(no subject)

Fics are thwarting me left and right and if I don't go to bed right now, I'm going to write something long and agonizing about Severus and Narcissa.

herbal preparations class

This was fabulous and a lot of information packed into a very small space (which is good, because getting up there is a hassle when the 4 train isn't running and I didn't really a lot myself enough time because of it, and then the bus didn't come and I had to do the 20+ minute walk from the station in twelve and did (something I never could have done pre-fencing, my thighs are DYING)).

We covered making teas, decoctions, vinegar and alcohol tinctures and oils with both fresh and dried plant material. This included when to harvest/how to select dried material and processes for each. We made a vinegar tincture and also learned how to make oils into lip balms. We also covered the uses of a range of common plants and it was weird how many of those topics happened to be very, very specifically useful in my world (i.e., dandelion contains more potassium than bananas, and since I _loathe_ banana and really need more potassium in my life with the current physical regimine, truthfully, I'm more than happy to just drink the nasty tea instead; similarly things designed to help digestion of fats and improve gall bladder function (the first part being very relevant to me with celiac, the second part being very relevant to all sorts of people I know)).

The teacher was friendly, funny, specific and blunt about bullshit, and I'm definitely going to be taking more classes with her.

Also, amazingly, the class had about 15 people in it from all walks of life. It was so shocking to me that it wasn't all women, all hippies or whatever. Multi-everything!

http://www.herbalbear.com/schedule.html

While, unfortunately, there isn't really enough time for me to prep nasty bottles of things for various people for Christmas (needs about six weeks), various people should feel warned that at some future gift-giving occassion, they will, in fact, be receiving nasty bottles of things from me.

fic!

This was the thing kicking my ass last night. And now it's done. Yay. A lot of work for a little story. Swordspoint.

http://community.livejournal.com/_riverside/10129.html

( Read more... )

Bobby

This is the best movie I've seen thus far this year. It may be the best movie I've seen in several years. It's that good, and Emilio Estevez directed it -- who knew.

It's not a biopic of Bobby Kennedy, rather it's a day in the life of the Ambassador Hotel on teh day he was shot. We've seen movies like this before -- ensemble casts, disparate stories that come together, but this one stands out, and not just for the subject matter.

Why?

First, it's not too neat. All the stories don't converge, strictly speaking. Not everything is resolved and each seperate little drama doesn't get a happy ending in spite of the tragedy of the night (i.e., the girl who prays her angry parents come to her wedding anyway? They don't. The guy who really wants to take his dad to a ball game? Can't get off work.) This gives the film realness and weight instead of diminishing its tale through too much cuteness or synchronicity.

Second, the pacing is atonishing. The film never, ever drags and yet feels like an exhilerating four hours, eventhough it's over in less than two.

Third, performances and casting. Perfection.

Four, Bobby Kennedy as himself. Other than an actor we see once or twice from the back or out of focus, all RFK moments are from historical footage. And it never feels like it was a struggle to construct the film this way -- there was plenty of material, just the right material.

Five, race. The film makes no effort to make the racial tensions and reoslutions of the time more palatable to the modern audience. What is hopeful is also uncomfortable, both in the contructed parts of the film and in the historical footage.

Six, while being a movie about the end of things, about things dying, it makes a distinction between losses than are good and losses that are bad, thus naturalizing death and making the story of the film seem both bigger and smaller than it is. How can a film that ends in gunshots be so gentle?

Seven, this film knows good writing when it sees/hears it and to get these massive chunks of RFK speeches, completely organically woven into the film is just amazing. As someone who has never particularly dwelled on or been interested in the sixties, this changed my mind about those feelings, and shocked me -- hearing such simple human messages about what it is to be human, to be comrades in arms, to be brothers. It makes all the firebreathing religious insanity of my lifetime seem even more bizarre. Don't these people hear themselves? Where's the fucking love?

Eight, the film recognizes that even in a film about a great man, somtimes the great symbolism of a moment belongs to the ordinary and the unknown. THere's this incredible scene that happens between Lawrence Fishburne's character and Freddy Rodriguez about "The Once and Future King" which is so fucking fantastic I can't even describe it.

I literally cried nonstop for the last 30 minutes of this. It should get both a best picture nomination and a best director nod.

If you see one movie this year, this should probably be it.

meanwhile

I have a question:

Would someone growing up in Yorkshire in the late 60s/early 70s have been more likely to have been exposed to cock fighting or dog fighting?