This week I rented Sideways and Closer, two movies I'd been wanting to see and hadn't had the motivation to see in the theatre (point of fact, I'd have bought Closer sight unseen save for the fact that the store was sold out of purchasable copies).
I enjoyed Sideways. It was fun. It was decently written. I like the principal actors. I don't think it was great, however. I can't see why it drew so much Oscar buzz, but I at least agree with its not winning. Not great, but good. And as someone who wants to cultivate a better palate for wine, it was instructive and entertaining.
Closer... not quite what I was expecting from the countless reviews I'd read, but close. I love me my Natalie Portman movies; I find her visually fascinating in a way I find so few actors today. Ever since Leon, The Professional I've been captivated by her work. And, by and large (I loves me my cliches), she was the most sympathetic, believable and enjoyable character in the film. Almost didn't return this one to Blockbuster (as they'd then just charge me the difference between the rental and the dvd as new thanks to their new late fees policy) but decided I could probably get it cheaper used later, or new on Amazon.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Poem of the Day
There is no poem that will stop this war
This is not the one. There is none. There is
nothing to be done. We are not anything but
the Hun the fierce images in old textbooks
the Mongol horsemen rape and pillage
villages burning and the laughter of old men.
The radio and television prepare us
for the Super Bowl. But already in Ohio
we are number one. All of us better
than all of the rest of the world. Admit it
it was the perfect game. Allah praise Ohio State.
And admit this all who listen to NPR
the president is smarter than you.
He is riding the armored car of history while you
look for a refuge some safe place for your children.
But there is no place to hide. We are the virus.
Everything that cannot be bought and sold
for a profit falls before us. He knows this
even if you believe he is a fool. He lives and breathes
Karl Marx while you hold up a sign that says
Peace is Patriotic. The laughter of old men.
There is no image to stop the war. No child
with burned blacked skin like barbecued chicken.
The children waste away from bad plumbing and no
medicine. We pass along to each other the chips
and organic carrots. Bottled water.
There is no poem as good as government ensured
bonds. We are wounded with so little interest. There
is no poem that will pay us ten percent and stop
this war. The Germans marched prematurely
through history never understanding the power
of the dollar never having heard of Lexus and SUV
never knowing anything about baseball never
knowing that the Yankees only lose enough
to make the game seem fair. Vietnam is empty
in the memory. Cambodia fills with Wal-Mart
and Burger King. Bombs from 20,000 feet.
The first dictate of battle is to make sure
the enemy has no weapons to harm you.
Disable their best batter. Tonya Harding their best runner.
Then attack and wait for the parade. But dont wait
for the poem that will stop this war. There is none.
The history of the empire has just begun.
Joe Napora
This is not the one. There is none. There is
nothing to be done. We are not anything but
the Hun the fierce images in old textbooks
the Mongol horsemen rape and pillage
villages burning and the laughter of old men.
The radio and television prepare us
for the Super Bowl. But already in Ohio
we are number one. All of us better
than all of the rest of the world. Admit it
it was the perfect game. Allah praise Ohio State.
And admit this all who listen to NPR
the president is smarter than you.
He is riding the armored car of history while you
look for a refuge some safe place for your children.
But there is no place to hide. We are the virus.
Everything that cannot be bought and sold
for a profit falls before us. He knows this
even if you believe he is a fool. He lives and breathes
Karl Marx while you hold up a sign that says
Peace is Patriotic. The laughter of old men.
There is no image to stop the war. No child
with burned blacked skin like barbecued chicken.
The children waste away from bad plumbing and no
medicine. We pass along to each other the chips
and organic carrots. Bottled water.
There is no poem as good as government ensured
bonds. We are wounded with so little interest. There
is no poem that will pay us ten percent and stop
this war. The Germans marched prematurely
through history never understanding the power
of the dollar never having heard of Lexus and SUV
never knowing anything about baseball never
knowing that the Yankees only lose enough
to make the game seem fair. Vietnam is empty
in the memory. Cambodia fills with Wal-Mart
and Burger King. Bombs from 20,000 feet.
The first dictate of battle is to make sure
the enemy has no weapons to harm you.
Disable their best batter. Tonya Harding their best runner.
Then attack and wait for the parade. But dont wait
for the poem that will stop this war. There is none.
The history of the empire has just begun.
Joe Napora
Monday, April 11, 2005
Sunday Night Nerdgames: Deadlands
Not a whole lot happened this session. First we began late because Phil showed relatively late due to hang-over and Paul showed really late due to his recording session going long. When his band's cd is finally cut, I'm bound to burn it and force-feed it down my friends' throats like I did with Cowboy (who I still miss greatly).
Anyhow, much of this session was individual activities as our group prepared for round two with the evil acid monster wormlings from last week (the ones that almost killed me). CJ spent her time at the library continuing her studies and she's now no longer a complete illiterate!
Anyhow, much of this session was individual activities as our group prepared for round two with the evil acid monster wormlings from last week (the ones that almost killed me). CJ spent her time at the library continuing her studies and she's now no longer a complete illiterate!
Further Baby Updates
We've reached a consensus on the names, and they're the same as the possible ones I posted previously:
Rael Pietro Maximillian Peterson for a boy (I wonder if Denise would let me push for Maximoff instead, and if she'd get it)
Clea Illeana Miriya Peterson for a girl
Also, we learned that we've a new complication to deal with. According to the latest sonogram, Denise's body hasn't produced as much amniotic fluid as she's supposed to, so now we're on weekly stress testing to make sure the baby is fine. They didn't make it sound like they were very worried, just that it was something we definitely need to keep a monitor on.
Rael Pietro Maximillian Peterson for a boy (I wonder if Denise would let me push for Maximoff instead, and if she'd get it)
Clea Illeana Miriya Peterson for a girl
Also, we learned that we've a new complication to deal with. According to the latest sonogram, Denise's body hasn't produced as much amniotic fluid as she's supposed to, so now we're on weekly stress testing to make sure the baby is fine. They didn't make it sound like they were very worried, just that it was something we definitely need to keep a monitor on.
Poem of the Day
Another one of mine, published in Watershed volume 26 number 2 (as was the Tatsu poem:
Discovered While Searching Under Bed for Yard Sale Stuff
It caught me unexpected—
your gray hooded sweatshirt:
CalPoly San Luis Obispo printed on the chest,
left cuff unraveling from the sleeve.
Despite months of distance,
your scent lingers:
dried sweat on the chest and lower back,
papaya from the lotion your sister makes by hand
and sent for our second Christmas.
The last time you wore it
was the big Frisbee football showdown
at your company picnic—
big because winning meant showing your coworkers
we weren’t a couple of limp wristed faggots.
I sprained my ankle for the fifth time;
to you, losing us the game.
You seethed in silence the whole ride home—
put a cold wall of bruised pride between us.
Still, that night you bandaged my sprain tenderly
after supporting and soaping me in the shower.
I could still bear standing,
but I needed your arm around my waist,
your hands massaging apricot scrub
into my back.
I needed you pressed against me,
your lips on my nape of neck
as shampoo rinsed us down the drain.
Pulling the old sweatshirt on,
with its shoulders broader than mine,
I still do.
Discovered While Searching Under Bed for Yard Sale Stuff
It caught me unexpected—
your gray hooded sweatshirt:
CalPoly San Luis Obispo printed on the chest,
left cuff unraveling from the sleeve.
Despite months of distance,
your scent lingers:
dried sweat on the chest and lower back,
papaya from the lotion your sister makes by hand
and sent for our second Christmas.
The last time you wore it
was the big Frisbee football showdown
at your company picnic—
big because winning meant showing your coworkers
we weren’t a couple of limp wristed faggots.
I sprained my ankle for the fifth time;
to you, losing us the game.
You seethed in silence the whole ride home—
put a cold wall of bruised pride between us.
Still, that night you bandaged my sprain tenderly
after supporting and soaping me in the shower.
I could still bear standing,
but I needed your arm around my waist,
your hands massaging apricot scrub
into my back.
I needed you pressed against me,
your lips on my nape of neck
as shampoo rinsed us down the drain.
Pulling the old sweatshirt on,
with its shoulders broader than mine,
I still do.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Zombie Madness
Every other Friday night we gather at my place to nerdgame in the zombie horror genre. This week's foray into zombie survival took an interesting turn as a great example of how the best plans inevitably get fucked up by somebody's sudden whim or absolute forgetfulness.
Sadly, #3 is continuing to be a major butthead (an event I meant to blog about yesterday but blogger was down) so his little girl with the creepy teddy bear (it talks to her; or does it? Maybe she's crazy...) spent the session in the restroom and in the van (this episode, they spent the majority of their time in the local tire shop/mechanic that they holed upo in last session, and then made their break for it tonight); this in turn made it so Ian's evil serial killer continued to have no opportunity to kill anyone on the sly (the perverse in me loves that he's playing such an evil monster in a horror story where he isn't the evil monster). Dusty's meth-head was too busy souping up his stolen Mustang to draw more than one preaching session out of Phil's Mormon and tonight's zombie battling was relatively absent (one zombie found within a van inside the shop, two zombie dogs attack Ian's character Randall when they make their break for it).
The beauty of tonight's session was where it all went to hell: the Mormon, the highschool kid (Paul) and the serial killer make this elaborate plan to distract the zombies with the sound of the vehicle motors in the garage so that Randall can sneak out and go to a sporting goods store for survival supplies while they then open the garage doors, plow through the zombies, go to the nearest grocery store for supplies and meet Randall at the sporting goods to pick him up. The methhead jumps the gun and tries to plow through the garage doors and then the zombies, almost killing the Mormon. He gets through, though severely messes up the 'stang. Regardless, their two vehicles make it out. Randall, walking solo, is beset by two zombie dogs and he dispatches them. Methhead sees him and abandons the plan by driving to him (alerting more zombies to his presence) and trying to offer him a lift. Randall runs away into an apt. complex, zombies chasing him slowly as the cars return to plan and head for Albertson's. I ended things there, with Ian unsure of how endangered he is, because cliffhangers are fun.
