This morning I woke up because a loon was shouting over the lake next to my parent’s house. I don’t think the sound of the loon itself woke me up, but the way it melded with the dream I was having did, because I came to mumbling crankily ‘someone get that fucking loon a towel already.’ Sleeping with me must be an adventure in surrealism. Beautiful sound, though. The loon's call is a beautiful sound, that is. The beauty of the sound of sleeping with me is a more subjective affair.
I am generally cranky these days. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know that sounds like a complaint, and I reckon it is, but really I’m just trying to figure out how I can work out properly to build up the muscle mass required to carry the world on my shoulders. I have no problem with the world being on my shoulders as long as I can carry it comfortably. It’s better than me thinking it’s up my ass, I suppose, or it being on the shoulders of an idiot.
I have nothing non-personal to write today so I’ll see you after the cottage – my brain needs some sorting. It always does, around a North Bay run. One thing’s more or less for sure – I’m going to have to make an England run sooner rather than later.
venerdì, settembre 01, 2006
giovedì, agosto 31, 2006
Complicity Redux
I avoid the personal, but here’s something personal in the extreme.
Last night I was biking home from Luke Duke's after we dined with his family and Magnum and my mum, and I was thinking how it would just be ludicrous if there was a better family than them, and thinking how nice it is to be enjoying my man and all, and then the moon rode low and curvy in the cityscape viewed over Riverdale Park. I bellowed at Figaro, “look at the moon!” Pointing. Not slowing down. Just going. Thinking, should I slow down and catch this with my crap little camera phone? And then thinking, as Fig ooed and ahhhed – no – it’s enough that we both saw it.
In Singing Neanderthals, Steven Mithen wrote wonderfully of the physical and chemical power of harmony and rhythm – singing and dancing – to create a real bond between people. I’ll extend it totally unscientifically here and say sharing beautiful things has the power to create, not only a bond between people, but a bond between each person and the world.
Motherfuckers, I’ve never been paying so much attention.
Not much else to say today. Off to the North tonight and hoping for the continuation of the pleasant weather. Mostly finished Kinzer book. Brief, dismissive review to come.
Last night I was biking home from Luke Duke's after we dined with his family and Magnum and my mum, and I was thinking how it would just be ludicrous if there was a better family than them, and thinking how nice it is to be enjoying my man and all, and then the moon rode low and curvy in the cityscape viewed over Riverdale Park. I bellowed at Figaro, “look at the moon!” Pointing. Not slowing down. Just going. Thinking, should I slow down and catch this with my crap little camera phone? And then thinking, as Fig ooed and ahhhed – no – it’s enough that we both saw it.
In Singing Neanderthals, Steven Mithen wrote wonderfully of the physical and chemical power of harmony and rhythm – singing and dancing – to create a real bond between people. I’ll extend it totally unscientifically here and say sharing beautiful things has the power to create, not only a bond between people, but a bond between each person and the world.
Motherfuckers, I’ve never been paying so much attention.
Not much else to say today. Off to the North tonight and hoping for the continuation of the pleasant weather. Mostly finished Kinzer book. Brief, dismissive review to come.
mercoledì, agosto 30, 2006
Devastated by liquor
En couple, no less. Adds a new dimension to co-habitation. I have nothing to say this morning, except I want some hash browns and have no energy to make or buy them. If anybody helpful is reading, please ship some over . . . thank you . . . in advance recompense, please enjoy this fucking, fucking criminally funny Channel 102 offering. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Doctor Miracles.
martedì, agosto 29, 2006
Sister, when I've raised hell, you'll know it!
Remember that show I couldn't stop watching, Deadwood? Have you ever checked it out? If so, click here and prepare to wet yourself.
Mummy gets home from England tomorrow, nobody is quite sure when. I'm glad. She'll be able to relax a little more here - we can take care of her some. And then Figaro and I will go up North with her and my brother the next day, ending up eventually in Lady's cottage. I miss J*Fish, I miss his bitch too, and they'll be there so hurrah - I'm looking forward to it as much as a city girl like me can look forward to a cottage trip. Which turns out to be a lot. I don't really want a cottage for myself - seems like a bit of a space-squander - but think I really want a farm. Not a money-making farm. Just a few hectares where I can have a couple of goats, a pony, and some ducks. It can probably be made to happen.
