![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
- day 1 of the late night work? Sucked. But not as much as it could have.
- am wearing BPAL Whitechapel today. It makes me happy. Whether that's because citrus is always cheering or because my brain thinks it smells like Lucius Malfoy... well, who knows.
- The Superbowl! Because of this totally batshit insane ongoing thread on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellen_kushner's LJ about Tom Brady (um, he's the St Vier of football. Don't ask. I don't know. I don't follow football and I can barely explain it to myself much less you), I'm sort of vaguely amused by the whole thing, and wish there were a fannish Superbowl party for Patty and I to go to, even if I'm really only in it for the ads.
- I need to fill out my DragonCon guest app.
- And finish my proposals for Terminus.
- And finish my grad school app.
- Fencing tonight.
- The Heath Ledger thing is really sad and about as shocking as big star stuff gets, I think in large part because he didn't seem like that to New Yorkers (hey, in this town, everyone is your neighbor).
When I was in Australia, I had a spectacular night in what is considered the town's most exclusive sushi bar. I went alone, got drunk on absinthe, talked to the most famous non-Japanese sushi chef in the world and swooned at two unknown men doing a major film deal down at the corner of the table. I'd come to Australia because of some weird fantasy narrative about Baz Luhrmann, and this moment was filling the gap just fine.
Back at school the next day I rambled about its fabulosity to my fellow students, and one, a television star from Singapore, decided that we should go dine there again with one of her best friends from college (she had studied in Perth).
I was less enamoured of that evening in a lot of ways, having to be present in the world of fact more than the world of fiction or hope, until she leaned over to me and said, "who is that man sitting behind us?"
Restaurants in Sydney are all about the dress codes (the girl from Sigapore had actually gotten turned away at the door a week earlier because she was wearing jeans, $200 jeans, but still jeans), probably because everyone would just wear really expensive beach-wear everywhere if they weren't, and here was this guy with a big scruffy beard and cargo shorts, eating alone at a tiny table right behind our seats at the sushi bar.
It was Heath Ledger.
"I've seen a real star now," she said, breathless.
"You are a real star," I reminded her. Sometimes, people would recognize her on the street in Sydney, and I know she'd been on magazine covers back home.
"But not like that."
"I don't think he's a star like that here either," I hissed, giddy and a bit stupid.
She nodded, and that was that.
I didn't know the guy, never talked to him, although I have plenty of friends who knew him or have worked with him or whatever. But it is talismans and serendipity that have long taught me how to breathe, so aside from thinking his talent was significant and his projects interesting, he was good luck to me in a sushi bar once, and it's silly and it's strange, but it matters to me. And so I'm sad, not just for all the people I should be so for in this, and for the craft or the industry or whatever, but for me a little too. It's a bum deal, and I can still taste and feel all those perfect nights full of stupid moments only I would call secrets back on the other side of the world.
- am wearing BPAL Whitechapel today. It makes me happy. Whether that's because citrus is always cheering or because my brain thinks it smells like Lucius Malfoy... well, who knows.
- The Superbowl! Because of this totally batshit insane ongoing thread on
ellen_kushner's LJ about Tom Brady (um, he's the St Vier of football. Don't ask. I don't know. I don't follow football and I can barely explain it to myself much less you), I'm sort of vaguely amused by the whole thing, and wish there were a fannish Superbowl party for Patty and I to go to, even if I'm really only in it for the ads.- I need to fill out my DragonCon guest app.
- And finish my proposals for Terminus.
- And finish my grad school app.
- Fencing tonight.
- The Heath Ledger thing is really sad and about as shocking as big star stuff gets, I think in large part because he didn't seem like that to New Yorkers (hey, in this town, everyone is your neighbor).
When I was in Australia, I had a spectacular night in what is considered the town's most exclusive sushi bar. I went alone, got drunk on absinthe, talked to the most famous non-Japanese sushi chef in the world and swooned at two unknown men doing a major film deal down at the corner of the table. I'd come to Australia because of some weird fantasy narrative about Baz Luhrmann, and this moment was filling the gap just fine.
Back at school the next day I rambled about its fabulosity to my fellow students, and one, a television star from Singapore, decided that we should go dine there again with one of her best friends from college (she had studied in Perth).
I was less enamoured of that evening in a lot of ways, having to be present in the world of fact more than the world of fiction or hope, until she leaned over to me and said, "who is that man sitting behind us?"
Restaurants in Sydney are all about the dress codes (the girl from Sigapore had actually gotten turned away at the door a week earlier because she was wearing jeans, $200 jeans, but still jeans), probably because everyone would just wear really expensive beach-wear everywhere if they weren't, and here was this guy with a big scruffy beard and cargo shorts, eating alone at a tiny table right behind our seats at the sushi bar.
It was Heath Ledger.
"I've seen a real star now," she said, breathless.
"You are a real star," I reminded her. Sometimes, people would recognize her on the street in Sydney, and I know she'd been on magazine covers back home.
"But not like that."
"I don't think he's a star like that here either," I hissed, giddy and a bit stupid.
She nodded, and that was that.
I didn't know the guy, never talked to him, although I have plenty of friends who knew him or have worked with him or whatever. But it is talismans and serendipity that have long taught me how to breathe, so aside from thinking his talent was significant and his projects interesting, he was good luck to me in a sushi bar once, and it's silly and it's strange, but it matters to me. And so I'm sad, not just for all the people I should be so for in this, and for the craft or the industry or whatever, but for me a little too. It's a bum deal, and I can still taste and feel all those perfect nights full of stupid moments only I would call secrets back on the other side of the world.