Sadly, #3 is continuing to be a major butthead (an event I meant to blog about yesterday but blogger was down) so his little girl with the creepy teddy bear (it talks to her; or does it? Maybe she's crazy...) spent the session in the restroom and in the van (this episode, they spent the majority of their time in the local tire shop/mechanic that they holed upo in last session, and then made their break for it tonight); this in turn made it so Ian's evil serial killer continued to have no opportunity to kill anyone on the sly (the perverse in me loves that he's playing such an evil monster in a horror story where he isn't the evil monster). Dusty's meth-head was too busy souping up his stolen Mustang to draw more than one preaching session out of Phil's Mormon and tonight's zombie battling was relatively absent (one zombie found within a van inside the shop, two zombie dogs attack Ian's character Randall when they make their break for it).
The beauty of tonight's session was where it all went to hell: the Mormon, the highschool kid (Paul) and the serial killer make this elaborate plan to distract the zombies with the sound of the vehicle motors in the garage so that Randall can sneak out and go to a sporting goods store for survival supplies while they then open the garage doors, plow through the zombies, go to the nearest grocery store for supplies and meet Randall at the sporting goods to pick him up. The methhead jumps the gun and tries to plow through the garage doors and then the zombies, almost killing the Mormon. He gets through, though severely messes up the 'stang. Regardless, their two vehicles make it out. Randall, walking solo, is beset by two zombie dogs and he dispatches them. Methhead sees him and abandons the plan by driving to him (alerting more zombies to his presence) and trying to offer him a lift. Randall runs away into an apt. complex, zombies chasing him slowly as the cars return to plan and head for Albertson's. I ended things there, with Ian unsure of how endangered he is, because cliffhangers are fun.
Poem of the Day
The Shipfitter's Wife
I loved him most
when he came home from work,
his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,
his denim shirt ringed with sweat
and smelling of salt, the drying weeds
of the ocean. I would go to him where he sat
on the edge of the bed, his forehead
anointed with grease, his cracked hands
jammed between his thighs, and unlace
the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles,
his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.
Then I'd open his clothes and take
the whole day inside me-the ship's
gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,
the voice of the first man clanging
off the hull's silver ribs, spark of lead
kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,
the white fire of the torch, the whistle
and the long drive home.
-Dorianne Laux
I loved him most
when he came home from work,
his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,
his denim shirt ringed with sweat
and smelling of salt, the drying weeds
of the ocean. I would go to him where he sat
on the edge of the bed, his forehead
anointed with grease, his cracked hands
jammed between his thighs, and unlace
the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles,
his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.
Then I'd open his clothes and take
the whole day inside me-the ship's
gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,
the voice of the first man clanging
off the hull's silver ribs, spark of lead
kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,
the white fire of the torch, the whistle
and the long drive home.
-Dorianne Laux
Beautiful Serendipity
Perhaps my favorite episode of Coupling re-aired this week, and given my venting in previous post, it was quite serendipitous.
In this episode Susan and Steve are preparing for Susan's baby. We open with Steve having a dream where a plane crash he obviously has no control over is a metaphor for the pregnancy. Awake, they sign up for antenatal classes. Susan asks Sally to join them as Steve's back up. Sally asks Jane to come as her back up. Jane demands new beau Oliver joins her, and he ropes Patrick in because he doesn't want to be the only bloke there. Joy of joys, at the class itself, Patrick is revealed to have slept with most of the women there, during times they were dating their SOs. Blah blah blah. The men adn women are paired off separately to discuss birthing issues. In the question of pain relief, the men unanimously decide on the epidural as the only sensible option (and while I'm friendly with the idea of the epidural, I really don't care all that much what Denise chooses for this) and all the women toss it out. Steve follows with a beautiful instruction for all of the participants to go home, take off their shoes and socks, purposefully stub their toes and try to make the pain go away by breathing.
Anyhoo, Susan eventually tells Steve that she's decided that even though she doesn't want an epidural, she knows she'll ask for one when the pain gets bad and she instructs Steve to make her request the meds three times before letting the doctors administer the meds (I only hope she puts this in writing and submits it to the hospital beforehand, otherwise the docs won't listen to Steven anyway). Steven is now given control over something in the pregnancy, and while incredibly miniscule, it puts him afloat emotionally.
We end with Steve dreaming of the plane again. This time everyone on board but him ate the chicken and got extreme food poisoning. The stewardess recruits him to help as he'll be the only one capable when the time comes--and then hands him a bucket and mop to clean up all the pending vomit with, as the plane's autopilot and autolander will take care of the plane--he's only needed for clean-up. I thought it a great metaphor for the insignificance of the significant power he was given.
I suppose I should have put a spoiler alert up at the top for Adj, as she actually watches the show too.
In this episode Susan and Steve are preparing for Susan's baby. We open with Steve having a dream where a plane crash he obviously has no control over is a metaphor for the pregnancy. Awake, they sign up for antenatal classes. Susan asks Sally to join them as Steve's back up. Sally asks Jane to come as her back up. Jane demands new beau Oliver joins her, and he ropes Patrick in because he doesn't want to be the only bloke there. Joy of joys, at the class itself, Patrick is revealed to have slept with most of the women there, during times they were dating their SOs. Blah blah blah. The men adn women are paired off separately to discuss birthing issues. In the question of pain relief, the men unanimously decide on the epidural as the only sensible option (and while I'm friendly with the idea of the epidural, I really don't care all that much what Denise chooses for this) and all the women toss it out. Steve follows with a beautiful instruction for all of the participants to go home, take off their shoes and socks, purposefully stub their toes and try to make the pain go away by breathing.
Anyhoo, Susan eventually tells Steve that she's decided that even though she doesn't want an epidural, she knows she'll ask for one when the pain gets bad and she instructs Steve to make her request the meds three times before letting the doctors administer the meds (I only hope she puts this in writing and submits it to the hospital beforehand, otherwise the docs won't listen to Steven anyway). Steven is now given control over something in the pregnancy, and while incredibly miniscule, it puts him afloat emotionally.
We end with Steve dreaming of the plane again. This time everyone on board but him ate the chicken and got extreme food poisoning. The stewardess recruits him to help as he'll be the only one capable when the time comes--and then hands him a bucket and mop to clean up all the pending vomit with, as the plane's autopilot and autolander will take care of the plane--he's only needed for clean-up. I thought it a great metaphor for the insignificance of the significant power he was given.
I suppose I should have put a spoiler alert up at the top for Adj, as she actually watches the show too.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Poem of the Day
Here's another of mine. This was published in Watershed magazine 3 1/2 years ago. I need to dig the issue up for my c.v.
Tatsu, Awaiting Her Daimyo
yesterday, blossoms fell from gingko—
small pink stars float through blue heaven
kitsune greeted me at Kiso’s bank,
her black-tipped nose poking out from tall reeds
small white koi dash when my pail breaks water,
fills so I may have tea—
swollen with your legacy.
during harusaki, you promised to return
before gingko blossoms fell
copyright D. Evan Peterson 2001
Tatsu, Awaiting Her Daimyo
yesterday, blossoms fell from gingko—
small pink stars float through blue heaven
kitsune greeted me at Kiso’s bank,
her black-tipped nose poking out from tall reeds
small white koi dash when my pail breaks water,
fills so I may have tea—
swollen with your legacy.
during harusaki, you promised to return
before gingko blossoms fell
copyright D. Evan Peterson 2001
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Baby Names
As with Lash, we've (read: Denise) decided to go back to two middle names, as opposed to the three we gave Aeia.
Currently, a boy child looks something like this:
Rael Pietro Maximilian Peterson (I'm amused she's now pushing for a Peter Peterson after shunning me for liking the name seven years ago for Lash)
girl:
Clea Illeana (something to be determined, I like Miriya (goes with the Max above) or Zor-El) Peterson.
The first names are my choice, but don't think that they're sticking because I was actually given the power to name the kids--I stole that particular power by deciding the name I liked and then telling Lash and Aeia what the names were, and getting them to believe that those would be quite definitely the names we used. As they take any insinuation from her that the name could possibly be anything besides Rael or Clea as a sign that she doesn't love the baby anymore, Denise caved. See the level of dastardlyness I have to resort to?
Currently, a boy child looks something like this:
Rael Pietro Maximilian Peterson (I'm amused she's now pushing for a Peter Peterson after shunning me for liking the name seven years ago for Lash)
girl:
Clea Illeana (something to be determined, I like Miriya (goes with the Max above) or Zor-El) Peterson.
The first names are my choice, but don't think that they're sticking because I was actually given the power to name the kids--I stole that particular power by deciding the name I liked and then telling Lash and Aeia what the names were, and getting them to believe that those would be quite definitely the names we used. As they take any insinuation from her that the name could possibly be anything besides Rael or Clea as a sign that she doesn't love the baby anymore, Denise caved. See the level of dastardlyness I have to resort to?
Poem of the Day
THE ENCORE OF AGE
The cacophony of youth
badgers for an encore,
tries to impose brown hairs
through an all grey head.
But perpetual dreams have given way
to unmet desires and blighted visions.
Grey is softer and more forgiving.
Maturity is an acquired taste.
- Judith Pordon
The cacophony of youth
badgers for an encore,
tries to impose brown hairs
through an all grey head.
But perpetual dreams have given way
to unmet desires and blighted visions.
Grey is softer and more forgiving.
Maturity is an acquired taste.
- Judith Pordon
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Sunday Night Nerdgames
If I had a badge, I'd wear my Nerd Proud.
