the clink

Sooooo, yesterday was an interesting day.

We have this client, see. She is trying to get divorced from her balls-out crazy husband. This guy has sent mass mailings about his family’s private medical issues to tens of thousands of people in the county in which they live. He was bringing in enormous amounts of money as a financial adviser before he took the Crazy Pill, and now he’s lost absolutely everything, including his freedom – he is in jail for the second time this year for violating various court orders.

This case is well-known enough in the county that I don’t actually feel like I’m violating confidentiality by gossiping about it to the court clerks. He’s a religious nut to boot, and in his mailings he has included libelous statements regarding the attorney I work for (who’s representing the poor wife), as well as the judges ruling against him and the schools his children attend.

The point being, this is one of the most colorful cases ever to come through this firm. And yesterday I, a female who’s 5’3″ and 136 pounds, had to serve this guy with a show cause order. At the jail where he’s being held.

I did so. I wasn’t afraid of him; he is a terrier of a man, bark much worse than bite, and the worst that could possibly happen was him spitting on me or attempting to jump me or something – none of which was at all likely. I was more intimidated by what was required of me – going to a jail and serving papers on a criminal. As it turned out, I saw him only through Plexiglas, so even the worst I imagined was impossible, and the experience didn’t intimidate once I was there.

I’d never been to a jail before. This one was like a cross between a hospital (clean, depressing institution) and the DMV (copious waiting benches and surly employees). I even got to talk on the phone in the attorney booth, just like in the movies.

He seemed very normal. He wasn’t rude, or crazyface, or anything; I would not have called him friendly, but he was courteous enough and certainly not scary. I’ve delivered pizza to much scarier characters. This is our second attempt at getting this order served on him, and the sheriffs either didn’t read the deadline in my letter or didn’t care, so it was up to me to get it done, or our client would have to go another couple of months without a hearing to determine that he needed to flippin’ pay her. When I reported back to my attorney that he’d been served, the look of relief on his face was one of the most gratifying experiences I’ve had at this job since I was hired.

When I got in my car, I was relieved to be out of there, but also kind of satisfied. Like, “I’ve crossed that off my list.” Not something to be afraid of, either service of process or going to [visit] a jail.

30 Questions of Truth, Part 3

Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

Go see her at the hospital? I’m not clear on this one. Is the question asking whether I’d feel guilty about the fight, or whether that would change how I react to the car accident? No, I don’t think so…I could not have guessed that the events would happen in the same day.

Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.

Two incidents wherein I had sex with men that I didn’t want to have sex with. One was a one-night stand with a kid from Yale, a freshman when I was a senior, and apparently I was part of a bet with his friends. My enjoyment of the sex ended almost as soon as it had begun, but I let him go on and finish. I was as noisy as I could manage to be, hoping to turn him on enough that he’d get it over with, but it didn’t work that well and my suitemate was really mad at me the next day (until I explained why). I don’t know that I’d've done it any differently if I could inject my 21-year-old self with my 28-year-old confidence and self-respect, because no matter what the situation, it’s rude and awkward to say “I’m not having any fun, so give it up and let’s both go to sleep.” With a guy who’s a virtual stranger, it could be dangerous to do so.

The other incident was one I’d rather keep private, but it was very stupid of me to try and depend on this man for friendship when that was not what he wanted from me. And I learned there are worse things than staying in with a roommate that’s mad at you. Wish I’d just stayed home.

Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.

Told off my parents, back when I was a teenager. SN recommended this, actually, but I never did it. He was an asshole even then, but in this case he might have been right. They might just have tightened their grip harder and made me even more miserable, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could have stood up to them even once, just to see what would happen. They made me feel so laughable and so small that I thought any kind of rebellion on my part would be ridiculed and then punished. But I’ll never know what would have happened.

Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)

I made this mix for Boomer a few years ago, and it has endured. My theme at the time was voices – all the songs showcase different and interesting voices in different and interesting ways. I did not intend to send him any personal message. Well, except that I was joking with him a little with “Carmella”.

