attempt at sundries update

Clearly, I'm still not all that caught up on things.

Kali and I saw the new Alomovodar last night, Volver, which is good and sweet and wacky and then went somewhere that would be fine if it weren't colored by a really REALLY famous cinema moment on the same subject, which just sort of pulls it apart. Nice performance. Worth renting.

Still haven't written about Snakes, I know. There were snakes! And despite the original Slytherin concept, everyone in costume, other than me, was in Griffy robes. Still, it was awesome, as were the looks we got ont eh street. I think the collective favourite was from teh very very gay gentleman who seemed ready to come apart at teh seams as he battled his own internal attraction/repulsion on the subject. Also, lizard with blue tongue, excessively charming children with an overwhelming need to ask me lizard questions (hello, I'm dressed like Snape, WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?), hall of dead stuffed things, whale! and finally meeting the very game melebeth for the first time.

Amanda and I ate lots of fabulous sushi while she was here, played in Japanese toy stores, went to museums and generally tried to avoid making her feet bleed too much. Also, the world should be thankful that neither of us is inclined to run RPGS. I chatted with her about the Draco/Wednesday Addams crossover bunny that originated with Kali, and who knows, I might just write it. Because they are so cute, and thirteen and surly!

Must. sleep. now.

My Regency tailcoat, btw, may be here as soon as tomorrow.

And, while you may have thought newyorkers couldn't get more annoying, now it looks like someone is trying to score heroin on it.

(no subject)

I'm trying to use and understand Digg right now, as AC is having a contest where you can win big gift certificates for getting things on the homepage there. Mostly I feel confused. Which I think means that once again I am no longer technologically agile. Ah well.

I've been eating like an idiot lately -- going from avoiding thigns with even the slightest chance of gluten contamination to taking some pretty stupid risks (and losing). I suppose this is a natural evolution of dealing with delia, but I need to stop doing it, as I just don't feel that well.

Oh and yes, I am perfectly aware that the fact I dressed like a big ol's freak at a lizard show at a museum the other day probably also makes me a big ol' hypocrite.

St. Jude stories

In the back, left-hand corner of St. Pat's (facing the altar) is a little shrine to St. Jude. In the pews there, people leave their xeroxes about how to say whatever version of the St. Jude novena they are doing. If you go there a lot, you can sort of watch the ebb and flow of these -- which ones are popular, which ones are spreading like chain letters -- based largely on the quality of the copies. It makes me wonder about the people who bring them and their prayers. One person clearly laments the poor quality of most of the novena xeroxes and has retyped theirs so it could be copied cleanly. Another has just set the darkness on their copy maching very light so as to clean off a lot of the dirt on the copy. Some people fold theirs precisely in fours or halves, others just leave sheets on the pews. You can tell who is uncertain of the ritual, who is rushed, who might be young and who might have older and shaking hands. I wonder if they are Catholic, how they first heard of St. Jude, and if any of them did the Math-a-thon for the children's hospital when they were little. I hope they get what they need and wonder who else studies, as I seem to, this odd, silent and necessarily speculative narrative.

In my own personal news of causes almost despaired of -- money has once again come through at the Germans, alleviating a bit of Great Big Dread.

Jericho

When I was a kid and The Day After aired on TV, they sent us home with notes for our parents about how we were all supposed to watch it and discuss it with our families. I remember Elyse had really bad nightmares from it and was finally more afraid of something than math.

Personally, I don't remember watching it, and maybe we didn't. But I do remember reading lots of books about nuclear war -- from age-inappropriate things like Hiroshima to things for children, like Z for Zacharias. Also, 1,001 Cranes; that was why I learnt origami, but could never master that troublesome figure. After school with my friends sometimes we would talk about our dreams. When I dream I have radiation poisoning, my fingers go numb first.

This is what we were afraid of in the 80s, and while it was handed down to us from the adults in our lives, it was also a secret land dwelled in only by children. We were small and clever and if a nuclear war came, all the adults would die and then we'd be the adults and because we weren't as good at certain things as adults -- like following rules, we would do what was necessary to survive. Sure, growing up was going to suck, but at least if nuclear war came we wouldn't have to wait and wait. Our school cafeteria was also a nuclear fallout shelter -- hardly unusual, I think pretty much any basement is, I don't really know, but ours had a big sign at the bottom of the stairs to it, so every day when I'd pay fifty cents for a Hawaian Punch, I'd stand under that sign and think about how long the sodas would last.

Tonight I caught the last fifteen minutes of Jericho, which was pretty much entirely of the mold of my childhood and its nuclear imagination. For a long time, I just loved things like this. I do love a good disaster movie -- meteors striking the earth, stuff like that. This may even be my gateway drug on the Harry Potter front -- bring on the war! and all that.

Jericho, though, what I saw of it, to my surprise, made me angry. I guess maybe because I watched people get afraid this time, or maybe because the show wants us to be, or hopes we are enough to watch it -- I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm older and a whole lot of stuff that seemed like it could be an adventure when I was a kid, I'm pretty sure wouldn't be now. Or maybe I know I'm just not quite small enough to be the perfect post-nuclear disaster theif and scavenger anymore. I don't know, but it was strange, and so entirely a reaction of being my very particular age.