Aside from other occasional get-togethers, I reserve Sunday nights for nerdgames at Ian's with him, Paul, Phil and Dusty. Since I started with them in July, we've been playing the game Deadlands, run by Ian (I also play/run a nerdgame on either Friday or Saturday alternating weeks, and then go out for young guy partying the other weekend nights, for those keeping a tally; the family gets me weekdays and weekend mornings/days). I liken Deadlands to 4 parts Dark Tower, 2 parts Road Warrior and 1 part Unforgiven.
Now, it should be noted, that we use the term "nerdgame" with love. We're proud to get our gaming dork on every week, and it doesn't hamper our ability to have fantastic non-nerdy fun with non-nerdy people any other time. We aren't 300 pound, 30 y/o, hygenically challenged social misfits who still live in their mothers' basements.
The character I play there, C.J. Chambers, is a 17-year old female gunslinger who disguises herself as a male (leave it to me to play a member of the GLBT community in a nerdgame). She's illiterate and hiding it, comically clueless, absolutely afraid of dogs and vindictive as hell. And she's death walking with guns in each hand. I like cowboys.
In the eight months I've been playing there, maybe two weeks have passed, close to three at the absolute tops. In that time she's had her first drunken lesbian experience, fallen in love/been hopelessly smitten twice: each with gruff, taciturn men (one was mute). Each time the man died before she could reveal her feelings for them. All of her friends keep dying (only one from the original group she met when I joined remains alive--Dusty's Templar, Helena) and in some ways it's broken her spirit a bit (eg she's refusing to become friends with Paul and Phil's replacement characters for their dead ones--especially since Phil has been on a huge dying streak lately).
Every time I start to think she's getting to be really cool, Ian puts her in major life threatening crises (the worst was when he poisoned me and left me still dying at the end of the session to wait two weeks before finding out if she'd recover. Saving her cost me many fate chips). This week she was given the blessing as a companion to Helena's Templar in a big ass ceremony at the Templar mothership in Boise. It was really moving for her and got her back on track for wanting to open up to people again. And then Ian killed her. Well almost. She held on by the skin of her nails while being ambushed and beaten the f out of by some nasty acid spitting tunnelling monsters, held on 'til the baddies were all smoking corpses and then collapsed, one breath away from dead before the others were able to save her. It was a very nail-biting session for me.
Part of me thinks Ian did it on purpose, because I joked with him while we were out the night previous about how CJ was never going to die, but just in case I should probably start a back-up character in the unfortunate event I have a run of Phil's luck.
Aside from other occasional get-togethers, I reserve Sunday nights for nerdgames at Ian's with him, Paul, Phil and Dusty. Since I started with them in July, we've been playing the game Deadlands, run by Ian (I also play/run a nerdgame on either Friday or Saturday alternating weeks, and then go out for young guy partying the other weekend nights, for those keeping a tally; the family gets me weekdays and weekend mornings/days). I liken Deadlands to 4 parts Dark Tower, 2 parts Road Warrior and 1 part Unforgiven.
Now, it should be noted, that we use the term "nerdgame" with love. We're proud to get our gaming dork on every week, and it doesn't hamper our ability to have fantastic non-nerdy fun with non-nerdy people any other time. We aren't 300 pound, 30 y/o, hygenically challenged social misfits who still live in their mothers' basements.
The character I play there, C.J. Chambers, is a 17-year old female gunslinger who disguises herself as a male (leave it to me to play a member of the GLBT community in a nerdgame). She's illiterate and hiding it, comically clueless, absolutely afraid of dogs and vindictive as hell. And she's death walking with guns in each hand. I like cowboys.
In the eight months I've been playing there, maybe two weeks have passed, close to three at the absolute tops. In that time she's had her first drunken lesbian experience, fallen in love/been hopelessly smitten twice: each with gruff, taciturn men (one was mute). Each time the man died before she could reveal her feelings for them. All of her friends keep dying (only one from the original group she met when I joined remains alive--Dusty's Templar, Helena) and in some ways it's broken her spirit a bit (eg she's refusing to become friends with Paul and Phil's replacement characters for their dead ones--especially since Phil has been on a huge dying streak lately).
Every time I start to think she's getting to be really cool, Ian puts her in major life threatening crises (the worst was when he poisoned me and left me still dying at the end of the session to wait two weeks before finding out if she'd recover. Saving her cost me many fate chips). This week she was given the blessing as a companion to Helena's Templar in a big ass ceremony at the Templar mothership in Boise. It was really moving for her and got her back on track for wanting to open up to people again. And then Ian killed her. Well almost. She held on by the skin of her nails while being ambushed and beaten the f out of by some nasty acid spitting tunnelling monsters, held on 'til the baddies were all smoking corpses and then collapsed, one breath away from dead before the others were able to save her. It was a very nail-biting session for me.
Part of me thinks Ian did it on purpose, because I joked with him while we were out the night previous about how CJ was never going to die, but just in case I should probably start a back-up character in the unfortunate event I have a run of Phil's luck.
Poem of the Day
Daddy
by Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time --
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You --
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two --
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
by Sylvia Plath
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time --
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You --
Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two --
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Poem of the Day
One of my favorites:
lumpectomy eve
by Lucille Clifton
all night i dream of lips
that nursed and nursed
and the lonely nipple
lost in loss and the need
to feed that turns at last
on itself that will kill
its body for its hunger's sake
all night i hear the whispering
the soft
love calls you to this knife
for love for love
all night it is the one breast
comforting the other
Copyright Lucille Clifton 1996
lumpectomy eve
by Lucille Clifton
all night i dream of lips
that nursed and nursed
and the lonely nipple
lost in loss and the need
to feed that turns at last
on itself that will kill
its body for its hunger's sake
all night i hear the whispering
the soft
love calls you to this knife
for love for love
all night it is the one breast
comforting the other
Copyright Lucille Clifton 1996
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Poetry Time
April is National Poetry Month (how many of you even knew that?), and in celebration of this, I plan to post a poem here for all of you to read and ponder over and hopefully enjoy every day that I come on to blog (which means not necessarily every day).
Some days will be my poetry, some days will be others' poetry (and hell, if you have a poem, you can e-mail it to me with "ok to publish on blog" and your name, or even post it to one of the comments), some days will be famous poets/poems.
I'm starting off with an old haiku of mine:
Little Tokyo
small baby walking
topples blocks down and moves on
Godzilla stomping
Some days will be my poetry, some days will be others' poetry (and hell, if you have a poem, you can e-mail it to me with "ok to publish on blog" and your name, or even post it to one of the comments), some days will be famous poets/poems.
I'm starting off with an old haiku of mine:
Little Tokyo
small baby walking
topples blocks down and moves on
Godzilla stomping
Friday, April 01, 2005
I want a refund
In 1988 DC Comics gave its fans the opportunity to vote on the fate of one of its comic book characters: the second Robin the Boy Wonder, Jason Todd. As I had given up on DC by then because of feeling personally slighted by the deaths of all my favorite characters in Crisis, I was happy to vote for Jason's death, repeatedly over many phone lines, even though I actually kinda liked him. Anyhoo, it was a 900 number and it cost money to vote him dead. This week an issue of Batman came out revealing that Jason Todd has returned from the dead. Since my vote no longer counts. And I PAID for my vote. I want a refund.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Yipee Ki Yay
Sin City opens tomorrow and I was fortunate enough to rope the lesbians in to babysit all the kids so that Denise could join me and Ian (and whomever else) to see it after she gets off work.
As the weeks grew nearer and nearer the release, I've surprised myself at just how much anticipation I'm having over this movie. It had so better not suck.
As the weeks grew nearer and nearer the release, I've surprised myself at just how much anticipation I'm having over this movie. It had so better not suck.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Crap on a Stick
I went out with the Chrises and watched Ring 2 tonight. What an utter piece of garbage. Sure, by sequel law it would have to be an inferior picture, but it’s really far up there on the scale of awful movies. It starts off completely ignoring the rules established in the first movie when Samara kills a teenager who had made a copy of the film in order to save himself (now you have to make a copy and get someone to watch the copy or you die). From there it goes downhill really far, really fast into a poorly executed parable on motherhood and sacrifice. The one shining thing about the film is that I didn’t pay to see it, as the Chrises ponied up the $7.50 before I could reach the ticket booth.
Top 5 Worst Movies of All Time:
1. Highlander 2
2. Ring 2
3. Blair Witch 2
4. Hangman’s Curse (lest you think they’re ALL sequels)
5. Open Water
Top 5 Worst Movies of All Time:
1. Highlander 2
2. Ring 2
3. Blair Witch 2
4. Hangman’s Curse (lest you think they’re ALL sequels)
5. Open Water
Monday, March 14, 2005
Dawn of the Brain-Dead
I realize that not many of you visit our little poli-blog, Good Mourning America, and that's fine of course. But I do want to direct you to a post I made there this evening (shares a title with this post and is hyperlinked to this post's title). Drew recently posted there about recent censorship issues, and I came across another that really moved me to tears over the idiocy of it all.
If this kid gets any sort of legal punishment, what repercussions can we expect? If Stephen King writes another monster novel set in Maine, should he be arrested and charged with terrorist threats towards the people of Maine?
If this kid gets any sort of legal punishment, what repercussions can we expect? If Stephen King writes another monster novel set in Maine, should he be arrested and charged with terrorist threats towards the people of Maine?
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Green Envy
Out and about downtown today with Lash, we went out and got haircuts and then tried finding new parking downtown in order to hit a couple stores. I'd forgotten how densely crowded downtown is on early Saturdays, in good part due to farmer's market. I should consider stopping sleeping in on the weekends.
Anyhow, was greatly annoyed to see an open parking space in the public parking, only to find that half of the space is actually occupied by an SUV driven by what must have been a half blind person, as the damned vehicle took up two parking spaces without actually filling either. At the very least s/he should have had to pay both meters for the parking spaces.
Eventually we found parking elsewhere and were able to hoof our way tyo the various shops I wanted to hit. The first one had mysteriously disappeared in the six months since the last time I'd shopped there. This sucked as only two stores (that I know of) have the green hair dye I need-this store and a more expensive one. Since this one had cloaked or something, I had to get new dye at the not as cheap store. Then we dropped by BaT Comics to chat with Ian before grabbing some lunch and heading home.