1. Sam Cooke – Touch the Hem of His Garment
2. Green Day – Jesus of Suburbia/City of the Damned/I Don’t Care/Dearly Beloved/Tales of Another Broken Home
3. Paul Simon – Peace Like a River
4. Evanescence – Lithium
5. Imogen Heap – Hide and Seek
6. Bad Religion – Sorrow
7. Beth Orton – Carmella
8. Bill Withers – Use Me
9. Blue October – Into the Ocean
10. Frou Frou – Flicks
11. Paul Simon – Graceland
12. Joanna Newsom – This Side of the Blue

Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

Look, either human existence is a huge and amazing and eternal mystery, or it’s not a mystery at all. Either we’re here for reasons that we cannot comprehend, with threads of destiny and self-determinism woven all throughout and around in this enormous four-dimensional tapestry, by a wielder of needle and thread whose purpose and nature we will never understand, or – and this is the theory I prefer – we’re here because we’re here, and that is all. Since I cotton to the second notion, I believe I’m still alive because I’m still alive. I haven’t been hit by a bus yet. If I believed that I had a destiny, it would probably be to write books, but I frankly don’t think that what I have to contribute to literature is as important as all that.

Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?

Yes, indeed. Starting when I was in middle school, and peaking here.

Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?

That I’m getting married. Not because it’s lots of fun to answer all the questions (or stand there and listen, as people pretend to be interested in my wedding but really just want to relive their own), but because I really can’t wait to be married to BF.

Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

I’m going to take the Fifth on that one.

Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

Get rid of the chip on my shoulder about people underestimating me. The reason why is, well, I want not to have that chip on my shoulder. It’s not any fun to see the world through a certain negative filter.

Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

This would be too long. I love lots of things about myself. The things I love the most about myself are my good heart and my dedication to honesty. I never lie or withhold the truth unless it’s necessary via Dear Abby’s standards.

9/28

My film review blog, Movies, Briefly, is finally ready. There are 138 reviews on the site, all but two of which have been on this blog in one form or another. The two new ones are The Pajama Game and Angels with Dirty Faces. Add it to your RSS feed and enjoy!

The only reason I was able to get it ready before the end of September is that I have NOTHING to do at work right now. I actually reorganized the administrative stuff on my desk yesterday, items I haven’t touched since I started here in March. I just asked for more work on Thursday, so I can’t ask for more just yet.

I would like advice on something. Our legal assistant, who is beginning to allow me to describe myself as “long-suffering”, takes off her shoes shortly after she gets to the office and walks around either in socks or barefoot all day. And I don’t mean around her desk – I mean to the copy room, to the kitchen, into the attorneys’ offices. The rest of us are wearing shoes, so I can’t understand how she thinks this is a good idea. It’s her choice what she exposes her feet to, of course, but I find this habit unprofessional and pretty gross. It’s not something I feel comfortable bringing up with my boss, because 1) I’ve complained about her enough already and 2) it’s really the kind of thing I should say to her myself.

Should I say something?

Speaking of gross, yesterday as I was (damply) coming back from the courthouse, I passed the bus stop and saw a woman licking salad dressing out of one of those little plastic cups you get at restaurants. She was holding an open styrofoam container, which I presumed contained the salad. There were white gobs of it on her chin. It was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen in real life.

A couple of weeks ago, BF received a small prerelease poster of the game he’s currently working on. For the first AAA title he worked on, on which he mostly tested but did some design, he was given a poster which he framed and hung up in our computer/video game room. The second AAA title did not warrant a poster, unfortunately. But this third one has pretty neat design and buzz, so he wanted to frame and hang the poster alongside the first one. I know it’s something he’s been meaning to do for a while, find a frame and hang it up. Last night I went to A.C. Moore and bought frames for it and for another item I’ve been meaning to frame (for much longer, though – over a year, I think). It was my lucky day for frames at A.C. Moore; they were on clearance AND buy-one-get-one, which meant an 18×24 and an 11×14 together cost me $16. I brought them home, framed the items, and hung up the game poster.

I knew that BF would be happy that I had gone on and done this for him, and although I guessed that he might have liked to pick out the frame himself, he would probably be a lot happier that it was taken care of than he would care that he hadn’t chosen the frame. Plus, I knew that he would probably be perfectly happy with whatever frame I picked out; he enjoys my taste. (I was right; he was very pleased when he got home.)

