and appreciative noises issuing from my throat. Umm.

My absolute non-celebrity will make our couplehood spectacularly uninteresting to the tabloids and press. No one is going to ask you questions about me while you're trying to promote a movie, unless they happen to actually know and care about both of us, which is unlikely. Of course, paparazzi are still going to chase you, because you're so damn photogenic, but half of them will probably mistake me for your sister anyway.

All photos: IHJ.

Let me in

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 17:55:00 +0000

I tremble with the need to touch you.

This ache, long savored,
swells, filling my being
at the sight of your photographed image.

That you don't understand what your pictures bring
is part of the uncanny grace that makes you worth looking at.

So much of what you are is reflected
in glimpses, snapped
like this one
capturing a moment
of shyness
of sweetness
of subtle, tantalizing mischief
as the photographer no doubt has directed this half-naked stance.

So far beyond the mere aesthetic,
your profound beauty,
and it radiates through every still frame,
every candid exposure;
your expression says you think this photo will be pure beefcake, silly.

I see it with my heart.

Not a man without his shirt
but a man, full of humility, and humor, and a desire to please.

That is the genius of this photograph: it captures the essence of you.

And that is why I tremble.

My aching, yes, to caress the dark swirls on golden skin
and in doing, touch the man inside. You.

Photo by Mario Testino, as featured in Let Me in, by way of jakegyllenhaalfan.com.

Screwed

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 13:02:00 +0000

I'm trying to remain positive about this. (Being positive about anything at this hour when my mood has not yet risen to a completely functional elevation is daunting, so hopefully you'll understand if I fail to sound enthusiastic.) There's more news this morning, courtesy of the Hollywood Reporter, about that mysterious project Variety mentioned the other day. According to them, both Jake Gyllenhaal and Jessica Biel are "attached" to Nailed, a "risque political satire" to be directed by David O. Russell.

Risque political satire.

That sounds refreshing, actually. Except the political part. I love Jake's selectivity and principled choices, but he's already being pigeonholed by some critics as too political. Anyway, that's not the point. The point I was gonna make has to do with HR's description of the plot.

Biel would play Sammy Joyce, a socially awkward small-town receptionist who has a nail accidentally shot into her head by a clumsy workman, eliciting wild sexual urges.

The uninsured Joyce goes on a crusade to Washington to fight for the rights of the bizarrely injured. She meets an immoral congressman (Gyllenhaal) who takes advantage of her sex drive and capitalizes on her crusade as Joyce heads into her own career in politics.

Ugh.

For those who are wondering why I'm not on my knees thanking god or whatever powers responsible that Jake is guaranteed to have a sex scene if this movie happens, please allow me to explain. No, actually, I think this Cinema Blend post effectively demonstrates it well enough. I'm not saying I make the same assumption that Josh Tyler has, only that his take is completely reasonable and probably not unique.

But I said I was trying to be positive, so here goes. First, Jake's potential role sounds smarmy and somewhat villainous, which would be absolutely delicious. Second, yeah, the probable (I hate to jinx it by saying inevitable) sex scene(s). Yes, I really did mean to put that second. Because as much as I fantasize about Jake and would love to be helped along by some new material, the context does matter to me. And third, satire. That's even better than a romcom, if you ask me, as long as it's well-written and directed. So, my intrigue at the floated title has grown into guarded optimism that the project will not be dismissed by critics based on its synopsis and will actually become something keen and titillating at the same time.

That is, if it happens at all. I don't know what the rules are in Hollywood. What needs to transpire before someone can say an actor is "attached" to his or her project, anyway? A phone call to someone's agent to see if they're interested? A pie-in-the-sky wish? HR clearly states that no contracts exist, yet.

Meanwhile, there's confusion about whether Brothers has already begun filming, like, last week, or today, or when. IMDb still says principal photography begins on November 27, while posters to the site's message board say trailers for the actors are already setup onsite at the College of Santa Fe in New Mexico. That Jake suddenly shaved off the beard he's been telling everyone was grown specifically for this movie has certainly added to the confusion. My friends know I always thought the beard was premature anyway, probably half for some kind of Brothers pre-production and half for the orneriness of keeping it when everyone seemed to be complaining. Whether the beard was only needed for scenes that have already been filmed, will reappear soon, or was never meant for the movie to begin with (maybe he just said that to stop people from asking about it), it's nice to have something vitally important to debate again.