Today I am freshly green again. I tried a new bleach (my hair is too dark to make green without first making it blonde) and it barely made my scalp itch with irritation. I'm definitely using this brand again. I should take a new headshot for my profile. Hopefully I'll remember to light it better as well.
Anyhow, was greatly annoyed to see an open parking space in the public parking, only to find that half of the space is actually occupied by an SUV driven by what must have been a half blind person, as the damned vehicle took up two parking spaces without actually filling either. At the very least s/he should have had to pay both meters for the parking spaces.
Eventually we found parking elsewhere and were able to hoof our way tyo the various shops I wanted to hit. The first one had mysteriously disappeared in the six months since the last time I'd shopped there. This sucked as only two stores (that I know of) have the green hair dye I need-this store and a more expensive one. Since this one had cloaked or something, I had to get new dye at the not as cheap store. Then we dropped by BaT Comics to chat with Ian before grabbing some lunch and heading home.
Today I am freshly green again. I tried a new bleach (my hair is too dark to make green without first making it blonde) and it barely made my scalp itch with irritation. I'm definitely using this brand again. I should take a new headshot for my profile. Hopefully I'll remember to light it better as well.
Nine Months
It's hard to believe that I started this blog nine months ago. I read somewhere recently that the older you get, the more time seems to fly between each year. Stephen King (darn you!) even wrote a short story about this called "My Pretty Pony." I never really started noticing the veracity of this until I started getting older.
Almost a year ago I was whining here about turning thirty (an event that still bugs me. I hate getting older). In three short months I'm going to be thirty-one. This blog will be a year old (it really does seem like it was just yesterday). I'll have a new baby.
I just killed the most ginormous spider. It was huge (about the size of a quarter), yellow and mere inches from my knuckles perched above my keyboard. Ick. I'm getting spine chills just typing about it.
It's 3 am and I'm still awake... darn you insomnia!
Almost a year ago I was whining here about turning thirty (an event that still bugs me. I hate getting older). In three short months I'm going to be thirty-one. This blog will be a year old (it really does seem like it was just yesterday). I'll have a new baby.
I just killed the most ginormous spider. It was huge (about the size of a quarter), yellow and mere inches from my knuckles perched above my keyboard. Ick. I'm getting spine chills just typing about it.
It's 3 am and I'm still awake... darn you insomnia!
Friday, March 04, 2005
Frustrated
Sometimes it's really aggravating. I know some of my friends are feeling the same ire... I get so tired of a life where the best multiple college degrees get you is a job in a shoe store.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Tattoo You
I'm under heavy pressure to re-dye my hair before St. Patrick's Day. Apparently, the green tips aren't enough for people so I must end my laziness. I'm toying with the idea of keeping the sideburns this time and greening them as well.
So, I've pretty much decided on getting a tattoo, and saving guitar lessons for when I can afford the time, or beg them off of Paul, and the ideas I've been considering:
1. Lash & Aeia's names spelled in Japanese Kanji and/or hirigana on my left chest (with room for future baby later).
2. Bands around my arm consisting of the following repeating number sequences: 91397 and 20400 (my kids' birthdays), with new bands added with new babies.
3. The male/female symbols (circle+cross and circle+arrow, only the circle+arrow twice) with the circles interlocking on all three to symbolize my bisexuality.
4. A barcode on my inner forearm (my statement against The Man).
Thoughts? Votes? Other suggestions?
So, I've pretty much decided on getting a tattoo, and saving guitar lessons for when I can afford the time, or beg them off of Paul, and the ideas I've been considering:
1. Lash & Aeia's names spelled in Japanese Kanji and/or hirigana on my left chest (with room for future baby later).
2. Bands around my arm consisting of the following repeating number sequences: 91397 and 20400 (my kids' birthdays), with new bands added with new babies.
3. The male/female symbols (circle+cross and circle+arrow, only the circle+arrow twice) with the circles interlocking on all three to symbolize my bisexuality.
4. A barcode on my inner forearm (my statement against The Man).
Thoughts? Votes? Other suggestions?
Insomniac
It used to be that I was just a night person--heavily so. There was this one summer where I'd be out with "friends" 'til 2 every morning and then be right back up for work at 5 in the morning, nap after work, repeat (I so miss that summer, by the way). I've alluded to this summer before, but the people involved are likely the only ones I'll not write about, sorry.
Eventually, I became used to going to bed at a more respectable hour, and getting up relatively early still. I've come to enjoy sleep.
That said, lately I've been struggling to get myself to bed before one in the morning (and then likewise struggle to wake at six). If I try going abed earlier, I just toss and turn, or stare at the clock.
It's beginning to vex me. That and the fact that my incredibly annoying bronchitis is still plaguing me 2-3 times a day.
Sigh.
So, does anyone have any suggestions for helping a poor man sleep?
Eventually, I became used to going to bed at a more respectable hour, and getting up relatively early still. I've come to enjoy sleep.
That said, lately I've been struggling to get myself to bed before one in the morning (and then likewise struggle to wake at six). If I try going abed earlier, I just toss and turn, or stare at the clock.
It's beginning to vex me. That and the fact that my incredibly annoying bronchitis is still plaguing me 2-3 times a day.
Sigh.
So, does anyone have any suggestions for helping a poor man sleep?
Monday, February 21, 2005
Busy Beaver
Been doing a lot of errand running this week. Between meetings at the foster agency, kids' counselling appointments and making sure all the kids get some new clothes, I'm still surprised I found time to sleep last week. Spent most of this weekend out of the house with various friends, doing movies, etc. grabbing dinner, playing nerdgames Sunday latenight.
Today I baby-sat for Chrissy. The younger kids all had some difficulty behaving this morning, which was a bit of a pain because I hate reprimanding the little guys too much. I'd rather they just have all the fun they want, but when they start breaking rules and hurting each other. Enh. No one's eyes were poked out at any rate.
Finally got the slashed tires on the Mustang replaced today, and got it towed to the shop to finally be repaired. Looking forward to getting it back so I can drive it again while we then take the van in for a much-needed check-up.
Today I baby-sat for Chrissy. The younger kids all had some difficulty behaving this morning, which was a bit of a pain because I hate reprimanding the little guys too much. I'd rather they just have all the fun they want, but when they start breaking rules and hurting each other. Enh. No one's eyes were poked out at any rate.
Finally got the slashed tires on the Mustang replaced today, and got it towed to the shop to finally be repaired. Looking forward to getting it back so I can drive it again while we then take the van in for a much-needed check-up.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Nerdgames: the Next Generation
Some know I run the HeroClix tournaments at our local comic store every week. This past Wednesday we finally got in the demo kit for the demo that I ran two weeks ago (a demo kit includes player sign-up cards, figures for use in demonstrating the game to newcomers, etc.) and donated up my own figures to those who showed. No big deal that, I give my extra clix to kids all the time, it helps bring them in and brings my tournament attendance up (so does having foster kids who like to play). This particular Wednesday, only a scarce few showed for the regular tournament, so they played and finished a good deal before we normally finished, so I decided to hold an impromptu second demo where I taught Aeia the very very basic basics of the game while explaining it in small detail for those interested passersby. Lash, who had been in the tournament and taken second, and was now done, helped me train her by playing against her. Beginners luck had her rolling dice superior to Lash's and she won against him, which excited her very much (and now she's asking to play all the time, so more training must follow), so now I know I've both kids hooked on the nerdgames (as Lash is anxious to be "old enough" to play rpgs as well).
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Memorial Day
Tomorrow (Saturday) morning is the memorial for Lash's friend Kailee and her family. He wants to go and I'll be taking him. I wish I could read his mind, know what he's thinking and feeling. Every now and then he gets this really withdrawn expression on his face and quiets up. I asked him tonight if he wanted to talk with me about Kailee and he said he would, but he hasn't finished thinking about it yet. He hasn't finished thinking about it yet. He's seven years old and I don't think I could have expressed myself that way in the same situation at thirty.
I'll post whatever I frickin' want. Gosh!
Some people are going to totally get that title, and everyone else is going to think I might need meds.
So, today was Aeia's fifth birthday, but since we're spending some of the latter portion of tomorrow celebrating it (as the earlier portion will be spent at other business), I opted to make tonight a movie night and sat down to four movies I've either really wanted to see or had been heavily recommended to see: Alien vs. Predator, Open Water, Napolean Dynamite and Garden State.
AVP: It was really about what I'd expected, and I felt it was better than I'd heard. I really enjoyed that out of just three Predator's important to the plot, two of them were dispatched by one badass Alien (and the third was offed by the queen. I call that a win for the Aliens, even if it was the Predators that flew off at the end as the survivors). I did feel that it skewed more in favor of the Predators when it came to depicting killing of humans, which was sad as the Aliens are much more scary human killers.
Open Water: For an Indy flick, it was decent. For anything else, it was so very incredibly boring. Shark Week was brought up so many times that I realized I would have enjoyed myself more had I been watching Shark Week. I seriously could not recommend someone spending eighty minutes of their life on this.
Napolean Dynamite: I was probably never going to see this. KC recommended it to me, and he never likes movies enough to recommend them to others. Ian and the boys have been annoying me all week with quotes from the film too (annoying because I didn't get them). So, I watched it and it was brilliant. Brilliant.
Garden State: I bought this for myself without having seen it (a recurring trend of mine I'll blog about some other time)--what can I say, I'm Zach Braff's whore. A vast departure in tone from Scrubs (or was it?), but I absolutely loved it. It had a fantastic blend of drama, romance and comedy (although, honestly, I wished it could have ended less predictably, but I don't think anything else would have been satisfying as an end either--damn you and your "live for the journey" Stephen King!). When I recategorize my dvd shelves (planned for if/when we move) I think I'm going to bring back the "Good Drama" and "Bad Drama" sections (guess which section had a really really really small selection) it'll fall into the Good Drama section (which I think only has like five other movies: Pieces of April, Life as a House, American Beauty, As Good As it Gets and whatever one I'm forgetting at 12:43 in the morning).