With this action, I declared a resolution: I’m not going to worry about this anymore. I’m going to listen to BF and take care of this kind of thing, buying items for our home without worrying that I’m somehow trampling his own preferences for style and taste by making the decision for both of us. So far he has been fine with whatever I buy, and I know that if he really hates it, he’ll tell me and I’ll get rid of it.

I’m excited about this. One more piece of anxiety and guilt dropped out of my life, and all I had to do was let it go.

and you know what “manicure night” means

Dear God:

Please, somehow, give me my own office. Particularly now that it’s football season, your lamb of a legal assistant is driving me bonkers. Throw me a bone. Thanks.

Your pal,
Crisitunity

I’ve written most of the third part of that 30 Days of Truth thing, but it turned up some stuff I haven’t thought about in years that is pretty painful. I’m going to sleep on it before I post it.

This weekend I went to a therapy session with a therapist in Glen Burnie. I figured out last week that maybe my problematic, long-term low sex drive is related to my birth control pill, and that poked a cattle prod at me to move ahead with plans for Essure or tube-tying. The next step is to get a therapist to sign off on the fact that I’m not making a mistake, and I decided to find one.

The woman I went to see is about my age, and just got married herself. I really liked her, and for the first time in therapy I felt as if I was talking to someone I saw eye-to-eye with. Always before, I’d felt this professional, almost parental difference between myself and the therapist, that they were up there deigning to reach down and give me help. Here I felt like I was having a conversation with someone on my level. I am not naive enough to think that she’s being friendly because she wants to, but it was a good feeling nevertheless.

I went there largely because I want to get my tubes tied, but I’m also debating about whether I want to go back into therapy for a while. I don’t think my work with my parents and my upbringing is finished, but I’m not sure whether or not I need someone to guide me through that work, or whether it just takes time. My mother is exasperating, and emotionally very difficult for me to deal with, but it’s not as if I am incapable of coping. I am slightly curious about whether I should/can learn some strategies for handling my anxiety, because although it’s very mild compared to how it was a couple of years ago, it occasionally rears its head and I am at a loss for how to handle it.

I had to go through a lot of the old shit, explain about the bathtub incident, about my therapy in elementary school and then college and then after college, yada yada. I am so overwhelmed by what’s required of me to explain my parents and my relationship with them to any therapist that it’s part of why I’ve avoided going back into therapy. There’s just so much. Hopefully this time it’ll be worthwhile.

Male readers: stop reading. I have a funny story about a yeast infection and I don’t want you to have to read it if you are squicky about that sort of thing.

So last week I discovered an early yeast infection gaining strength, and I went to Rite-Aid to pick up the needed supplies. I went after I taught on Friday, so I was wearing yoga clothes and flip-flops. I picked up a box of the generic three-day Monistat, a box of Vagisil anti-itch cream, and a box containing “testers” – I thought they could test to see if you had a yeast infection or not, but it turned out they were testers for whether you had a yeast infection or a more serious infection like Trich. My symptoms were so mild that I knew I didn’t have a more serious infection, so this was a wasted buy, but it’s good to have it in the cabinet anyway.

I had all these pastel-colored boxes in hand, two of them with prominent “Vagisil” markings on them, and I was in the face-lotion aisle looking for a suitable face lotion. I recently replaced my used-up Biore with Clean & Clear, but the C&C has salicylic acid in it, which caused an unpleasant tingle and didn’t moisturize particularly well anyhow, so I needed to pick another one. I was scouring the shelves for a Dove lotion I love (which I later learned has been discontinued, BOO) when a Rite-Aid employee, a middle-aged male, came striding down the aisle in a good mood. As he passed me, he said “Pedicure night?” in a jolly sort of way.

I had no idea how to respond to this. I wondered if he was making some kind of bizarre joke about the boxes I was carrying, because if I was going to be giving any part of my body attention that night based on what I was buying, it was not my toes. I wasn’t standing in front of the foot care products; I was standing in front of the facial care products. AND CARRYING THREE VAGINA BOXES. What the hell?

I stuttered “Uh…not really,” and he walked on. When I told BF this story later, he asked me what I was wearing on my feet, and I told him flip-flops. He said that was why. I still don’t really understand; people often wear flip-flops for reasons entirely unrelated to pedicures. But I guess that was the thing that jumped out at this Rite-Aid employee, not the vagina boxes.