Anyways, a little while ago we watched Miller's Crossing. Holy fuck, what a great movie. I like it as much as Raising Arizona, which I'd consider dating if it had a working dick. I love the Coen brothers, I'll admit it flat out. I mean, Miller's Crossing was 1990 and The Man Who Wasn't There was 2001, and there was no slip in quality that I could see, no surrender of authenticity, of duty to the material, of making every line and every shot count without making the film feel miserably laboured. And to be able to do that in comedy OR noir OR both at the same time! Fucking adorable! It makes it harder to explain Intolerable Cruelty, though. Unless I accept the voice inside telling me Catherine Zeta-Jones is a crap actress and George Clooney would mug himself to death if not forcibly restrained.
Anyways, Miller's Crossing was intensely good, the actors were flawless, and Gabriel Byrne used to be the tastiest fucking treat in cinema, apparently. God, I love a nice big nose. So check it out if you're in the mood to brood and laugh at the same time.
Mummy gets home from England tomorrow, nobody is quite sure when. I'm glad. She'll be able to relax a little more here - we can take care of her some. And then Figaro and I will go up North with her and my brother the next day, ending up eventually in Lady's cottage. I miss J*Fish, I miss his bitch too, and they'll be there so hurrah - I'm looking forward to it as much as a city girl like me can look forward to a cottage trip. Which turns out to be a lot. I don't really want a cottage for myself - seems like a bit of a space-squander - but think I really want a farm. Not a money-making farm. Just a few hectares where I can have a couple of goats, a pony, and some ducks. It can probably be made to happen.
Anyways, a little while ago we watched Miller's Crossing. Holy fuck, what a great movie. I like it as much as Raising Arizona, which I'd consider dating if it had a working dick. I love the Coen brothers, I'll admit it flat out. I mean, Miller's Crossing was 1990 and The Man Who Wasn't There was 2001, and there was no slip in quality that I could see, no surrender of authenticity, of duty to the material, of making every line and every shot count without making the film feel miserably laboured. And to be able to do that in comedy OR noir OR both at the same time! Fucking adorable! It makes it harder to explain Intolerable Cruelty, though. Unless I accept the voice inside telling me Catherine Zeta-Jones is a crap actress and George Clooney would mug himself to death if not forcibly restrained.
Anyways, Miller's Crossing was intensely good, the actors were flawless, and Gabriel Byrne used to be the tastiest fucking treat in cinema, apparently. God, I love a nice big nose. So check it out if you're in the mood to brood and laugh at the same time.
lunedì, agosto 28, 2006
Overblow
So I’m reading Stephen Kinzer’s Overthrow: America’s Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq, and it’s pretty whatever and all of that. This is from the author who wrote All the Shah’s Men: An American Coup and the Roots of Middle East Terror, which I unqualifiedly enjoyed a few months ago. Overthrow has the same themes in it, about how clumsy regime changes are worse than no regime changes in terms of advantages for the dominant culture, not just morally but in terms of physical and economic security.
I guess the reason Overthrow isn’t all that fascinating to me is that Kinzer’s language does get a little emotional and moralist-y while pushing this point when I want cold hard facts, talking heads, things to beat down the unrighteous with, et cetera. That girly stuff was fine in All the Shah’s Men since there's more space for point-and-click facts in a dedicated book, but Overthrow is a 322-page survey of more than a dozen regime changes and there’s not the room for Kinzer to talk about American’s great and abused moral qualities as much as he does. Then it feels messy when such an ambitious project needs surgical precision.
Anyways, maybe it’s my problem for starting with All the Shah’s Men and then going back to a more general book. It has struck me Overthrow would be a good primer specifically for Americans who hadn’t been educated to figure out why essentially everyone kind of hates them. And I am learning new things, of course. Now I understand Puerto Rico and Hawaii’s relationship with the mainland United States a little better, and the mess that was United Fruit, and things like that. Anyways. It’s worth a read on a rainy afternoon, I guess.
I guess the reason Overthrow isn’t all that fascinating to me is that Kinzer’s language does get a little emotional and moralist-y while pushing this point when I want cold hard facts, talking heads, things to beat down the unrighteous with, et cetera. That girly stuff was fine in All the Shah’s Men since there's more space for point-and-click facts in a dedicated book, but Overthrow is a 322-page survey of more than a dozen regime changes and there’s not the room for Kinzer to talk about American’s great and abused moral qualities as much as he does. Then it feels messy when such an ambitious project needs surgical precision.
Anyways, maybe it’s my problem for starting with All the Shah’s Men and then going back to a more general book. It has struck me Overthrow would be a good primer specifically for Americans who hadn’t been educated to figure out why essentially everyone kind of hates them. And I am learning new things, of course. Now I understand Puerto Rico and Hawaii’s relationship with the mainland United States a little better, and the mess that was United Fruit, and things like that. Anyways. It’s worth a read on a rainy afternoon, I guess.
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