So, today was Aeia's fifth birthday, but since we're spending some of the latter portion of tomorrow celebrating it (as the earlier portion will be spent at other business), I opted to make tonight a movie night and sat down to four movies I've either really wanted to see or had been heavily recommended to see: Alien vs. Predator, Open Water, Napolean Dynamite and Garden State.
AVP: It was really about what I'd expected, and I felt it was better than I'd heard. I really enjoyed that out of just three Predator's important to the plot, two of them were dispatched by one badass Alien (and the third was offed by the queen. I call that a win for the Aliens, even if it was the Predators that flew off at the end as the survivors). I did feel that it skewed more in favor of the Predators when it came to depicting killing of humans, which was sad as the Aliens are much more scary human killers.
Open Water: For an Indy flick, it was decent. For anything else, it was so very incredibly boring. Shark Week was brought up so many times that I realized I would have enjoyed myself more had I been watching Shark Week. I seriously could not recommend someone spending eighty minutes of their life on this.
Napolean Dynamite: I was probably never going to see this. KC recommended it to me, and he never likes movies enough to recommend them to others. Ian and the boys have been annoying me all week with quotes from the film too (annoying because I didn't get them). So, I watched it and it was brilliant. Brilliant.
Garden State: I bought this for myself without having seen it (a recurring trend of mine I'll blog about some other time)--what can I say, I'm Zach Braff's whore. A vast departure in tone from Scrubs (or was it?), but I absolutely loved it. It had a fantastic blend of drama, romance and comedy (although, honestly, I wished it could have ended less predictably, but I don't think anything else would have been satisfying as an end either--damn you and your "live for the journey" Stephen King!). When I recategorize my dvd shelves (planned for if/when we move) I think I'm going to bring back the "Good Drama" and "Bad Drama" sections (guess which section had a really really really small selection) it'll fall into the Good Drama section (which I think only has like five other movies: Pieces of April, Life as a House, American Beauty, As Good As it Gets and whatever one I'm forgetting at 12:43 in the morning).
Thursday, February 03, 2005
God Bless the BBC America
I do so love the BBC show Coupling. It's a rather blatant rip-off slash merging of Friends and Sex in the City, only it's actually funny. Last night's Jane subplot where she falls for the Christian guy and joins his support group, only to explain to the group that God is fictional, and regionally fictional at that (as he's different in different regions) and then waxes poetic about how sexy the god Thor is with his muscles and his blonde hair and his hammer... I don't know. The show left me positively giddy.
Ditto last night's Daily Show with the bobble-head Steve Colbert.
Moving on to tonight's new episode of CSI... for four seasons now I've been harping about how unstable Sarah Sidle is when it comes to domestic violence cases and it only now finally gets brought up? And I appreciate finally being let in on her big secret, but I find it hard to believe that her superiors wouldn't have already had much of that information beforehand. Parents murdering each other must show up on some sort of psyche profile when you join the police academy, I'd hope anyway.
Ditto last night's Daily Show with the bobble-head Steve Colbert.
Moving on to tonight's new episode of CSI... for four seasons now I've been harping about how unstable Sarah Sidle is when it comes to domestic violence cases and it only now finally gets brought up? And I appreciate finally being let in on her big secret, but I find it hard to believe that her superiors wouldn't have already had much of that information beforehand. Parents murdering each other must show up on some sort of psyche profile when you join the police academy, I'd hope anyway.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Cough, Cough, Cough
Well, the antibiotics are gone, and they took the sinus infection away with them. The cough and bronchitis, of course, are still here. Not raging as bad as before, but still way deep into the range of annoying. If I exert myself, I cough a fit. If I eat I cough a fit...
Sigh.
Lash is doing better.
Sigh.
Lash is doing better.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Loss
Yesterday Lash learned that one of his friends had died in a car accident this week. Her family was on a trip to Mexico, driving through this awful fog we've had lately. Another car was parked on the highway and they didn't see it in time due to the fog (and lack of lights from the car). When they tried to avoid it, they rolled. The entire family was killed.
To his credit, Lash is dealing with the news fairly ok. He had a couple spontaneous crying jags yesterday. We talked about what had happened and how his friend is being missed.
It's such a hard situation.
To his credit, Lash is dealing with the news fairly ok. He had a couple spontaneous crying jags yesterday. We talked about what had happened and how his friend is being missed.
It's such a hard situation.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Ill
I was so sick Monday that I was unable to get to the doctor. Instead I spent the day unconscious on the couch (and so our anniversary was fairly uneventful as well).
Tuesday I made Denise take Lash and me to the doctor (Lash had begun coughing and sniffling Monday).
Lash had the beginings of an ear infection. He's now on Dimetap.
I have really bad bronchitis and really really bad sinus infection. My head is in constant ache from all of the coughing, as are my back, shoulders, sides and diaphragm. I couldn't use the restroom yesterday without getting a cramp in my belly (and I've discovered it's impossible to bend over the bowl and vomit if your stomach is cramping). Feverish and lightheaded I'm having some difficulty concentrating. I spent Tuesday, most of it, unconscious on the couch as well.
I'm on ibuprofin, an albuterol inhaler, a steroid inhaler and antibiotics.
I'm gonna take a couple more days off and rest and try to feel better. Hopefully I'll be in fighting order again soon.
Tuesday I made Denise take Lash and me to the doctor (Lash had begun coughing and sniffling Monday).
Lash had the beginings of an ear infection. He's now on Dimetap.
I have really bad bronchitis and really really bad sinus infection. My head is in constant ache from all of the coughing, as are my back, shoulders, sides and diaphragm. I couldn't use the restroom yesterday without getting a cramp in my belly (and I've discovered it's impossible to bend over the bowl and vomit if your stomach is cramping). Feverish and lightheaded I'm having some difficulty concentrating. I spent Tuesday, most of it, unconscious on the couch as well.
I'm on ibuprofin, an albuterol inhaler, a steroid inhaler and antibiotics.
I'm gonna take a couple more days off and rest and try to feel better. Hopefully I'll be in fighting order again soon.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Still Sick
Well, my cough is still going strong. It's gotten quite annoying, frankly, and now that cough drops are no longer amelliorating it I think I'm going to make sure I have the free time, and take it, to go see a doctor and get this taken care of. I hate seeing doctors because they always lecture me on shit they think I can actually control, like reducing my stress... short of mind altering stress medication, the only way to reduce stress would be for me to abandon my family responsibilities, which isn't going to happen. I'm just so tired of the whole thing. Doesn't matter what I go in for, I always get the lecture on reducing the stress in my life and eating better (frankly, I eat quite healthily, I just don't show it). Which all leads up to being wracked with a cough for almost two months now and not having it looked at.
Sigh.
I imagine I'll be getting it done Monday, which also happens to be mine and Denise's anniversary.
Sigh.
I imagine I'll be getting it done Monday, which also happens to be mine and Denise's anniversary.
Monday, January 10, 2005
the Wheels of the Ka go Round and Round
I have forgiven Stephen King.
He still killed my Jake, which still pisses me off a good deal. And he still shattered the fourth wall left and right, which annoyed me to no end--especially when he interrupted the novel prior to the last twenty pages to urge readers to stop reading (which I actually did).
But it's because of this advice that the Dark Tower ended in a place where it feels somewhat redeemed from my previous anger.
I now have six weeks of comic books that have been waiting for me to read them, and then on to something new to read or re-read.
He still killed my Jake, which still pisses me off a good deal. And he still shattered the fourth wall left and right, which annoyed me to no end--especially when he interrupted the novel prior to the last twenty pages to urge readers to stop reading (which I actually did).
But it's because of this advice that the Dark Tower ended in a place where it feels somewhat redeemed from my previous anger.
I now have six weeks of comic books that have been waiting for me to read them, and then on to something new to read or re-read.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Baby Update
I realized I haven't blogged any pregnancy news since announcing the discovery of a lump in Denise's breast.
As far as the ultrasound tech is concerned, the lump was just a swollen gland. I also am no longer able to feel it.
The ultrasound revealed that the placenta is currently resting on her cervix, which it should not be doing. It's likely that it will move off of the cervix as her uterus expands, which is the scenario we all want. If it doesn't, when she goes into labor they'll have to do a Caesarian or Denise'll bleed to death.
While it's all likely to be all right, it's actually really disheartening for me (Denise is not worried at all). With Lash, Denise almost died after birthing him. The placenta caused other problems when she was pregnant with Aeia and we almost lost Aeia.
As much as we want a larger family, I don't think I can risk making her pregnant again after this one.
As far as the ultrasound tech is concerned, the lump was just a swollen gland. I also am no longer able to feel it.
The ultrasound revealed that the placenta is currently resting on her cervix, which it should not be doing. It's likely that it will move off of the cervix as her uterus expands, which is the scenario we all want. If it doesn't, when she goes into labor they'll have to do a Caesarian or Denise'll bleed to death.
While it's all likely to be all right, it's actually really disheartening for me (Denise is not worried at all). With Lash, Denise almost died after birthing him. The placenta caused other problems when she was pregnant with Aeia and we almost lost Aeia.
As much as we want a larger family, I don't think I can risk making her pregnant again after this one.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Bad Hair Week
I got my haircut two days ago and I hate it. I look like a jarhead, which is fine for those who want to look like a jarhead. I, however, do not. Oh well, at least my hair grows quickly and I'll have it in a fauxhawk and dyed green again soon enough. I'm just tired of wearing a knitted cap to cover the bad hair already.
Fuck Stephen King. Fuck Him in His Fucking Ear!
