a fool's musings

Boreas by Waterhouse
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content

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the five Ws, or, all about me

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current mood: current mood

"pathological and unbalanced"

Items of Interest

    Music
  • Walk On - U2
  • Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
  • If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar
  • Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet
  • Town Called Malice - The Jam
  • One - U2
  • The Space Between - DMB
    Books
  • Lord of the Rings
  • Catch-22
  • The Neely Trilogy
  • Absalom! Absalom!
  • Possession: A Romance
  • Foucault's Pendulum
  • Dreamhouse
  • LA Confidential
  • I Capture the Castle
  • Sandman
  • Waking the Moon

    Shows
  • Angel

    •
  • Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns)

    •
  • Alias

    •
  • West Wing

    •
  • The Simpsons

    •

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2002-06-18 - 9:49 p.m.

blogger insider, v5.0

I was at training, and when I got home, I had a headache that could fell a horse.

So I went to sleep instead of doing laundry.

I'm going to run out of clothes soon, and I don't think, "I have no clothes!" is a good excuse to miss work, unfortunately.

Since I still have the headache, and I'm bubbling over with incoherent Buffy-love from watching PG/WSWB (Fave line *ever*: "If they hurt Willow, I'll kill you." ::shivery Xander goodness::), I'll just let Stacey do all the work for me. *g*

This round of blogger insider, I was matched with Stacey and here are his answers to my questions:

1. How much of "the real you" do you think people get from reading your blog?
I'd say 60-70%, I'm not so much into navel-gazing that I have to express my every thought or interest. I find that as my life has settled into a more conventional routine over the last 3 months it's gotten a lot more boring! I'm surrounded by interesting people doing interesting things (and occasionally doing interesting things myself), but I'm trying to strike a balance between me and those in my life, y'know? There is some self-censorship, most of the people reading my blog are close friends and wouldn't want them to think I'm airing their bidness, nor do I like to write a lot of negative things 'cause that's not how I'm living.

2. What keeps your interest in someone else's blog?
How real they are...How willing they are to express their interests and thoughts. And if they don't write about themselves so much, how interesting their links are.

3. Do you think we are all really only six clicks [degrees of separation] from each other on the internet?
I don't think so...there a lot of people in the world with no web access! LOL

4. I see you're a Star Trek fan. Which incarnation do you like best?
Deep Space 9. I loved the political intrigue. Too many Next Generation plots were rehashes of the original and Voyager just stunk. I thought Commander Sisko was the kind of guy I'd like to work for-a very patient, compassionate and passionate man with an awesome sense of responsibility. Plus, he wasn't afraid to kick ass when he had to.

5. Do you believe Kirk and Spock were secretly lovers?
Nah, I think it's possible for men to love each other without anything sexual going on. They'd been through a lot together and thus had a tight bond, y'know?

6. Star Trek or Star Wars? Why?
Star Trek. I was about 10 or so when Star Wars came out. I remember liking the bad guys, Darth Vader, et al. so much more than the rebels. Maybe because I'm a power-obsessed Leo. Later on, I began wondering why The Empire was cast as the heavy-aside from blowing up Alderaan you don't really see how they are oppressing anyone. Maybe that will become clearer when Episode 3 comes out, but at the time, I thought Luke was milquetoast. Another thing is by the time "Return of the Jedi" came out, I felt that movie was totally aimed at kids and the tale took on a layer of cheesiness that I couldn't stomach. I like my stories a little dark...as you can probably tell. Star Trek had cute moments, but not so many-and tried to tackle serious themes in a serious way. The sets and special effects look cheesy now, but the storytelling wasn't...

7. You've named your scooter. Ships, cars, bikes - men always name their vehicles. Why?
Adam's job was to name the animals...maybe it just is ingrained in men? On the other hand, I think it's just as curious that women don't name things-although my ex-girlfriend told me she just named her private bits (she seemed to get a HUGE kick out of it!) I named my scooter Pearl, because it's cream-colored (for now) but also because it's more than a hunk of metal to me. I enjoy riding it. It has certain quirks and issues, just like a person. And if something is going to get you to work each day, cost you money maintaining and upgrading it and occasionally break your heart-it might as well have a name!