In case you are curious, after three gross days, all has gone well, and the itching and burning are gone.

Happy Monday!

30 Questions of Truth, Part 2

I’m writing this to procrastinate going to the grocery store. There, I admitted it.

Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

I’m not sure that compliments I get really gravitate to one thing or another. I’m often called smart. Men I’ve dated have complimented me almost universally on my boobs. There’s a bracelet I wear sometimes that usually gets comments when I wear it – but it was etched from an Audubon drawing, so it’s kind of unusual and (objectively) lovely. I don’t know, that’s a hard one.

Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.

My hair, probably. I get occasional compliments on it, but I have loved it far more dearly than it would appear to be worth, based on the number of compliments I’ve received about it. Or my taste in clothes, few people compliment me on my outfits.

In thinking about this, I’ve realized that MM and MD have complimented me about all manner of things, often things that no one else ever has complimented me on. They are so sweet and thoughtful about compliments, and I ought to pass more out to them.

Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough-ass days. (write a letter.)

Dear Elton John,

I know that most people of my generation think you are a purveyor of cheese and soft rock, and that your insane attire in the 70′s is essentially a national joke. But your music has meant a lot to me on days when I’m down, and I need only a little picking up – days when the Jackson 5 would be way too much and Radiohead would make things worse. The intelligent structure of (most of your) songs has slid into just the right place in my brain, and your pleasing melodies have always made me sing along even when I thought I felt too crummy to sing. Thanks for all that. Thanks for “Rocket Man”, and thanks for “Tiny Dancer”, and thanks for “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and thanks for “Daniel”, and thanks, even, for “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”, stupid as it may be.

Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)

I do not like this question. I’ve written enough about my father, and while I could talk about novelists whose later work sucked, or musicians whom I later learned had vices like all the rest of us, I can’t think of a big hero disappointment that has shaped anything in me.

I’ll tell you, though, that I was raised in a household that considered Clinton’s election an American tragedy, and I have since reversed my point of view on him. I still think it’s questionable that someone so heartily crude, and someone so careless about the truth, was our president for eight years, but after all, Nixon made anything possible. Clinton is a brilliant politician, better at the game of politics than anyone I can think of in the last 50 years, and for that my opinion on him has changed from juvenile dislike to a genuine esteem…even if it’s an esteem with major reservations.

Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

Dessert. I know that sounds like a flip answer, but it’s the absolute truth. I can’t manage without something sweet once a day or every two days.

Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Beets. I would be happy if no one ever set beets in front of me for the rest of my life.

Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

A biography of Helen Keller. It’s hard to explain, but that book really changed the way that I see deafness and blindness. At the beginning of the book I thought that she was unfortunate, but I ended up thinking that she had lived a richer and fuller life than most of the rest of us with vision and hearing do. She altered my notion of disability into seeing it as mere difference, and that really opened up my thinking about human capability. It even inspired all kinds of speculation about the senses possibly available to nonhumans – would aliens who have a sixth sense we are not cognizant of think that we are, earth-wide, disabled?

Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.

I believe that gay people and straight people should have the same rights: to be legally married in a church wedding or in a civil union. (BF and I would probably go for a civil union if we had the option.) I don’t understand why it’s a big deal, and never have; marriage is a private institution, and you shouldn’t have to justify your marriage to anyone, for any reason.

Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

I think that I don’t like discussing religion or politics on this blog. It might give people an impression of me that is wrong or prejudiced.

Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.

I think drugs are bad, bad enough that I have avoided them entirely in my life (even pot). Part of the reason is that I don’t believe in doing things that are illegal, and part of the reason is elementary-school propaganda that certain drugs change your brain chemistry forever and I don’t enter into permanent changes lightly, and part of the reason is that I know I have an addictive personality and it’s a bad idea for me to encounter addictive items. (As a side note, after seeing Ray and learning that Ray Charles had something of an on/off heroin addiction, and knowing that he lived a long life with no apparent long-term side effects from this addiction, I have to wonder how much of the elementary-school lessons were true.)