It's love

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 02:39:00 +0000

What you want and what is the truth are always two different things. -- Jake Gyllenhaal

Sweetheart, I couldn't have said it better myself.

Well, maybe I could have, but I wouldn't have looked nearly as good saying it.

Evidence that Rendition is still playing in at least one major metropolitan area: for whatever reason, this interview with Jake (the source of the quote above), which I'm guessing was taped in Toronto during the film festival, just appeared today on the Chicago CBS affiliate's website. Of course, they may have aired it earlier for all I know, since I do not live in Chicago.

Anyway, as you can see, I'm here, having not killed myself as promised. It's hard to estimate just how strangers reading my words have interpreted my depression; some would say I should not worry about what others think of me, but I'm suddenly feeling the need to express a very important fact about what's been happening to me. I want everyone to know, and understand, the truth: I was not made suicidal by the sudden revelation that Jake Gyllenhaal was romantically involved with someone.

I've been depressed for most of my life, clinically. On medication, which you may have noticed me joking about more than once. When the chemicals in your brain are imbalanced like mine, almost anything can trigger a deep trough, a black period in which life literally loses all meaning. In this case, the last in a series of mental health tripwires was my self-assessment in the wake of my reaction to the relationship "news." Unfortunately, knowing why you are depressed does not, contrary to what might seem logical, make the depression go away. My medication has been adjusted, and while the improvement so far can more likely be attributed to yet another mood swing than the meds, I feel better knowing I will feel better.

Positive signs:

I have not cried all day today. No, wait, that's not exactly true. I did weep a little after watching Mask on cable. Oh, and again at the end of Stranger Than Fiction. I was drawn into it by Emma Thompson and Maggie Gyllenhaal (whose performance left me talking back to Jake's image on my computer monitor--Your sister fucking rocks, baby!). Is it just me, or is Will Ferrell the most utterly charmless film star ever? On the Charm Continuum, if Jake Gyllenhaal is at one extreme (given), Ferrell is definitely at the other, infinitely dissipating extreme. But I digress.
I'm starting to look forward to moving to California again.
Best of all, I found myself smiling uncontrollably while downloading all those images of Jake that I've been meaning to grab...including those featuring him with Reese Witherspoon.

To my great relief, in fact, I have been grinning, laughing and squeeing over Jake all day long. The concept that he might actually be as wonderful as he seems is no longer irrationally unsettling to me. I still love him, more than ever, and I'm grateful all over again for the pleasure he brings to my life. Wanting to be with him won't make it come true, but it fills the gaps with a perfect sweetness.

Photos: jakegyllenhaalfan.com, IHJ.

Laundry list

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 03:17:00 +0000

I never imagined I could be so at home in a completely new place as I was this past weekend with my beloved friend, Charlene. She made me feel welcome, in her home and in her town, and it was the most I've relaxed in a good many years. Thank you, my separated-at-birth other sister, for the vacation I so desperately needed.

Charlene, me, and Powder

From the moment Charlene approached me at the airport, and I burst into tears, I knew the trip was more than worth the effort. It wasn't the last time I wept on her, either, poor woman. Such relief at finally meeting my friend was not something I had expected, but I'm an emotional basket case anyway. Together we laughed, we cried, we squeeed. It was everything I wanted it to be.

Naturally, while I've been escaping from my escapism, events have continued to unfold in Jakedom. He's very inconsiderate sometimes.

Okay, I admit: the foremost development on this front isn't of Jake's doing. Jake Watch have officially announced their impending departure from the blogosphere. And this I had to read while in a hotel lobby, because contrary to what the hotel's online profile stated, there was not, in fact, wireless internet in every room. So there I sat, leaking from the eyes and sucking back snot as I read the kind well-wishings of JW loyalists whose names hadn't been seen around in many months. Jake Watch has been more than a destination; it is an institution, one that Jake and his "people" would have done well to appreciate while they had the chance. But hey, britpopbaby and Prophecy Girl weren't doing it for Jake, they were doing it for themselves and us. Nothing good lasts forever. I salute them.

Someone at San Francisco online alternative zine BeyondChron managed to echo all the frustration that has followed me since the first mainstream Rendition reviews appeared. Marc Norton, a hotel bellman by profession, writes

[T]hat is the point of this movie -- to make you think. That is exactly what all the luke-warm and negative reviewers don't want to do, and don't want you to do.

