If the preceding figure looks like a cat walked across the keyboard, it’s time to move “Me and You and Everyone We Know” to the top of your Netflix queue. The film’s simple charm won the vote of countless critics, yet others, Academy Awards panel included, seem to have stopped at its rated-R warning: “Contains disturbing sexual content involving children” (and not of the “Mystic River,” Oscar-sensitive variety). All because of a disarmingly innocent scene in which a bored eight-year-old engages in some poop talk in an adult chat room. Those who cried outrage at this scene may have lost kid-vision, but not Miranda July, a performance artist turned brilliant writer/actress/director for her first movie. If anything, she’s managed to stay a child herself (in the best sense) and grace us, for the duration of her film, with restored 20/20 vision. But it’s not all about the kids — her motley crew of L.A. residents spans the stages of life, from precocious teenagers to insecure adults to love-torn old folks. They’re just people trying to make connections in a disconnected city: same old story, completely fresh eyes. The resulting series of vignettes is at times hilarious, wistful and excruciatingly real — July deserved nominations for best director and best script, and a hands-down win for best film. But, shit happens.