8. I see you live in Seattle. Have you been there long? If so, has it changed over the past ten years, first with the mainstreaming of "grunge" and then with the shift to boyband pop? I mean, did that whole run on the "Seattle sound" leave any permanent marks?
I was born in Seattle and have lived here all but two years of my life. Seattle has changed quite a bit, but those changes began long before grunge came along. I grew up during the "Boeing bust" of the late '60's and early '70's. A time of economic downturn. Seattle was a lot more blue-collar back then, a lot grittier and smaller. But there were those who felt the town could be a national and international player and worked hard to make it so.

I don't think I personally noticed those changes until Seattle started showing up on "Best Places To Live" polls in the mid 80's. Real estate prices started going up and there were some real pitched battles over just how much new development we could and should absorb. Then the "grunge" thing hit. I don't know if you've seen the movie "Hype," but all that was happening right around the time I started going out to see live music. I wasn't so much into the bands that "made it" as I was the ones you could still see every month for $5 at The Crocodile, The Central Tavern, The Off Ramp and RCKCNDY (Rockcandy). I look back on those days as bittersweet, because I was happy to see the local scene getting recognition for doing something cool. But then you got to witness firsthand the kind of cultural strip-mining that corporations do in their search for the Next Big Thing. The music got "packaged" to make it easier to sell and then it was everywhere! Hordes of carpetbaggers and wannabes from all over the country. And suddenly my friends who couldn't be arsed to listen to Soundgarden in '87 were raiding my record collection! And what about all that crap about "Generation X?" I'm glad that whole scene is over now.

Anyway, that whole thing was far less frightening than the Invasion Of The Geeks during the Internet Boom. You had all these smart-assed kids who coded by day and trolled the clubs at night with lots of disposable cash. There was a time when most of the people I knew were fishermen, carpenters, construction workers, who were from around here. They were replaced by all these people from elsewhere with strange and esoteric jobs, complaining that Seattle didn't have this or that.

But they seem to be on the way out too.

I love it here. At most, I'd consider living in Portland or Vancouver but that about it. I hope I don't get priced out of my hometown...

BTW-I am an admitted N'Sync fan-so there!

9. You mention you'd never go to Safeco Field for political reasons. Why is that? Are you normally a socially conscious consumer? Does it limit your sphere of...shopping?
Not really. The reason I won't go to Safeco Field is fairly simple. During the 80's Seattle's government made a lot of sweetheart deals to attract businesses to downtown, for fear (a dubious one, IMHO) we'd wind up like Detroit. The Mariners (and the Seahawks) made a lot of noise about the Kingdome being inadequate to fulfill their needs and threatened again and again to leave town if the city didn't so something about it. Finally, a measure to tear down the 'Dome and build a new stadium went to a vote-and lost. But the State Legislature decided to circumvent the Will Of The People and raise over $400 million dollars through a tax on hotels and restaurants. A lot of people I know were OK with this-but to me, Safeco Field represents everything that is wrong with our democracy. It shows that where powerful moneyed interests are concerned, your vote means nothing. And by the time Paul Allen came around with his hand out for a new stadium, I ceased to care. At least he managed to buy a YES vote for that. So now Seattle has close to a billion dollars in new sporting palaces. Meanwhile, I weave all over the road on my scooter trying to avoid all the potholes...*sigh*.

10. Skinny Elvis or fat Elvis?
Either kicks the crap outta 90% of the wack-ass pop-punk I see on MTV2 these days. Let Eve 6 write something like "Motel Matches", then I'll be Impressed! And isn't Declan a much nicer name?
It is...it is.

So there you have it. Lots of interesting stuff. My answers will at some point be up in Stacey's blog, but I was late, so they're not there just yet. *g*

Back to the regularly scheduled fannish whining tomorrow. Possibly with some Buffy thoughts.