Yes, I said I felt somewhat unsatisfied by the film myself, but I can now confirm, having seen it a third time, that it does indeed get better with every viewing. It probably should embarrass me to confess this, but I still get a chill every time Isabella El-Ibrahimi shrieks at Corrine Whitman to just tell her that her husband is okay. True, some people get a similar chill when they hear fingernails scraped down a chalkboard, but the moment works for me, and I didn't think it would. Anyway, even if you skip Norton's review, please check out his link to an article from the New York Times about a real-life "war on terror" whistleblower whose efforts prove that perhaps Douglas Freeman's actions were not so far-fetched after all.

Let's see, then we had Jake and Reese attending a Halloween party in the most pathetic non-costumes imaginable. These are people with money. The lack of any effort on their part strongly suggests that either the invitation or the choice to attend came at the last second. That's always the way I want my party guests to be represented to the public at large. Hooray for Hollywood.

What else? Jake's getting down to work on Brothers, and now there's a whisper from Variety linking him to something called Nailed that would also star Jessica Biel. That title connotes such potential, I'm afraid to scoff. It's almost a wet dream unto itself.

Oh, then my internet provider irritated the hell out of me by failing to pick up the new DNS record for IHeartJakeMedia following their domain expiration a few days ago. I'm way behind on downloading Jake images, and that didn't help matters. Things are finally in place as they should be, but it will take me a whole weekend to catch up.

Jake hung out with Robert Downey, Jr. one night. Then he and Reese got video papped on a beach somewhere. Reese appears at one point to be picking something from Jake's teeth. Very romantic. In the past, such intrusive video would have set off my fiercest protective instinct, but the fact that they've probably been together for several months and managed to avoid such paparazzi run-ins for as long as suited their needs leaves me feeling somewhat less sympathetic. And I hate that I feel that way.

I want to continue to love Jake in the way I always have. More than want, I need it; it's something to occupy a dangerously obsessive mind, one that will turn to far less benign thoughts in the absence of this diversion. Most of all, I don't want to come here sounding like a bitter rejected fifteen-year-old, and I'm afraid that's exactly how I sound.

I can't swear off Jake right now. I fear it would literally kill me. Especially when photos like this one make my heart ache.

Photos: Peggy Mitchell, IHJ.

Departing

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 02:15:00 +0000

Remember, I'm going to be away for a few days starting tomorrow. So if I don't come in to post something, it's not proof that I've slit my wrists. Honest.

This is a poem I wrote for my very treasured friend, Charlene, back in April. I can't imagine anything more appropriate to leave you with while she and I meet for the first time and celebrate a friendship that we both owe to none other than Jake Gyllenhaal.

What does love mean?
Who decides when it's love
and when it's something else?

Can you tell me it's not love
just because I've never met him,
never had a conversation,
never stood in his presence?

Because I can't touch him,
can't hold him,
can't comfort him when things overwhelm?

Because I've never watched him walk away
and wondered if he'd ever come back?

Does love have qualifications?

Don't speak these other words to me--
infatuation, idolization, fandom, lust!
--and condescend to tell me that they describe what I feel

My love is as real as any other
A living, hoping, screaming thing

You cannot squeeze my feelings into one of your neatly labeled boxes just to make yourself feel better

So you, who say I do not love:
can you say to me that you do?
And how does it feel?

Do you think about him at the most random moments
(what funny thing would he say about this? or
I wonder if he's happy right now)?

Do you cry, and laugh, and sigh for him?

Do you wish him all the joys, big and small, that life may hold?

Do you marvel at the beauty of the human being he is?

Love and reason are strangers to each other
Rationality and emotion, only passing acquaintances

And all this pain,
and craziness,
and euphoria
that propels me through my waking hours
However irrational, however unreasonable
However misunderstood and derided by you
Is as precious to me as any secret
and as real as any truth

This is my heart
and it loves

Photo: IHJ.

Zen-less

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 03:37:00 +0000

Disclaimer: Anyone who feels they might be offended to read the honest, confused, irrelevant and disturbed reactions of a strange fan, please leave now. You won't like this. And you can't leave me nasty comments because registration is required, so you might as well move along.

Just when I thought my head couldn't get any more fucked up.

I've been battling a migraine for the past five days, and now I know why. It was the harbinger of abysmal, soulcrushing depression to come.