As many of you know, I've been faithfully re-reading the Dark Tower series, and first reading the last three books in the series (all released in the past year), far and beyond my favorite story of Stephen King's. I write this in defense of those nutjobs (of which I must be one) who get so engrossed in the lives of fictional characters that what happens to these characters creates intense emotional, often somewhat insane, reactions. I mean, when Joey chose Pacey over Dawson, millions of teen girls were livid.
For me, it comes to this, for some unknown reason, my favorite chearacters always die. It's as if authors somehow channel into me, find what needs to be done in order to make me love a character and then goes out of their way to kill the character off, often in nonsensical out-of-character deaths. Sometimes it feels as if the author is saying that the characters I love aren't good enough. I hate falling in love with a fictional character and then seeing the character die.
It's less of a shock if the character is short-lived (perhaps spanning just one book, television episode or portion of a movie), but even then, if extremely well written/portrayed, it still gets me. It's worse when the fictional character is a part of your psyche for years and years. I can see why Annie goes so crazy in Misery and for the first time ever, I think I'm actually siding with her.
Take the Dark Tower as an example. While I've been reading the series only since 1992 (thirteen years for those who can't subtract), there are readers who've been with this cast of characters since the seventies; readers who have loved these characters and clamored for more books and lined King's pockets for thirty years. But note where I put the emphasis, because for true fans, that's the only place that really matters.
Imagine if Sam Raimi wrote an Evil Dead 4 movie. Imagine he writes himself in as a character--a character named Sam Raimi who created the universe that the main protagonist Ash lives in. Imagine this fourth installment revealing that for in order for Ash to save humanity from the Deadites, he has to save Sam Raimi from being hit by a van while walking in the woods so that Sam Raimi can live to write the fourth movie you're watching unfold. And then Ash gets hit by the van and dies saving Sam Raimi.
What the guff, man? Let's not just tear apart the fourth wall. Let's not just toss in an incredible headache of surrealism into a form that doesn't quite need it. No, instead, let's do all of that AND kill off our favorite character while doing so.
So, I'm a bit over halfway through the final book of the Dark Tower, already broken up inside a little over what's happened thus far, and then King does exactly that (only, obviously, it isn't Sam Raimi and Ash, it's Stephen King and his character, saving himself from the van that hit him in real life).
I literally almost stopped reading the book. I know that if I don't finish it in the next couple days, I likely will never finish it. These have been characters that have been a part of my psyche for half my life almost. This is a series I'm constantly dreaming up cast wish lists and script ideas for, because while there is no movie, there is one in my head. Though fictional, stepping into their world is like visiting an old friend. Stephen King just hit one of my best friends with a van meant for him.
For me, it comes to this, for some unknown reason, my favorite chearacters always die. It's as if authors somehow channel into me, find what needs to be done in order to make me love a character and then goes out of their way to kill the character off, often in nonsensical out-of-character deaths. Sometimes it feels as if the author is saying that the characters I love aren't good enough. I hate falling in love with a fictional character and then seeing the character die.
It's less of a shock if the character is short-lived (perhaps spanning just one book, television episode or portion of a movie), but even then, if extremely well written/portrayed, it still gets me. It's worse when the fictional character is a part of your psyche for years and years. I can see why Annie goes so crazy in Misery and for the first time ever, I think I'm actually siding with her.
Take the Dark Tower as an example. While I've been reading the series only since 1992 (thirteen years for those who can't subtract), there are readers who've been with this cast of characters since the seventies; readers who have loved these characters and clamored for more books and lined King's pockets for thirty years. But note where I put the emphasis, because for true fans, that's the only place that really matters.
Imagine if Sam Raimi wrote an Evil Dead 4 movie. Imagine he writes himself in as a character--a character named Sam Raimi who created the universe that the main protagonist Ash lives in. Imagine this fourth installment revealing that for in order for Ash to save humanity from the Deadites, he has to save Sam Raimi from being hit by a van while walking in the woods so that Sam Raimi can live to write the fourth movie you're watching unfold. And then Ash gets hit by the van and dies saving Sam Raimi.
What the guff, man? Let's not just tear apart the fourth wall. Let's not just toss in an incredible headache of surrealism into a form that doesn't quite need it. No, instead, let's do all of that AND kill off our favorite character while doing so.
So, I'm a bit over halfway through the final book of the Dark Tower, already broken up inside a little over what's happened thus far, and then King does exactly that (only, obviously, it isn't Sam Raimi and Ash, it's Stephen King and his character, saving himself from the van that hit him in real life).
I literally almost stopped reading the book. I know that if I don't finish it in the next couple days, I likely will never finish it. These have been characters that have been a part of my psyche for half my life almost. This is a series I'm constantly dreaming up cast wish lists and script ideas for, because while there is no movie, there is one in my head. Though fictional, stepping into their world is like visiting an old friend. Stephen King just hit one of my best friends with a van meant for him.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Congratulations, It's a Ham
Lacking all originality, I made a ham for the holiday (Christmas for the kids, non-denominational winter celebration for me) and, of course, I'm quite pleased with how it turned out.
I took a nice small city ham, hand-sliced the criss-crosses all around its flesh, put it in a pan tented with foil and baked it at 250 for two hours. Then I took off the foil and peeled off all of the rind (not all that difficult if you cut the criss-crosses in). After that, brushed on some dijon mustard, patted on dark brown sugar, and sprayed it all down with Dr. Pepper. Normally, the doctor would be followed by either breadcrumbs or crumbed ginger snap cookies, but I actually forgot to buy either of them and nothing was open Christmas Day...
Then the whole thing went back in at 350 for another hour to ninety minutes and came out a beautiful, moist and tasty dish.
As for the materialistic end of the holiday, I was happy that we were able to pull off more gift buying for the kids than I'd anticipated. Lash and Aeia were really cool and positive with the prospect of not getting much, which made it happier for me to end up giving them more. Aeia wanted, and got, these fuzzy pink boots that are to die for. She and Lash have spent the past three days doing little else than playing with legos, pirates and green army men.
Denise and I spent the day (from nine to nine thirty or so) watching the extended Lord of the Rings in its entirety. Those extended versions add so much more richness to the films. I love them.
I also want to publicly thank a friend of mine who, despite bad money problems of his own right now, went out of his way to get me a copy of the third Invincible trade paperback and get it signed by the writer. Thanks, buddy.
I need to buy stamps and send thank-you cards.
I took a nice small city ham, hand-sliced the criss-crosses all around its flesh, put it in a pan tented with foil and baked it at 250 for two hours. Then I took off the foil and peeled off all of the rind (not all that difficult if you cut the criss-crosses in). After that, brushed on some dijon mustard, patted on dark brown sugar, and sprayed it all down with Dr. Pepper. Normally, the doctor would be followed by either breadcrumbs or crumbed ginger snap cookies, but I actually forgot to buy either of them and nothing was open Christmas Day...
Then the whole thing went back in at 350 for another hour to ninety minutes and came out a beautiful, moist and tasty dish.
As for the materialistic end of the holiday, I was happy that we were able to pull off more gift buying for the kids than I'd anticipated. Lash and Aeia were really cool and positive with the prospect of not getting much, which made it happier for me to end up giving them more. Aeia wanted, and got, these fuzzy pink boots that are to die for. She and Lash have spent the past three days doing little else than playing with legos, pirates and green army men.
Denise and I spent the day (from nine to nine thirty or so) watching the extended Lord of the Rings in its entirety. Those extended versions add so much more richness to the films. I love them.
I also want to publicly thank a friend of mine who, despite bad money problems of his own right now, went out of his way to get me a copy of the third Invincible trade paperback and get it signed by the writer. Thanks, buddy.
I need to buy stamps and send thank-you cards.
Pet Peeve
I've finally gotten Denise to start reading the Dark Tower; meanwhile I'm only about half-way through the final book myself. I don't want to possibly spoil the book for her if she reads this, but I've just finished the battle at Algul Siento for those who've read the book and am upset--not because of the death that occurs, but because, as typical, King freakin' broadcast the death way in advance.
Stephen King has this nasty habit, and as much as I enjoy his work, this still really bugs me every time (some people might say his nasty habits include being too wordy--not me; inserting himself too much in his works--doesn't bug me too much, a little though, particularly in this series; the way some of his novels that aren't anything alike are still somehow connected--I actually always dug this, even more now). This one nasty habit he has always sets me off. Always makes what could be a great book, just a good book--he preannounces the deaths of characters (with lines like "so and so promised to tell everything he knew when they had a moment to rest, but that time never would come in this life").
Why on earth does he do this? Does he feel it might soften the blow for his reader or something if we know way ahead of time (in this case, an entire book ahead of time, as he forecast this specific death in Song of Susannah)?
I hate it. I'd rather be shocked and saddened by a death. I'd rather read a book wondering what is going to happen (something he made me do with excellence regarding Jake and Callahan and the end of SoS). The surprise is such a better emotional impact. Instead, he sets things up with heavy-handed forewarnings that leave me reading the book wondering when instead of if.
I really wish he'd stop doing that.
Stephen King has this nasty habit, and as much as I enjoy his work, this still really bugs me every time (some people might say his nasty habits include being too wordy--not me; inserting himself too much in his works--doesn't bug me too much, a little though, particularly in this series; the way some of his novels that aren't anything alike are still somehow connected--I actually always dug this, even more now). This one nasty habit he has always sets me off. Always makes what could be a great book, just a good book--he preannounces the deaths of characters (with lines like "so and so promised to tell everything he knew when they had a moment to rest, but that time never would come in this life").
Why on earth does he do this? Does he feel it might soften the blow for his reader or something if we know way ahead of time (in this case, an entire book ahead of time, as he forecast this specific death in Song of Susannah)?
I hate it. I'd rather be shocked and saddened by a death. I'd rather read a book wondering what is going to happen (something he made me do with excellence regarding Jake and Callahan and the end of SoS). The surprise is such a better emotional impact. Instead, he sets things up with heavy-handed forewarnings that leave me reading the book wondering when instead of if.