~victoria

link

[current mood: headachy]
[current music: Something in the Night]
[random quote: Nothing is forgotten or forgiven when it's your last time around]

~*~

2002-06-17 - 11:46 p.m.

On Origin #6 (spoilers)

Finally got my copy of Origin #6 [and my dollar. Thanks, Pete!], and I've been having some thoughts.

Not many, and not really profound thoughts, but thoughts nevertheless...

Consider this your spoiler warning and your spoiler space.

Turn back now if you don't want to know.

S

P

O

I

L

I

E

S

Okay, so Logan kills Rose. Claws through the chest.

Familiar much?

I don't know how much continuity the movieverse and the comicverse are sharing, but goddammit, don't take away that special moment for Logan and Rogue by having it be an echo of something that happened earlier.

Though, on the other hand, Rose was apparently the "love of his life", at least up until that point, so...

draw your own conclusions on the similarity of the scenario.

Logan killing the women he loves seems to be something of a theme.

I like that Rogue is so far the only survivor of this little exercise in melodrama. It means they're *meant to be together.*

Yeah, I'm a shipper. I can turn any wacky occurrence into support for my chosen 'ship. *G*

I would like confirmation that Dog is really Sabretooth, though I think we're supposed to think that.

If so, it's interesting how Wolverine ends up with Sabretooth's birthname, and Sabretooth ends up as someone completely different.

Devil Doll has some interesting thoughts on the incorporation of the Origin stuff into the current Wolverine storyline. 'Ware spoilers for Wolverine #176 before you click, though.

~victoria

link

[current mood: sleepy]
[current music: silence]
[random quote: I'm the best there is at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice.]

~*~

2002-06-17 - 5:22 p.m.

Clexy ficlet

Livia has issued The Ray Bradbury Title Challenge as a follow up to the highly successful X-Title Challenge, and well, since i've been enthusing about my favorite ever short story, All Summer in a Day by Ray Bradbury, this kinda demanded to be written.

It's very wanky and experimental in style sort of, so the places where there's no punctuation and it seems like there should be? That's deliberate.

It's kind of self-indulgent navel-gazing, and heavy-handed with the symbolism to boot, but...

italics indicate memories

All Summer In a Day

Clark lay in the grass. This was it, the end of life as he knew it.

He watched from a distance as the trucks rolled away from the farm. He knew he should be there, be the pillar of strength for his mother, but he wanted his freedom, his childhood, to last just a few moments longer.

Everything Jonathan had worked for -- gone, lost in the weakness of what had been his greatest strength. His heart had given out one morning as he'd been working in the fields.

The sun glinted off the fields, giving everything a greenish gold glaze. Clark tried to soak it all in.

He closed his eyes and remembered

First kiss with Chloe in the barn in eight grade.

Staring at Lana through the telescope night after night, dreaming of something he could never have, and didn't want once he'd gotten it.

Saving Lex on the riverbank. Starting the dance of lies and half-truths that led to this day.

Playing Nintendo with Pete.

Unmasking meteor mutants.

Chloe's smile lighting up the room.

Fencing with Lex after Lex's decision to stay in Smallville.

Lex's kiss sending lightning along his veins, the feel of his scalp cool and slick under Clark's hands. Tentative fumblings on the old couch in the bar, followed up with Lex's more practiced hands at the Castle, away from the prying eyes of parents and friends.

His hand drifted to his crotch, and his eyes snapped open.

He wasn't going to lie here and jerk-off while the bank foreclosed on his house, his future, his family.

But the thought was oh-so-appealing. One last hurrah, let his childhood go out with a bang, and he could hear Lex groaning at the pun.

Lex.

His mother had demanded his word that he wouldn't call Lex back to save them from this. He knew -- they both knew -- that Lex would save the farm, save the family, but it would be contrary to Jonathan's wishes, and Martha at least wanted to see her husband's wishes fulfilled, even at the expense of her home, and her son's.

Clark didn't, couldn't understand it. And he'd said so, time and again over the past week. At the hospital. The funeral parlor. The church and the graveyard.