I think alcohol is essentially a poison, but it is fun in low dosage. I know that I have a glass of wine in the evenings when I want to relax and when I want to feel more like a grownup. I wonder how many people would stop drinking altogether if alcohol wasn’t the province of adults only.

For both of these substances, I think that your life is your own, and you can choose what to put in your body and life, and why. It is not up to me to pass judgment. If you decide to try heroin just once, I will probably try to dissuade you, but I don’t think that people who choose drugs or alcohol in excess are somehow wrong or evil or stupid. We’re all human.

30 Questions of Truth, Part 1

Avitable posted a list of writing prompts, 30 Days of Truth, and I really liked it. It’s not much like a normal meme, because the intention is actually to explain yourself rather than just whip out answers. Although most of my answers are a little too short to actually make this a 30-day project, some of them are too long to make this just one post. So I’ll do a few of them, in no particularly organized fashion.

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.

Something I hate about myself specifically when I’m around BF is my inability to shut the fuck up. I am always rhapsodizing about something, whether attempting to make big hazy connections between items in pop culture, trying to defend my love of Twilight (which is sort of related to the first thing, actually), telling him about the mundane details of my day, which cannot possibly be of interest to anyone, whining about my parents and my past, out-loud navel-gazing, or nattering on about any one of a very, very long list of topics that interest me. I mean, hence this blog; a captive audience, no limitations, and I’ll go on forever. BF claims that he loves listening to me, and I have no reason not to believe him, but when we’re both in bed and the lights are out and I can hear in his voice that he’s dozing off, do I let him drift peacefully to sleep? No, I continue to monologue about whatever’s in my head, as if I’m going to run out of room if I don’t talk about everything. And he, conversely, uses his words so sparingly that I (and most others) really listen when he talks. This is a lesson that I have failed to learn from him – at least in his company.

Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.

There are lots of things I love about myself. That’s not a lesson I much need to learn. Something I am attempting to love about myself, with mixed success, is my dilettante-ish nature. I’m trying to think of this aspect of me as “talented” rather than “flaky”, and the fact that I flit from thing to thing, interest to interest, as an asset rather than a liability in my personality, but it’s slow going.

Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Being stupid about Eric, about money, and about something additional from when I was 19. In terms of Eric, I could not have known that things would turn out the way they did, but I still wish I’d come to my senses earlier than I did. I’m not sure it would have changed anything if I had, but I’m ashamed of wasting three years. And unfortunately, it’s very hard to make kids understand about money until they’re out in the world and earning it for themselves and it’s too damn late. The thing when I was 19 there was no excuse for, and I should have known better; I learned so much that was valuable from the event that I don’t regret the way everything unfolded, but I haven’t really forgiven myself for being so fucking stupid.

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

Oh, gosh. The easiest one is my father, for his lifetime of abandonment culminating in a truly bad decision about my wedding. By “easiest one” I mean that’s the easiest one to think of, not the easiest forgiving to accomplish. Another one is Eric, for not putting all my stuff in my storage space. It’s dumb that I’m still wrapped up in material items that were lost to me five years ago, but a lot of it mattered to me. A third would be SN, for being such an everloving asshole during early 2005 and then again, later. I guess I’m easy to offend.

A kind of funny one: I still haven’t forgiven my friend Chris for being unwilling to drive me to the dentist’s when I had my wisdom teeth out. That was in, like, 2002. But it basically ended our friendship, because he’d said weeks earlier that he would, and then when he found out he’d have to miss a half-hour of work at the record store to do me this favor, one I really needed, he reneged, the night before it was supposed to occur. He didn’t understand why this was such a big deal to me, but the way I saw it, a half-hour of work was more important to him than helping out a friend who needed his help. I couldn’t have the dental work done if someone didn’t drive me, and no one else I knew had a car and no classes that afternoon. My father was going to pick me up and drive me home, but he couldn’t be there early enough to drive me to the dentist, so I needed a ride. My friend Brian stepped in at the last minute, and even though he later became something of a creepo (and was the biggest pothead of all time), I have never forgotten that act of kindness. He was a cartographer, and he took time off of his job to do this for me…his real, adult job, not a college retail job. Gah, Chris, you asshat.

Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.

Publish a book. More realistically, and less dependent on other people’s whims: hike part of the Appalachian Trail.

Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.

Any one of a number of scenarios involving heights – hang-gliding, skydiving, zip-lining, going to the top of the Sears Tower, etc.

Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.

BF, definitely, but made my life worth living for? That’s the worst construction ever.

Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

I was going to answer Henry or Damien, because they are the people I automatically think of when I think of people who have injured me. But I think I’m going to have to answer EP, an attorney I used to work for/with, back when I was working at MD’s firm. For two years, she treated me like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. I still am not altogether sure why; I suspect it was either that I wasn’t an attorney, or that she and I had both been hired somewhat nepotistically. Or, BF’s theory (and she used to babysit him long ago): she’s just a bitch.

Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

KJJ. Don’t know how to reconcile that entire friendship.

Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

The best answer to this question is J, my former yoga-teacher-friend, but she did my work for me and severed our friendship at the beginning of the summer. Currently there aren’t many people in my life that I wish I didn’t know.

it fills my head up

outage

Last night, I had plans to do the Ballet Conditioning DVD I bought from Amazon a couple of weeks ago, make a split pea/rice dish that I haven’t made before, watch the remainder of The Pajama Game, and do whatever else happened across my brain. I did not manage the split pea/rice dish, but the rest I did. That DVD is no fucking joke, y’all. I’m in moderately good shape and I couldn’t manage the whole thing. My quads are killing me today. I’m definitely going to keep at it; I need muscle tone more than I need actual weight loss, so doing this is better suited to me than jogging.

Early in the evening, before I was done with the DVD, it started to rain. It rained furiously for about half an hour, and then stopped, in time for me to go out and get a burrito. (The split pea/rice dish required three hours of soaking, so I was making it mostly for tomorrow’s lunch rather than tonight’s dinner.) I ate my burrito in front of The Pajama Game, which did not improve during its second half, and then I started watching a special on Dark Side of the Moon, just about the time it started thundering again. The thunder grumbled around for a while, getting closer, and then it started to storm in earnest again, seemingly right over my house. The power flickered a few times, enough to red-ring the XBox (and terrify me…but it turned out to be fine), and then it shut off and stayed off around 8:15. I found the matches, lit up a few tea lights, called BF to let him know that he would not necessarily be able to get into the garage when he got home, and sat down to wait until my peas and rice were done soaking before I went upstairs for the duration. I looked around the living room, listening to the thunder, watching the dark house. The thunder really would have been quite scary if I had that kind of personality; I love thunderstorms rather than fearing them, but this was extremely close, less than a quarter-mile away, and very loud.

When the soaking was done, I checked the stove; the gas worked, but the stove wouldn’t light, so cooking was out. I drained the peas and rice and stored them in the fridge, then took myself upstairs with some candles and opened Cagney.

The house was so quiet. Without power, all the white noise was off. The candlelight was pleasant, and because the A/C was off I felt warm and content. The street outside was dark (except for frequent headlights), rather than the usual streetlights shining into my window, so I opened the curtains and the window partway and listened to the rain, wind, and cars while I read.

It all came back on just before 10:00, and I turned off all the stuff that had been on and went to bed. I was disappointed. I know that in 2010 we cannot function without power, that it’s safer and more convenient and has become as essential to our survival as food and shelter, but it was so peaceful without it. So calm. There wasn’t anything distracting me from the thoughts in my head or the stories in my book.

Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t last a month without my DVD player. Movies are too important a pastime for me. But without the pull of the DVD player, with only books to occupy me, I felt better. Less entrapped by the modern. More authentically human.

9/22

I spent some of last night watching slightly over half of The Pajama Game, which I found mediocre and which nearly out-Birdies Bye Bye Birdie, ulgh. I spent some more of last night seeking the best covers of standards from Astaire/Rogers films, because I’ve finally come up with a better and less expensive wedding favor idea than flip-flops. I think I found enjoyable versions. The most interesting thing I ran across was a cover of “A Fine Romance” by a 70′s folk duo that screamed Mitch & Mickey (their actual names were Reilly & Maloney, and I highly recommend the cover if you want to pay $0.99 for it at iTunes, but I couldn’t find it anywhere on the internet for free, sorry). That was the song that probably gave me the most trouble. It’s a very hard song to sing (Ginger herself made a serious mess of it in Swing Time), and you have to have a duet to really do it properly, and there are many verses and they’re all funny and virtually no covers include them all. I finally settled on a jokey and wonderful one by Sammy Davis, Jr. and Carmen MacRae. (I spent my Ella and Louis nickel on “Cheek to Cheek”, because their version of it is the best I’ve ever heard.)