It's not like this is a complete shock. Except it is, in its way, because of all the denials. Except those denials weren't really denials, were they? They were carefully worded dodges, witty retorts and (in her case) intimidating refusals to answer bolstered by publicists crawling around on all fours during interviews. I have actually been telling myself for weeks that I would be relieved if Jake made a relationship public, because then, all the speculation would be over, Jake could go about his business and stop facing the irrelevant questions that reporters and talk show hosts had no right to ask. I thought I wanted this.

So why does it hurt?

Jake Gyllenhaal does not owe us anything, least of all any kind of insight into his private life. But for someone like me, who has staunchly defended his right to privacy and even suggested that some people were a little overeager to believe the tabloids, it's like a dirty trick. Hah! You tell people to stop speculating about me? Here's what you get: proof that those tabloids actually were right. Now I must resign myself to never doubting another bloody word I read attributed to US Weekly, People and OK.

I guess this means we should all be bracing ourselves for Brokeback 2?

Sigh.

What the hell, Jake? Don't you understand? You're far too special to be sharing yourself with another Hollywood type, no matter how respectable she may appear to be. You are supposed to be with me. Only me, forever. I'm the only one who knows how truly unique you are, who appreciates all your little quirks, who noticed the gray spot in your beard before you did, who dreams of you not because you're the most beautiful man in the world, but because you are sweet, and dorky, and funny, and warm, and sometimes a bit of a prick, and frequently can't articulate your way out of a paper bag, and more than anyone real in my life, you feel like a friend. See, I've only ever really loved my friends. I'm not one of those women who has friendships with one type of man but prefers another as a partner. I don't lust after the bad boy or the guy who treats me the worst. I might even be unique myself, because I don't know anyone else who has been alone her entire life, always the friend, never the girlfriend or lover. Never the lover. I can't be with just anyone. It has to be someone I love and trust. There have only been a few men who fit that description, and they were the best friends I ever had, but that's as far as it could go for them: friendship.

I am confused by fans I see online talking about jealousy over this, who clearly have partners in their real lives. If I had someone, I wouldn't fucking be here. Yes, Jake is talented, and I'd still enjoy his movies, but I wouldn't need him. And I do need him. He's my surrogate boyfriend, the lover I don't have, the fantasy man. That he's probably been seeing someone for months while I successfully used him in this fashion might rationally sound like a reason to relax, but I'm here to tell you it hasn't helped me.

I'm not particularly concerned with whether or not you like me. 'Cause I live to like you, and...and I can't like you any more. -- Duckie Dale (Jon Cryer), Pretty in Pink

I'm not an idiot. Just because he wasn't with someone else never meant that I had a chance, and yes, I recognize that fact. Nor do we have any guarantee that this is the last relationship he will ever have. And more than anything I want for him, I want him to be happy. My irrational reaction is my problem, not his. Why this should have any effect on my fantasies, I can't really say. It just does. Not being able to constantly escape into thoughts of being with him is a terrifying prospect to me. On my way home from work tonight, I honestly started to panic; my life is so colorless and flat and I have literally no clue what to do with myself, professionally or otherwise. Having filled every (oh, so many) hollow moment with contemplation of Jake in some form or other for so long, I can't imagine anything else suffusing me with that ebullient passion. Nothing's as easy as loving Jake.

Screaming girls

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 18:11:00 +0000

Here's yet another great interview with Jake from London, this time in the Daily Mail. Today's lighthearted gem of a quote comes in response to the question of who Jake would like to be stuck in an elevator with. He sidesteps this neatly, as we have come to expect, by instead talking about the crazy interview he did with Susan Sarandon for Moonlight Mile, a portion of which took place in the ladies' room of a Manhattan restaurant.

I discovered two things that day: that the floor in a woman's bathroom is colder than the floor in the men's. And, believe me, I've spent a lot of time on the floor of a men's bathroom so I should know!

What, was he standing there barefoot? Positively priceless, darling. Now we'll have lots of blog posts in the next week about Jake Gyllenhaal's intimate knowledge of men's room floors. At least he didn't say they were airport men's rooms.

I'm not going to discuss the other thing he discovered, unless someone really wants me to. Because I could, you know. I'm just trying to be polite to my innocent readers.

Apparently he either has managed to avoid exposure to the redundant and conflicting agendas of the worst offenders, or recognizes that they do not represent all of us, because he has kind words for his fans in general. And in case anyone still doubted it, Jake confirms that he loves that red carpet attention, so I hope our Xenia and Kate screamed their lungs out for him in Rome. I'd love to scream for him, too, but I'd prefer to do it in a more private setting.

All photos: IHJ.