This morning he'd left the house before they could have the conversation again.

Lex would be only too happy to save the farm, Mom.

Lex would be only too happy to spite his father, she would say.

Isn't that what Dad would have wanted, to finally get back at Lionel Luthor through his only son?

She would purse her lips and turn away, eyes filled with tears and he knew he was right, but she'd promised and he'd promised and a Kent never breaks his word, son.

He could hear his father's voice.

Fathers and sons were what it all came down to, and his mother simply couldn't understand that.

So Clark lay in the grass, awaiting the end of the summer of his life,

end

Let me know whatcha think!

Damn, I've been writing today. Go me! *g*

~victoria

link

[current mood: creative/productive]
[current music: Under Pressure - Bowie w/ Queen]
[random quote: Well you wouldn't even know a diamond if you held it in your hand the things you think are precious I can't understand]

~*~

2002-06-17 - 1:15 p.m.

Liar's Poker

I have no idea what I'm going to do with this.

It came to me on the train this morning, possibly the result of one too many late night viewings of Breakfast at Tiffany's coupled with the age-old, "Make her/him hate you" trope I most recently saw in Moulin Rouge.

I have no idea what comes before, though I'm fairly sure I know what comes after.

Unless... DD - Full Moon Meetings? Could this be an ending there, or do you want that in moonlight?

I'm just a sucker for big emotional scenes in the rain. What can I say? I like the pathetic fallacy.

Anyhow, I don't know quite where this will turn up, but I'm sure it will eventually.

Liar's Poker

They faced each other in the rain.

"I can't do this anymore, kid. You deserve better. You always have."

"Bullshit."

"Kid--"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Logan. I'm a woman. And I'm in love with you. Dammit, can't you see that?"

He closed his eyes, turned away from her.

"Or don't you want to see it?" she taunted, running her hands over her body, the light summer dress she wore clinging to every curve, leaving nothing to his imagination. Not that he needed imagination. His hands and lips had mapped every curve and hollow -- and then he'd spent nights on the road reliving in technicolor detail every inch of her body.

He turned back. "Marie. I see it." <-If you only knew...-> "You're young. You're beautiful."

She talked over him, not letting him finish. "I can't touch or be touched. Ever. I'm learning to live with that. I'm broken." She was almost sobbing and he could feel his resolve wavering.

"You're not broken," he growled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "I'm the one who's broken, who can never be fixed. You could have anyone you wanted. Any man would be proud to have you."

"But I want you," she whispered, and while she might try to pass it off as the rain, he knew those were tears streaming down her face. "Don't you see? Alone, we're broken. Together, we're whole."

He closed his eyes again, and opened them when he felt her press herself against him. Against his will, his body responded.

"Tell me you don't love me," she challenged. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, and I'll walk away."

He looked down at her, his eyes sliding away to focus on the trees behind her. "I don't love you," he choked out, his hands tightening on her shoulders.

She reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Liar," she said tenderly, and he was lost.

***

Any ideas on what to do with this?

~victoria

link



[current mood: creative]
[current music: Kashmir - Led Zeppelin]
[random quote: I am a traveler of both time and space to be where I have been]

~*~

2002-06-17 - 10:52 a.m.

Quote, unquote

My turn to play the quotes game.

Jane St Clair asked for memorable fanfic quotes.

These are my favorites - the ones I can quote off the top of my head in most cases (well, except for the last one, which is too long to quote word for word - it's a scene not a line, but the rest - I've included a little extra for context in a couple of cases, but for the most part, it's the lines themselves I remember, and the stories that go with them):

The lid was hammered on. Two inches of breathing space above him. Scarcely enough length for him to stretch out. Bare wooden boards underneath him. /Probably good for my back,/ he thought crazily. He tried not to hyperventilate, knowing his air supply was severely limited and precious, but panic rushed over him as he felt the box being lifted. He clawed at the lid, clawed until he felt his fingernails break and the blood start to flow.