I really wish he'd stop doing that.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Burning Down the House
Spent some time with the kids today watching a little tv. It's funny, I can put in a children's movie, and they'll invariably grow bored if they've already seen it. Half-hour cartoons work slightly better, but not 100%. Now, Good Eats or 30 Minute Meals on the other hand... both kids will sit with me and watch them in re-runs. Aeia, all four and a half years of her is a 30-minute meals junkie. She really loves watching the show, and always wants to help me now in the kitchen--which is uber-cool, since I'm all in favor of kids learning kitchen safety and comfort. Today we rewatched the ham episode of Good Eats and veal cutlet rolled with mozzarella, bacon and herbs on the other show. It looks yummy and I'll have to give it a go.
So anyway, after getting the kids excited about the arrival of Santa after they get off to bed, Denise sets to baking cookies. No real feat here, since she got the premade dough (not that I hold it against her--while I love cooking, and am excelent at it, I loathe baking). I don't know how many batches of cookies she burned, all I know is that in a six-bedroom, two story apartment with three smoke detectors, she got all of them to go off, and two of them to go off more than once. Cookies.
So anyway, after getting the kids excited about the arrival of Santa after they get off to bed, Denise sets to baking cookies. No real feat here, since she got the premade dough (not that I hold it against her--while I love cooking, and am excelent at it, I loathe baking). I don't know how many batches of cookies she burned, all I know is that in a six-bedroom, two story apartment with three smoke detectors, she got all of them to go off, and two of them to go off more than once. Cookies.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Reading
At the moment, I'm reading the Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower. I've been waiting for this series to complete itself for just over fifteen years now, since I first read the first book in the series. This past summer I sped through the first three books again, stalled a bit on Wizard and Glass (while one of the books I liked most in the series, I was overly busy and had trouble finding reading time), then I picked up steam again on Wolves of Calla and blasted through Song of Susannah. Now I have slightly more free time at home for a couple weeks, and I find myself slowing down on my reading. Am I doing it because the kids are home and I get more time with them instead? Am I slowing down because this book is The End and maybe deep down I didn't want Stephen King to finish--deep down I'd rather he died (like the fictional version of him IN the series does) so I could always draw my own conclusions as to what happens?
(Personally, I always thought Jake would be the one to make it to the Tower, and not Roland...now I guess we'll see since I will eventually finish the book).
(Personally, I always thought Jake would be the one to make it to the Tower, and not Roland...now I guess we'll see since I will eventually finish the book).
Monday, December 20, 2004
Taking a Break From Cracking My Knuckles
...seriously. I've been doing it all evening.
The past week and a half or so has seen me coughing, a lot, wheezing, I have this nice raspy back current to my voice. I should probably go see a doctor, but I probably won't rationalize myself as having the time to do so until after Christmas (all week I've been mispeaking and calling it Thanksgiving; I even almost typed it as such). And hopefully by then, with the help of much orange juice, it'll have taken care of itself. Wouldn't it be funny if I had a mild case of pneumonia or something?
Our friend KC gave us a lottery ticket for Christmas. We won twelve bucks! Thanks KC.
I am so not looking forward to Tuesday and Wednesday, as that is when I'll be beginning, and ending, my holiday shopping (had to wait til Tuesday to know how much I can spend on the kids). I hate traffic this time of year, and holiday shopping as well. At least I'm saving some stress by holding my decision to only provide gifts for the kids--less stress over having to figure out the perfect gifts. Kids are so easy
The past week and a half or so has seen me coughing, a lot, wheezing, I have this nice raspy back current to my voice. I should probably go see a doctor, but I probably won't rationalize myself as having the time to do so until after Christmas (all week I've been mispeaking and calling it Thanksgiving; I even almost typed it as such). And hopefully by then, with the help of much orange juice, it'll have taken care of itself. Wouldn't it be funny if I had a mild case of pneumonia or something?
Our friend KC gave us a lottery ticket for Christmas. We won twelve bucks! Thanks KC.
I am so not looking forward to Tuesday and Wednesday, as that is when I'll be beginning, and ending, my holiday shopping (had to wait til Tuesday to know how much I can spend on the kids). I hate traffic this time of year, and holiday shopping as well. At least I'm saving some stress by holding my decision to only provide gifts for the kids--less stress over having to figure out the perfect gifts. Kids are so easy
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Aeia the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Yesterday was the Christmas party at Aeia's preschool. All of the little kids wore little self-made reindeer ears and had red lipstick noses.
Santa also came to the party and gave the children new coats (Aeia's is a reversible deal that looks retro seventies. She refused to have her picture taken with Santa, however. She doesn't really like him in person.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Warming Trends
Well, it seems that either 1. Our heater was fixed properly after-all and took some time getting going or 2. Our landlord entered illegally and fixed it while we were out at some point this week. Either way, it's been record colds here in Chico this year, but it's been much more bearable inside the last couple days.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Chilly
A couple weeks ago we came to realize that the reason our heating bill has been lower the past two bills was because our heater wasn't coming on when the thermostat indicated it should. We only started noticing it wasn't working because it has gotten much much colder of late.
So two weeks later, showing more promptness than usual, our landlord finally has the heating guy out here today. He's on the rook nearly a half hour and then comes down to say the problem was the pilot light to the furnace, which he relit, and our heat would be back in a few minutes. Then he took off. Two hours later, we still had no heat...
Renewed calls to landlord has him saying it'll get taken care of again, and correctly, tomorrow. hopefully none of us will freeze to death before then,.
So two weeks later, showing more promptness than usual, our landlord finally has the heating guy out here today. He's on the rook nearly a half hour and then comes down to say the problem was the pilot light to the furnace, which he relit, and our heat would be back in a few minutes. Then he took off. Two hours later, we still had no heat...
Renewed calls to landlord has him saying it'll get taken care of again, and correctly, tomorrow. hopefully none of us will freeze to death before then,.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
DSL Fidelity
My DSL provider (SBC Yahoo) sent yet another technician out yesterday (this time without even telling me) to check on my internet problem. Forget the fact that in three separate phone calls, after the first two visits had determined the same thing (that my modem was fried by the thunderstorm)--they still had to come see again. And came again to the same conclusion. They then tried to sell me a new modem for $170.
Had this happened during my first year of service, they would have replaced the modem gratis. If I were a new customer, I would get a new modem free in exchange for agreeing to keeping their service for a year. Instead, my fidelity to this particular provider is being rewarded not at all.
After I told this techie that I was expecting my mother's old modem, and that if it didn't work I would cancel their services and get a new provider, and a new modem through them, the techie was quite cool and actually tried to get his supervisor to give me a new modem free. No dice.
So, SBC is going to lose a customer. Once my mother's modem arrives, if it doesn't work (and given my expectations of her poor packing job, it won't), I'll be taking my business somewhere else, somewhere cheaper, and somewhere happy to take in my service.
Had this happened during my first year of service, they would have replaced the modem gratis. If I were a new customer, I would get a new modem free in exchange for agreeing to keeping their service for a year. Instead, my fidelity to this particular provider is being rewarded not at all.
After I told this techie that I was expecting my mother's old modem, and that if it didn't work I would cancel their services and get a new provider, and a new modem through them, the techie was quite cool and actually tried to get his supervisor to give me a new modem free. No dice.
So, SBC is going to lose a customer. Once my mother's modem arrives, if it doesn't work (and given my expectations of her poor packing job, it won't), I'll be taking my business somewhere else, somewhere cheaper, and somewhere happy to take in my service.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
the Tale of Two Thanksgivings
First comes Thursday, and the Thanksgiving celebration I hosted. Aside from myself, Denise, Lash, Aeia and #3.1, our friends Terry and Kathy (lump-referenced in this and many posts as "the lesbians") and my grandmother were in attendance. The lesbians were supposed to bring some nieces, but the nieces' mother had another homophobe day and they didn't get to come, nor did invited guests KC and Paul.
This was both the first year I'd done the turkey entirely on my own and the first time I'd ever cooked for my grandmother (she, her sister, her mother--all excellent old=school Portuguese cooks).
After thawing the turkey for four days, I got between the skin and flesh and gave it a rub down consisting of dijon mustard, teriyaki sauce, evoo, fresh parsely, sage, rosemary, time, garlic, juice and zest of lemon. Retained half the rub and added a cube of butter to it, and this was the basting fluid. The bird ended up awesome.
And if it hadn't, I had two more to try improving--Lash won a turkey in a school contest and Aeia's school donated turkeys to all of its students.
I also made homemade cranberry sauce. It proved too guormet for grandmother, who was expecting plain cranberry-sugar-water homemade sauce and mine was quite different. On the plus side, Kathy, who hates cranberry sauce, had two helpings (we both attribute it to the port that was part of the component).
Anyhow, it was a great success followed by a four hour game of Zombies!!! which my grandmother almost won and I eventually did win.
The next day we were invited to Chris and Chris' for a Thanksgiving meal. Denise had to work, but the rest of us went: the kids spending the day playing together, #B.1 playing video games and me chatting with friends. Their turkey had been brined with herbs and vegetable stock and ended up really moist and good (though I maintain mine was better).
This was both the first year I'd done the turkey entirely on my own and the first time I'd ever cooked for my grandmother (she, her sister, her mother--all excellent old=school Portuguese cooks).
After thawing the turkey for four days, I got between the skin and flesh and gave it a rub down consisting of dijon mustard, teriyaki sauce, evoo, fresh parsely, sage, rosemary, time, garlic, juice and zest of lemon. Retained half the rub and added a cube of butter to it, and this was the basting fluid. The bird ended up awesome.
And if it hadn't, I had two more to try improving--Lash won a turkey in a school contest and Aeia's school donated turkeys to all of its students.