I guess a lot of that was hard to understand. Sorry. Finding the music that I want to play at the wedding has been huge, huge fun. The only problem is that I’ve retreated even further into my enjoyment of the stuff of the past. I’ve been watching a lot more 30′s movies in the last couple of months than usual, and listening mostly to music recorded before 1960, and while it’s been lots of fun for me, when I go through a phase like this I always worry about becoming completely disconnected from people who are my own age. I know that I don’t really live much like they do, what with the early bedtimes and the no-clubbing and the no-television and all the other stuff, but drawing back into the past always puts a worry in the back of my mind that I’ll fail to keep up with my peers somehow, in some essential way.

Oh well. Something to worry about another day.

Speaking of the past, last night BF and I watched a ten-minute gameplay demonstration for Bioshock: Infinite. The mind boggles, y’all. It was some of the most remarkable creative work I’ve ever seen. BF was shaking his head, and he said it was kind of like being a local band, going along and getting local fans, and then you go to Shea Stadium and you see the Beatles, and the ground is crumbling out from under you all of a sudden. His game and his game company are fine, they do decent work, but this is a whole other level. I told him I knew the feeling; I read an Edna O’Brien novel at the time when I was most involved in writing a couple of years ago, and I thought maybe I’d just never set pen to paper again, and that would be better. No need for my utter mediocrity to be found in the same universe where her work exists.

So it was really good, is the thing. I don’t know how to actually assess it, what was so good about it, but watch it for yourself and maybe you can tell me.

Went to the dentist yesterday morning. I told BF that as I was standing at the counter, making my check out, I felt like I’d just been through a trauma. My breath was shaky and it was hard to concentrate. This is how I feel virtually every time I go to the dentist. It’s not scary, I just hate all the sensations in my skull - the polishing sensation, the scraping sensation, the suction. I also hate the taste of that fluoride wash so deeply that I want to throw up when I’m finished with it and I can feel the remnants sliding down my throat. I feel like I’ve been released from pound-me-in-the-ass prison when I’m done.

I also grilled last night, in between the music and movie. BF is by far a better griller than I ever will be, but I got the food cooked and I had a pretty good time. I dragged a chair outside and poured myself a glass of white zin, and sat and listened to the hot dogs hiss, and felt like a happy, independent grownup with a totally decent life.

I’ve got an interesting project ahead of me at work today, so I’m going to get to it.

September movies, part the first

I switched to Sookie Stackhouse books, Stieg Larsson, wedding planning partway through August, so the number of movies I watched was quite different than in July. So far I’ve not watched many in September either, but here they are. Even though this just makes another 6 posts I have to create for the other blog before it can go live, I couldn’t help myself posting this – for God’s sake, I saw Showgirls.

Repo Man – I’m not sure what to say about this movie. I had approximately the same emotions for it that you have for the ugly girl who sits somberly in the corner and eats her lunch and bothers no one – until you try to befriend her, out of some sense of human kindness, and she turns out to be a real bitch. It’s not a movie that really invites positive emotions, because not a one of the characters is appealing. But it’s also a cheeky and light-on-its-toes satire, and miles more interesting than the majority of films that were in theaters in 1984. (This was the year of C.H.U.D., Red Dawn, and Cannonball Run II.) BF didn’t buy it, but I’d argue that it even provided some inspiration for Pulp Fiction. A nutty ride, and not an altogether pleasant one, but well worth taking at least once.