Be nice to me

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Sun, 21 Oct 2007 04:54:00 +0000

Yes, I'm going to talk about what I thought of Rendition.

First, go read this interview with Jake from the Telegraph, done while he was in London. On the one hand, it has terrific elements than any good interview should: description of Jake's posture, clothing (guess which well-worn, big-necked ensemble?) and oh god, voice ("gentle with dark undercurrents"--can I cut that phrase out and put it under my pillow?), evidence that the writer has actually done some research, and questions pertinent to the reason they're both there: Rendition. On the other, it's full of extraneous stuff; recycled facts from that research I just mentioned, and a completely unnecessary probing into Jake's sexuality that proves the interviewer is one of those people who...well, he's one of those people. Plus either transatlantic flight made Jake two inches taller, or this guy just guessed it wrong. Everyone does says he seems taller than they imagined.

So, Rendition.

I wish I could rave about it, say that it was unequivocally the best movie I've seen since Zodiac, but this isn't that kind of movie. I attended a Friday night showing and left the theater somewhat unsatisfied. Thinking it was probably due to all the pent up expectation, and the vaguely arctic temperature in the theater that made it hard to focus, I decided to see it again this afternoon. Besides, I really wanted another, undistracted look at Douglas Freeman. Hey, I'm nothing if not honest.

On second viewing, I did feel more involved in the story, but not as much as I thought I should have been. Maybe that's because I wanted it to be something it couldn't: a revelation. Unlike the majority of the intended audience, I have already read enough about the policy of extraordinary rendition and its purported place in the defense of national security. Rendition didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. At least this time, I did feel moved by several scenes, and my overall impression is that this is a movie that will grow on me with each additional viewing, much like Jarhead.

What I can enthusiastically endorse is Jake's performance. My bias notwithstanding, it's a Hollywood irony that while few critics seem to know what the film's motives were, the role of Douglas Freeman struck me as typical Oscar fodder. WDW was right in that this really is Jake's movie, despite its trying to be so much more. His is the character that makes the biggest connection, who reveals multiple dimensions to the audience. All the performances were excellent, but for me no one shone like Jake with his flimsy professional facade after the bombing and barely-contained self-loathing during the events that follow. More than anything else, what I walked out of that theater feeling this afternoon was an intense pride. As with most of his movies, the box office numbers will be irrelevant; Jake Gyllenhaal has proved again that he is a phenomenal actor, and he'll have work in Hollywood for as long as he wants it.

All photos: IHJ.

Release

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 14:09:00 +0000

Another twelve hours before I will finally watch Rendition. That is, if I don't get sent home from work early for doing everything wrong because I am mentally elsewhere. Would that be a good or a bad thing?

Ellen DeGeneres is one of the kindest, sweetest people I've ever seen, so hearing her call Jake Gyllenhaal her friend gave me such a warm mushy feeling I almost cried.* I know that's because of my hormones, but it still made me very happy. Hearing her say what I already knew--that he "might just be the perfect man"--didn't feel bad, either.

Oh, so much to savor in this visit with Ellen, I haven't even absorbed all of it yet. Jake conceding that he'd take off his pants before he took off...what? His shirt? Let the speculation on why begin. Jake dangerously playful with a big knife; Jake like an excited kid in the kitchen, grabbing at the chicken in the refrigerator before the clock started; Jake sounding absolutely sincere when he gushed "I've always wanted to do this!" Jake ordering Ellen around like Gordon Ramsay, only charming; Jake eagerly grabbing the wine and gulping it with both hands on the glass.

Sigh.

There's so much I want to say today, but I'm afraid to keep going on and on...I may never stop.

Ten and a half hours remain now until I see Rendition.

Vanessa Farquharson's interview with Jake finally was published this morning at the National Post. Even if she hadn't declared in so many words her crush on him, she revealed the level of her interest by referring to his "perfectly formed" hand. This is the kind of talk that goes on in the fangirliest of forums, like here, here, and here. I know because I'm one of the fangirls.
(Update: I just noticed that Vanessa has erroneously identified IHJ rather than the brilliant Jake Watch as the originators of the Jake in '08 campaign. Is there no justice for PG and bpb? Should I write to the National Post?)

Following on the heels of these two items in the Washington Post is a similar Q-and-A with Peter Sarsgaard. I'm sure this means there's more with Peter elsewhere in the paper, and I'll go find it later.

What am I avoiding here?