He jolted forward, crying out.

"Xander!" Tara's face was disconcertingly close to his own, coming in and out of focus as he blinked.

"When I die, cremate me," he requested carefully, before blacking out again.

From Underground, by Meg the Legend - BtVS

Because coming is dying, and even if it is awkward and paid for and brief it is liberation from life." luna vudu, All Is Full of Love - West Wing

6. Faith.

I missed.

From Perspective by Kate Bolin (I'd have linked to her site, but I can't get to it from work. Sigh) - BtVS

"My name is Marie." I said, rising slowly to my feet, burning my eyes into theirs as my hand lifts the gun toward them. "And I remember."

From Save the Last Dance for Me by darkstar, XMM

He wasn't worried about the colors.

Rogue laughed as tears streamed down her face.

He was afraid of the fade.

From Watercolors by Donna Bevan, XMM

And then his mouth touched her breast. Over her shirt, over all the layers that protected the world from her. His mouth was hot compared to her rain soaked shirt and she heard the rain and herself moaning so loudly that the echo of it whistled in her ears. She could feel his mouth moving, even through the layers of t-shirt and bra, and then his teeth gently tested her flesh and she pushed against his restraining hands so hard that the metal under her dented, just slightly.

He pulled back and she opened her eyes and started to talk, meaningless babble that even she couldn't hear because she wasn't listening and she could tell that he wasn't listening either because he pushed her shirt up and she felt all the air leave her lungs in a rush of shock, cutting off her words. And then he said, "Don't move" loudly enough for her to hear him over the rain and herself and then his mouth was almost on her skin, her real skin. Only the nylon of her bra--her "I need to do the laundry" light blue bra that she bought because it was marked down to 3.99 and she knew that no one would ever see it ever so, really what did it matter that it was thin and flimsy?--covered her.

He was going to get hurt. He was going to get hurt, he was going to touch her skin and she was going to hurt him and she wanted to. He moved his mouth to her other breast and she could feel the rasp of his tongue over the thin barrier of her bra and then there was more, the hot, sudden pull of his mouth and she looked down to see his head bent over her breasts and she pushed against his hands and her own were free and she sank them into his hair and felt the shape of his skull, moved her gloved hands through his hair.

He pulled his mouth away from her breasts and she could feel her hands trying to urge him back down. They were greedy already; they wanted more of what she hadn't even ever thought about till only a minute ago. He resisted her pull, straightening up and then leaning in, placing his head carefully next to hers, resting in the space between her head and her neck, protected by her hair.

She was suddenly afraid that she might cry.

Then his hand moved down and between her legs, a firm pressure against the ache of her body and the heavy fabric of her jeans and she felt the hot burn in the back of her eyes change and she tried to pull together enough focus to say something, anything because wasn't she supposed to say something? But all she could do was rest her head against the metal wall and gasp if she was dying and watch the rain fall down sideways. It fell into her open eyes and stung them but she didn't care. Her hips had started to move against his hand, urging his fingers into a pattern that she realized she needed to answer everything that was open and aching inside her.

The world started to blur around the edges, the rain softening into a haze and she thought she could hear her hips banging into the metal shed, a soft thud that was repeated as quickly and as harshly as the cadence of the rain landing around them and then there wasn't time to even think about that, she was too busy waiting and aching and waiting.

And then he turned his head, just slightly. He was still cocooned in her hair, but she heard his voice in her ear as his fingers pressed against her. "Marie."

And then it stopped. The waiting, the aching--it all stopped and she forgot everything for just a moment and watched multi-colored circles bloom on the inside of her eyelids, felt the throbbing inside her twist and break apart and float away. She didn't say anything but her breath hissed out of her in a long rush and the rain ran down her face and created tears for her.

He dropped his hand away from her and took a step back and she fell. The ground caught her and she folded down to her knees and bent her head forward for a moment, breathing. Then she stumbled up and the look on his face was not something she wanted to see so she closed her eyes.