Yankee Doodle Dandy – I think 2010 is my year for learning about musicals, Broadway, and vaudeville, what with Funny Girl and this and All That Jazz. This movie is about a man whom I am ashamed to say I hadn’t heard of until I saw this movie: George M. Cohan. He more or less codified the musical, and helped draw Broadway entertainment from vaudeville variety shows to the form it’s in today. He also wrote some of the most recognizable American songs ever written: “You’re a Grand Old Flag”, “Yankee Doodle Dandy”, “Over There”, “Give My Regards to Broadway”, and so on. The movie itself is terrific, not at all what I expected, with a very spicy script and remarkably different musical numbers. And Cagney is totally wonderful. I begin to understand what people say about him, and grow sadder that his legacy is getting lost. (Postscript: I put a bunch more of his movies on my list after seeing this one, and am currently immersed in a biography of him.)

Looking for Mr. Goodbar – Confusing. It’s a starring vehicle for Diane Keaton, who is exceptionally good, but her character is easy to dislike. She has increasingly frightening encounters with strange men in order to scratch her nymphomaniac itch, and her life becomes a bigger and bigger mess, with pot, Quaaludes, and cocaine among the side habits she picks up. Unsurprisingly, she meets a bad end. I have a hard time deciding whether this is a conservative cautionary tale, or a work intended to hit us between the eyes with women’s lib and push the boundaries of what was shown to 70′s audiences. There are many details to this movie that I’d like to chat about - William Atherton in a non-villain role, LeVar Burton as a teenager, Richard Gere as an over-the-top punk gigolo, Tuesday Weld in a rare role – but I enjoyed the experience of watching it so little that I don’t really want to waste the time. I enjoyed the 70′s-era naturalistic script and performance by Keaton, but the results were brutal and muddled.

The Black Dahlia – What a godawful mess. This could have been a really wonderful film – a mix of L.A. Confidential and The Untouchables – but De Palma and the screenwriter failed to put the required effort into a successful conversion, and it just wound up looking like a Pollock painting, with shit tossed all over the place. It tries to be slick and beautiful, and the color is glorious, but the rest fails. The period aspect for some reason just doesn’t work, it all looks like costumes and set dressing, and the hardboiled aspect is ineffective, reminiscent of the failed Blade Runner voice-over. It’s a hard movie to take seriously, in general, and to follow, as it jumps from story to story. As for performances: Johansson is phoning it in, the first time I’ve seen her do that; Eckhart, as far as I can tell, is trying to steal the movie and just ends up making a fool of himself; Swank is okay, but miscast; and Hartnett is extraordinarily good. I’ve never seen him put anything but full effort into any part, no matter how small or shitty, and in this one he reminds me of a young Richard Gere – tightly controlled, intelligent, layered. I’m going to watch him more carefully in the future. Too bad the material wasn’t better.

Solaris (2002) – I enjoy Soderbergh’s work, and I root for him. Most particularly because he has found better success than anyone I can think of at playing the game of switching between commercial films and art films, but also because he has a terrific eye and is a hard worker. This is one of his art films, and it’s very beautiful indeed, but there is simply not as much under the surface as there ought to be. The camera work is nothing short of spectacular, the casting is just right, the special effects are extraordinary, the music is transcendent…but ultimately the themes here of male anguish and guilt, love lost, and second chances are touched upon too slightly to sustain an art project with this kind of ambition. Sublime to look at, but not much fun to watch.

Showgirls – So this is what you get when you use 24K gold to plate a piece of dog doo. Beautiful women, beautiful locations, one of the most talented traffic-cop directors in the business, and it’s a rotting, smelly turd underneath. I’m disgusted by the attitudes toward women – nice try, passing it off as a satire, but try again – and astonished that a screenwriter alive in 1995 could portray a gender this way. We do, actually, act like adults when we are together, not like seventh-graders. Character motivations are bewildering, plotting is wildly underdone and then wildly implausible during the last half-hour, and all the nudity somehow becomes profoundly boring, to the point where I was rolling my eyes the 18th time poor Berkley took her top off. The actual shows are the only bright spot: they are pretty great, like going to Vegas without having to go to Vegas, even though one of them simulates S&M sex in a way that sort of nauseated me. But the whole spectacle reminds me of something one of the characters says, about how at least a strip club with lap dances is honest, and how it’s hypocritical that the purpose of the big, classy topless show at the Stardust is really to show the audience tits & ass while pretending to be something else. That’s dishonest, he says. He’s right, it is, and this is a shitty, misogynist trenchcoat movie poorly and dishonestly disguised as a big, classy Hollywood film.