The truth: I am afraid of not liking this movie. This is a rotten side effect of my constant pursuit of news that contains the name Jake Gyllenhaal, because just about every reviewer has indicated their opinion within the title or opening line of their review (as is good practice). No, I don't usually take the word of film critics on any movie, but I have to admit having been affected by the negativity I've exposed myself to over the past week.

More than that, I am irrationally but nonetheless deeply concerned for Jake and his happiness. What shines clear and true through all the interviews we've seen this week is that Jake is very much a genuine, sensitive young man; there is no magical mithril celebrity armor protecting him from the bullshit of Hollywood, he is not slick and polished. He is consistently shy when complimented about his physique and sincerely uninterested in impressing anyone with his own political opinions, preferring to focus on his job as an actor. In short, he appears to be a vulnerable, sweet, uncommon human being. I don't know any men like this personally. None who are available, anyway. Which is why I've been alone all my life.

About nine and a half hours to go.

Perhaps the very thing that I know to be causing all this artificial (yes, I recognize it for what it is) angst will actually help me tonight when I sit down in the theater. I'm so emotionally susceptible right now, it's probably the best time to watch Rendition, because even if it sucks, I'll be swept away.

*In fact I did cry later when Ellen told the car jumper about his Nike deal. I am seriously at the mercy of my endocrine system.

All photos: IHJ.

Piddling influence

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 15:04:00 +0000

I am avoiding all the Jake sites online, starting right now, until I get home and watch Ellen and the ITV interview for myself. True sign of a bent mind: the fear of being spoiled on an interview. I tried to tell my doctor that we need to review my meds, but he said I was fine.

Anyway, I've forgiven Jon Stewart for going on and on about Larry Craig. Because this morning, I had a thought. It's a far-fetched thought, but it is entirely within the realm of probability. Last night, my immediate impression was that the Donnie Darko references were Jon's creative way of both acknowledging the online fandom and telling us that he thinks we're insane. That assessment hasn't changed, but what did occur to me as I read through Prophecy Girl's live-blog account made me glad I hadn't thought of it last night. Because I'd never have gotten to sleep. Because it's just too intriguing to ponder.

Of all the roles, why Donnie Darko? Certainly the Brokeback Mountain community has a bit more presence.

Perhaps because one of the crazy fans who wrote to The Daily Show begging Stewart to mention the online Jake in '08 campaign signed with her screen name, Cherita Chen, and some intern whose job it is to read that email recognized the name as a character from Donnie Darko? Did Jon Stewart just make fun of me on his frequently-rerun (just look at my sidebar) show? Has the legacy of the Toronto cilantro continued?

Or is it the migraine medication I had to take last night? The hormone fluctuation from my feminine cycle? Just plain nuttiness?

I'll be back some time tonight after I've caught up on all the day's treasures. Cheers!

Photos: IHJ.

Conan O'Brien saves the world

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 11:42:00 +0000

Okay, not really. But he did give us the absolute best, most delightfully bizarre moments with Jake so far this week. He's also the first one to even mention Zodiac among Jake's past work. Just about everything that was missing from all the prior interviews was here, starting with a change of clothes for Jake. Whether this was arbitrary or the result of some misfortune befalling the pinstriped suit, we can't say.

Conan cited the Jake Gyllenhaal beard effect, which induced Jake to talk about how he smells. This is very dangerous territory, and once again I wonder if Jake knows what he's doing to some of us when he says these things.

Having (more subtly than on his last visit) trashed his father's judgment on Letterman, it was someone else's turn to be embarrassed by Jake on national television: his friend, the devoted Red Sox fan. Gyllenhaalics can pretty well guess who that is, and being able to picture him as Jake tells the story makes it that much funnier. I always prefer that Jake humiliate himself rather than a loved one when giving interviews, but in this case a little payback for some truly eye-catching behavior was probably in order, so I'm with him here. Plus he's just so damn adorable in telling it; it's Jake's recreation that everyone will see and make fun of, and he knows that.

Conan also managed to ask Jake a somewhat personal question that wasn't invasive. I hope other tv hosts around America were taking notes. Jake said yes, he went a little crazy being between jobs for several months, and then gave us the musical tie-in that we should have had on Letterman with 50 Cent by singing a bit of Gnarls Barkley. Which he parlayed into a Gnarls Barkley duet with Conan. I love this man.

Um, Jake, that is, though Conan has definitely won me over in his own right.