After a moment she opened them again and watched his back as he walked away from her. His walk was different, broken somehow, and she didn't want to watch. So she took off her gloves and looked at her hands and after a while it stopped raining and she went inside and dripped water all over the floor of her room and Kitty found her there a little later and laughingly chided her into going and taking a shower and she did. And when she got out Kitty had already put her clothes in the dryer and gave her a strange look when she started crying over her dry blue t-shirt that only smelled like fabric softener and not of rain at all.

From Safety in Numbers by Elizabeth, XMM

You know I would copy this whole story if I could. I think not one word more of L/R fanfic ever needed to be written after "Safety in Numbers", though that didn't stop me from contributing many, many words of my own.

God I love that fic.

Now that I've totally depressed myself, what with the "Ain't No Sunshine" and "Hallelujah" on repeat...

I need something happy or I'm gonna start sniffling...

Comments?

~victoria

link

[current mood: sniffly]
[current music: Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley]
[random quote: Remember how I moved in you, the holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah]

~*~

2002-06-16 - 9:33 p.m.

The Character of Rain

So I read The Character of Rain by Amélie Nothomb on my train ride Friday evening. It's short - only 132 pages, and small pages at that.

But it's beautifully written (translated?), the story of a young girl up until her third birthday.

She reminds me of Devil Doll, actually, personality-wise. And I mean that in a *good* way, DD.

The story really seems to me to get into the head of a 2 1/2 year old - she still thinks she's the center of the universe, that her wish makes things happen, and well, Nothomb pulls it off amazingly well.

It's hard to choose just one passage to quote- there are lovely descriptions of many things, but this one, I think is my favorite:

To the endless list of unanswerable questions must be added the following: why is it that well-intentioned parents, not content merely to foist an idea onto their child, also convince themselves that it was the child's idea in the first place?

People are often asked what, as children, they wanted to be when they grew up. In my case it would be better to ask my parents. Their replies would provide an idea of precisely what I didn't want to be when I grew up.

When I was three they announced "my" passion for fish. When I was seven they announced "my" decision to enter the Foreign Service. When I was twelve they were convinced I wanted to become a politician. And when I was seventeen, they declared that I would become the family lawyer.

I once asked them how they had arrived at their determinations about my future. They replied, with their usual aplomb, that "it was obvious," and that "everyone thought that." And when I asked them who "everyone" was, they said,

"Well, you know, everyone. For goodness sakes!"

There's no sense fighting such conviction.

Definitely a book worth picking up.

I'm still wavering on the whole translation thing, though.

Anyone out there who can read two languages find that the translation sometimes doesn't match in tone or meaning? I mean, that maybe the words are right, but the meaning they convey isn't the same, is somehow intranslatable?

Since my own foreign language skills consist of asking for beer and the bathroom in Italian and Spanish, I'm not exactly one to know these things, but as I said last night, I always wonder, because it's bad enough to have the story filtered through the narrator sometimes. To have another hand - the translator - muddying the waters just obscures the story that much more.

Maybe.

I'm not sure.

Whee! Mike Piazza actually threw out a runner!

Woohoo!

~victoria

link

[current mood: curious]
[current music: Mets-Yankees on television]
[random quote: Something is lost, something more precious than anything and yet beyond recapture: belief in the goodness of the world.]

~*~

2002-06-16 - 1:20 p.m.

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day!

Hope everyone has a good one.

~victoria

[current mood: rushed]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]

~*~

2002-06-16 - 1:25 a.m.

love and money

Movie night.

This is a good thing. And a rare thing, since I hardly ever rent videos - DVDs now - anymore.

But round about 6pm or so, I said to my dad, "Let's got to Blockbuster."

So we got in the car ['cause you can't go *anywhere* in the damned county without a car, and I don't like that. I'm used to walking to the corner, and there's Blockbuster, and the Chinese restaurant and Mickey D's and Associated. So having to get in the car to do everything pisses me off. Eh. I'm a city girl. I admit it.] and went to Blockbuster.