So, will Jon Stewart ask Jake any of the questions sent in by fans? Honestly, it would be more than I hope for. This week's schedule is so full of Jakey goodness it has made the home stretch to Rendition's opening fly by, and the promise of another red carpet appearance (Roma Film Fest) immediately following means my adrenaline--and my pheremones--will be pumping for a while to come.

Rendering truth

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 13:19:00 +0000

Meredith Viera: Brokeback Mountain, did you have any idea when you were making that, what you were sitting on? ...So to speak, I probably shouldn't use that term, actually I apologize...

Jake: Very well put, Meredith.

Well, that was worth waking up for.

So let's recap the promotional tour so far:

Jonathan Ross awkwardly focuses the majority of his interview on Brokeback Mountain and Jake artfully dodges the environmental issue by declaring he swims everywhere. Ross then ratchets the awkwardness up another couple notches by commenting appreciatively about Jake's naked stomach.

Jake tells David Letterman that a shitfaced, belligerent woman in London went from an object of hate to love when she called him Jake Gooberballs. Dave asks the tired old question about growing up in a showbiz family and we are all rewarded with another story demonstrating that Stephen Gyllenhaal is an absent-minded dork. I picture Naomi with her head in her hands listening to this.

The Today interview goes from intense, focused intellectual discussion about Rendition and Jake's (very well articulated, I thought) motivations in choosing roles to embarrassed twitters as Meredith Viera puts her fumbling foot quite neatly in her mouth while yet again bringing up a movie Jake made two years ago. Jake handles it so gracefully I want to kiss him. I'm kidding no one here, I always want to kiss him.

And now, Kelly Ripa thinks the beard is a nice one. Kelly apparently doesn't notice the patchiness that I see, or that gray spot that Jake himself has just acknowledged. Regis Philbin interrogates Jake about his social life like an overprotective mother. Jake struggles to remain polite while avoiding answering questions that are no one's damn business and still comes off charming. Kelly at least manages to ask a decent question about photo shoots, and Jake uses the word fraud regarding those Interview images. I swear I've heard that before.

More on all this later. I'm going back to bed for a few hours.

All photos: IHJ.

Monday morning wake-up call

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 18:00:00 +0000

I discovered something about my obsession this morning: I have not lost all capacity for reason. Here's how I know. There will be a sneak preview of Rendition at University of Miami's Cosford Cinema in Coral Gables tomorrow night at 9 pm. And I'm not planning on going. Coral Gables is about 90 minutes from my home, and it's just too damn far and too much trouble to justify. I can see the movie a few days later as planned if it saves me a trip to south Miami. I'm so proud of myself for being able to say that, it's rather frightening in itself. Let's not focus on it.

In addition to the Supreme Court decision on the ACLU case of Khaled El-Masri, the movie is getting free press courtesy of Amnesty International, who want us to watch Rendition and then go sign up at their Unsubscribe Me campaign site. Will it make any difference? Who knows. But not doing anything will make even less difference.

Also, I found this wonderful discussion with director Gavin Hood about his choices in making the movie and what he hopes to accomplish with it. Bravo, Gavin.

Jake's (mostly) fabulous visit with that wacky Jonathan Ross on Friday is still reverberating through the internet. Posts like this one on the YourLondon Calling blog, entitled "OMG! How cute is he?" are a reminder to me that there are still folks who had not yet succumbed to the Gyllenhaal charm. It's like a revelation to them. Yes, Jake is funny, and adorable, and sexy, and natural, and a cutie, as assorted bloggers have all declared since witnessing this interview. Welcome to my world.

Meanwhile, in case there's anyone else out there who, like the Splash blogger, didn't get it: no, Jake would not want to be a farmer if he weren't an actor. It's called humor. Very dry, deadpanned humor, delivered perfectly as most of his is. Perhaps these folks could benefit from more exposure to Jake's wit. Well, really, who wouldn't?

And we'll all get our next chance tonight when Jake returns to chat with David Letterman. Once again, live blogging is promised over at Jake Watch for those of you who don't receive U.S. broadcast television, though Prophecy Girl warns she may just end up waiting to hit "post" until it's over. Am I the only one who sees phenomenal potential in the scheduling of 50 Cent as the musical guest while Jake's there? I mean, it's not Kanye, but who knows what delicious insanity may transpire. I haven't felt like this since Christmas Eves as a kid. Bring it on, baby, I'm ready.

All photos: IHJ.