And came home with Moulin Rouge [and how funny, I can't type "Rouge" - I keep typing Rogue. *g*], Ocean's 11 and Memento.

We watched Moulin Rouge first.

Dad liked it.

I liked it, with reservations.

Way, *way* too self-conscious with the "Look! We're arty!" camerawork, especially at the beginning.

Look, if there's dancing in a movie - real, choreographed dancing and not just bodies writhing on a dancefloor in a club - I want to see it. I want to watch the feet and the bodies and the faces, and I think it should be filmed the way Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse and Leslie Caron were filmed, not this slow-motion, sped-up, fancy schmancy crapple.

Um, that's my main complaint. The love story was well-done and touching. It's a straightforward, unironic romance, and they handled that well, though some of the winking and nodding was annoying in other parts. I don't think you can play this type of story with a wink and a nod.

I can't explain it better than that. I just think there was a little too much self-congratulation on the part of the director, a little too much, "We're so pomo! Check us out! Aren't we clever?"

My other reservation is Nicole Kidman's singing. She seems to have a nice voice, but not at all powerful, and she had problems enunciating. I couldn't understand her when she sang sometimes.

Ewan was... god, Ewan... Too lovable for words. His singing was much better than I expected. And such a woobie... Oh, I loved him.

I've always been a sucker for "Your Song" and its use was perfect.

I've always thought that a musical with current pop songs would be fun, and it was. It was the best use of "Like a Virgin" ever.

And the Tango "Roxanne" was wonderful. Plus, narcoleptic Argentine. How could I not dig on that? *g*

And Jim Broadbent kicked ass. So happy he won an Oscar, even if it wasn't for this role.

So two thumbs up, from me and Dad, though I'm kinda glad I didn't pay $10 to see it.

As for Ocean's 11 - again, I liked it, with reservations.

It was light, fluffy and fun. You can't beat a good heist movie, George Clooney is hot, and well, Carl Reiner *and* Don Cheadle... how fun is *that*?

'Cause I love me some Don Cheadle.

Brad Pitt was good, though with his doctor wig on, he reminded me a little too much of Rob Lowe, which was... odd.

I like Rob Lowe. He's totally made me believe he can actually act with West Wing and mostly erased my bad '80s memories of him [not to mention his duet with Snow White].

Matt Damon... there seemed like there should have been more to his character.

I get the whole 11 thing, but there were too many of them, and I really didn't feel like any of them had any depth. Which, for me, makes a movie less enjoyable.

I also saw absolutely no reason for Julia Roberts to go back to George Clooney, other than that he's George Clooney and he was damn fine-looking in his tuxedo.

I mean, I get why she leaves the other guy, but I didn't *believe* she and George had been in love and been married.

On the other hand, George had the swagger going, and you know I melt for the swagger, and he didn't do much head-bobbing, which is always a plus.

He's a big head-bobber, and it gets annoying sometimes.

So, it wasn't as good as say, The Thomas Crowne Affair [a movie I might just have to purchase], but it was a fun two hours.

Another two thumbs up on it.

I'm almost tempted to pick up the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, but I'm not quite sold... Hmmm...

We're saving Memento for tomorrow night when we're alert enough to pay attention.

I read The Character of Rain yesterday on the trainride out here, but I'll talk about it tomorrow, I guess. Beautifully written little book. Or translated. I'm always chary of translations, but the prose was beautiful, so I'm not going to complain too much about not knowing if that's what the writer was really saying.

I may have to check out more Amelie Nothomb.

Add in the 8-0 Mets' victory over the Yankees and the punkass bitch Clemens, and how I loved that both Estes and Piazza went yard against him, and it was a good day.

G'night!

~victoria

link

[current mood: content]
[current music: \"Your Song\" - Ewan McGregor]
[random quote: I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now that you're in the world]

~*~

2002-06-15 - 2:57 p.m.

Estes takes it downtown

Wheee!

Estes takes Clemens downtown!!!

That is all.

~victoria

[current mood: ]
[current music: chin music for Clemens]
[random quote: ]

~*~

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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.

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