Fly-by

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 21:23:00 +0000

That warm breeze you Brits felt a bit ago was Jake Gyllenhaal as he redefined whirlwind with his sudden departure from London after less than a day's stay. Once again, I am kept in a state of mild bewilderment as I try to imagine what on earth it was in those two bags and the oblong container that Jake just had to have with him for his brief visit. Obviously it was not a fresh outfit for today's flight home.

Also, I don't know if it was the stress of his schedule, something he ate in London, or exposure to that Jordan character, but the dear boy has broken out overnight. Even Jake's pimples are more attractive than those of mere mortals. If you haven't already caught up, Wet Dark and Wild has graciously provided video of Jake's ordeal on Jonathan Ross yesterday. She's just added the green room footage, which I haven't seen yet but plan to appreciate when I get home tonight.

***

Okay, as I was saying before I was rushed out the door, I've also managed to get hold of the Entertainmentstudios.com bit that TVGuide promised would show on 10/6. It didn't, of course. Being the tenacious Gyllenhaalic that I am, I wasn't going to give up so easily, and I set a series recording on my DVR. The damn thing finally happened at 4 am Saturday, so it's been uploaded. Not a big interview, but it's Jake talking about Douglas Freeman. Hell, it's Jake, and that's enough. We are so easy. Big thanks to Stephanie from IHJ for letting me know that the first upload somehow got clipped short! All better now.

All photos: IHJ.

Jonny-on-the-spot

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 18:48:00 +0000

Absurd. I've just become giddy with the sight of what appear to be hand wipes in the side pocket of Jake's backpack. More shots of Jake strolling through Heathrow are available at the IHJ Community.

Over and over, I marvel at the strangeness of my obsession. And not just my obsession, but that of the others in my condition, as well. For example, why is it so endearing that Jake Gyllenhaal wears the same casual clothes repeatedly? I do it. You probably do it. Everyone I know does it. But for some reason we assume that a movie star has so much money to burn, and such pressure to be an icon of style or freshness, it's utterly novel that Jake should wear the same goofy shirt with the craterous neckhole that he was snapped in a few weeks ago while valet parking for coffee.

Ah, fandom. I embrace my insanity.

And thanks, Jake, for wearing those boots, too. I love those boots. I want to see those boots propped up on my coffee table. I want them tossed haphazardly under my bed.

I must have finally reached and breached my overload point, because I'm totally back to zen right now, anticipating a live blogging event tonight by JW's britpopbaby. Friday Night with Jonathan Ross begins at 10:35 GMT, which equates to 5:35 EDT, my time. I shall still be in traffic when that happens, more likely than not, but I won't miss more than a few minutes unless there's an accident on the road, and no one would have the effrontery to keep me away from something like this: the vicarious experience of a talk show in another country on another continent by frequent browser refresh. I cannot wait.

Life is weird. Weird is good. I like it.

All photos: IHJ.

Sensory overload

noreply@blogger.com (Cherita) — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 13:55:00 +0000

Every single day, I tell myself I'm going to stop spending so much damn time on Jake, and every single day, I fail. Last night while I managed to catch up on House, MD (with that Rendition spot again, yay!) and Dexter, Jake Gyllenhaal was at a premiere for Rendition in Beverly Hills. As you can see, the beard lives. In fact, the beard is once again taking on a life of its own. I love you, you rebellious, furry man. Over 100 new photos up at IHJ.

Steph's also got us some caps from the HBO First Look: Rendition that aired last night. I attempted to transfer the show from my DVR, but the resulting file had audio, no video. Possibly a copy protection issue because it's a pay channel. I was too damn tired to figure out another way last night, and by the time I get around to it, I'm sure someone will have made it available elsewhere. For all I know, they already have. (Update: Silly me, of course they have. IHJ took care of you. Get it here.)

How will I survive Rendition Week if Jake keeps popping up at random in addition to all that's scheduled? As it is, most of my day is spent in contemplation of my goals and needs as inspired by Jake. There are not enough hours in a day, not enough time in the week to get a handle on what it is my brain is trying to tell me. Do I want to take a whack at being a writer? Or am I willing to keep working some job or other and just hope that my interests can be satisfied outside the nine-to-five routine? As it stands, my current job has become nothing more than a nuisance I endure to receive pay. That's pretty bad, and I'm not happy about it. But with Jake scrambling my brain, I'm having a hard time understanding what I do want. All I'm clear on is wanting him.

All photos: IHJ. Nod for post title to BirdGirl.