I also made homemade cranberry sauce. It proved too guormet for grandmother, who was expecting plain cranberry-sugar-water homemade sauce and mine was quite different. On the plus side, Kathy, who hates cranberry sauce, had two helpings (we both attribute it to the port that was part of the component).
Anyhow, it was a great success followed by a four hour game of Zombies!!! which my grandmother almost won and I eventually did win.
The next day we were invited to Chris and Chris' for a Thanksgiving meal. Denise had to work, but the rest of us went: the kids spending the day playing together, #B.1 playing video games and me chatting with friends. Their turkey had been brined with herbs and vegetable stock and ended up really moist and good (though I maintain mine was better).
Friday, November 19, 2004
the News
On October 17th I blogged an entry that mentioned, off-handedly, that Denise's breasts seemed fuller, which could mean only two things. The one I was sure of proved true after we tested for it three weeks ago.
I hold to a superstitious belief that we don't announce these things until after the thirteenth week. Today we had a prenatal exam and the midwife says her best estimation is that Denise is fourteen weeks pregnant with our third child. So there you go--we're having another baby.
We'd been planning for this to happen. Had actually wanted the baby about a year now. It's due in mid-May. I'm hoping it'll be late like the other two so I can have a Gemini, rather than add the burden of Taurus' stubbornness on an already stubbornness-infused gene pool. As yet, things look good. So far there are no signs of the complications she had while carrying Aeia.
The midwife did discover a lump in Denise's right breast, though. I am, of course, concerned, but she seems confident it is a swollen gland due to the pregnancy. We'll find out in ultrasound in two weeks.
I hold to a superstitious belief that we don't announce these things until after the thirteenth week. Today we had a prenatal exam and the midwife says her best estimation is that Denise is fourteen weeks pregnant with our third child. So there you go--we're having another baby.
We'd been planning for this to happen. Had actually wanted the baby about a year now. It's due in mid-May. I'm hoping it'll be late like the other two so I can have a Gemini, rather than add the burden of Taurus' stubbornness on an already stubbornness-infused gene pool. As yet, things look good. So far there are no signs of the complications she had while carrying Aeia.
The midwife did discover a lump in Denise's right breast, though. I am, of course, concerned, but she seems confident it is a swollen gland due to the pregnancy. We'll find out in ultrasound in two weeks.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
the Return of the Top 5
I'm currently deeply immersed (and nearly done with) in reading Stephen King's The Wolves of Calla from the Dark Tower series of novels. I love these books. Wolves ties in some more of King's novels into this grand epic he's been building for so many years. And even though I cheated and read the last paragraph of the last book, I'm still looking forward to finishing Wolves, reading the next and then reading the last--and at the rate my reading's going lately, it'll keep me occuppied til after New Year.
Top Five Books by Stephen King:
1. The Dark Tower Part II: The Drawing of the Three. The best of the best.
2. The Stand: Complete and unabridged. I know there are purists out there who prefer the original, shorter version. Heathens.
3. 'Salem's Lot
4. Skeleton Crew (my favorite of his short story collections. Just got a new hardcover copy of it in the mail. Groovy)
5. The Shining
Top Five Books by Stephen King:
1. The Dark Tower Part II: The Drawing of the Three. The best of the best.
2. The Stand: Complete and unabridged. I know there are purists out there who prefer the original, shorter version. Heathens.
3. 'Salem's Lot
4. Skeleton Crew (my favorite of his short story collections. Just got a new hardcover copy of it in the mail. Groovy)
5. The Shining
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Shauned Again
Last night I went out with the Chrises and Jira to see Shaun of the Dead again. This was the last weekend it was playing in theaters here and we still hadn't actually seen it in a theater, though I've watched it nearly weekly now since I got my copy in September. It was playing at the Pageant Theater, which is Chico's local indy arthouse movie theater--the front row seats are couches (unfortunately, we didn't snag those) and every movie has intermission while the projectionist changes all of the reels. It's a great little atmosphere, and remains a great little movie.
the Big Red Stain
I just want to start this out by saying that the veterninary medicine profession really has a nice racket going. There should be medical insurance for pets.
#B.1 has this problem with never remembering to flush the toilet when he takes a leak. The cats prefer drinking their water from the toilet rather than from their water bowl. The other morning I noticed reddish fluid on the bathroom floor; it kept reappearing. When picking Bingo up, red pee squirted out of him...and so off to the vet we went (while I do not like our cats, my kids do...).
Three hundred dollars we can't afford later, Bingo is on antibiotics and is looking at another follow-up visit and tests that should run almost as much. He had a massive urinary tract infection caused primarily from ingestion of urine.
Not the sort of financial output I wanted to make a month before Christmas.
#B.1 has this problem with never remembering to flush the toilet when he takes a leak. The cats prefer drinking their water from the toilet rather than from their water bowl. The other morning I noticed reddish fluid on the bathroom floor; it kept reappearing. When picking Bingo up, red pee squirted out of him...and so off to the vet we went (while I do not like our cats, my kids do...).
Three hundred dollars we can't afford later, Bingo is on antibiotics and is looking at another follow-up visit and tests that should run almost as much. He had a massive urinary tract infection caused primarily from ingestion of urine.
Not the sort of financial output I wanted to make a month before Christmas.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Computer Problems
Aside from the modem damage from the thunderstorm, I've discovered a substantial amount of other problems with my connectivity.In fact, this post may not even make it through...
Something is wrong so that most of the time I now log on, my internet browser crashes. Then, someties when it does work, it will suddenly stop if I click a link and will then crash. In every instance, the browser is trying to redirect me to "badurl.grandstreet.com" and then crashes itself.
I fear I may have to crash my computer and dump the majority of my hard drive and start over from scratch. If that's the case, it'll be some time between my being online. As I'm vastly more a computer idiot than not. Should I disappear from all my blogs and e-mail for a few days (other than my typical weekends away from being online), that's what's happened. Hopefully I can manage to find the source of this problem instead--hopefully.
Something is wrong so that most of the time I now log on, my internet browser crashes. Then, someties when it does work, it will suddenly stop if I click a link and will then crash. In every instance, the browser is trying to redirect me to "badurl.grandstreet.com" and then crashes itself.
I fear I may have to crash my computer and dump the majority of my hard drive and start over from scratch. If that's the case, it'll be some time between my being online. As I'm vastly more a computer idiot than not. Should I disappear from all my blogs and e-mail for a few days (other than my typical weekends away from being online), that's what's happened. Hopefully I can manage to find the source of this problem instead--hopefully.
Friday, November 05, 2004
The Princess and the Hellboy
Now that I've finally found a decent image hosting site, here are three pics of Lash and Aeia taken from this past Halloween (the same day as my post "Sampain" below).
The kids got me lots of great candy.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Not Dead Yet
I've decided not to give up on you America. Believe me, I've come very close. I even toyed with writing letters to Oprah Winfrey asking her to forget the car and just fund my emigration to Canada.
Instead, I choose to not give in. This election sucked. This government sucks. It seems to me that the majority of the nation is either blind or stupid, or both. Or just mean and cruel; I really shouldn't discount that option.
I'm a teacher (when budget cuts don't have me laid off that is), and so I've decided to try to educate instead. I've created another new blog: Good Mourning America. The title, while a play on more famous words, is a representation of my feelings--that the good (of which I with great hubris number myself amongst) are now mourning America.
If, in the next four years, the work I do there can sway even one person away from the Dark Side, then I'll feel there's still some hope for us yet. We'll just have to see.
But I'm not doing it alone. This one's a team effort. I already have two close friends joining the effort, and another on the way (I hope). And I'd be happy to welcome more like minds to aid in the cause.
My new slogan:
Bush wins reelection: It's not the end of the world--but it could be.
Instead, I choose to not give in. This election sucked. This government sucks. It seems to me that the majority of the nation is either blind or stupid, or both. Or just mean and cruel; I really shouldn't discount that option.
I'm a teacher (when budget cuts don't have me laid off that is), and so I've decided to try to educate instead. I've created another new blog: Good Mourning America. The title, while a play on more famous words, is a representation of my feelings--that the good (of which I with great hubris number myself amongst) are now mourning America.
If, in the next four years, the work I do there can sway even one person away from the Dark Side, then I'll feel there's still some hope for us yet. We'll just have to see.
But I'm not doing it alone. This one's a team effort. I already have two close friends joining the effort, and another on the way (I hope). And I'd be happy to welcome more like minds to aid in the cause.
My new slogan:
Bush wins reelection: It's not the end of the world--but it could be.
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Blocked? Lazy? Dried up Well?
As I read through my backlog of old poems, it hits me that I haven't written anything new (with the exception being the translations of Angelina Vidal I've been doing for my Master's Thesis) since December of 2002. For nearly two years now I haven't written a new poem. January 2003 is when we began the process of foster parenting. Since then, I haven't penned new poetry, my steady online communications with friends has come to a drizzle, I've felt less and less inspired...
Is there a causal relationship between the two, or is it just a coincidence? I know I'm a much more busy and tired person, but even when taking seventeen units and working a graveyard shift I found time to write... Am I just blocked or too lazy (oddly, these would be the best answers...)?
If there's one thing I hope, it's that my well hasn't run dry.
I need to start writing again.
Is there a causal relationship between the two, or is it just a coincidence? I know I'm a much more busy and tired person, but even when taking seventeen units and working a graveyard shift I found time to write... Am I just blocked or too lazy (oddly, these would be the best answers...)?
If there's one thing I hope, it's that my well hasn't run dry.
I need to start writing again.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Sampain
Today (as I write this, it remains Saturday, October 30th), we had Halloween part one. See, due to the fact that Halloween falls on the Sabbath this year, the City of Chico decided to celebrate its city-sponsored event on Saturday. Every year, the Downtown Chico Business Association gets the downtown stores to participate in "Treat Street." For three hours, typically 2-5pm, families take their kids to all the stores, the stores give kids candy and, presumably, this increases sales for the stores later. I've been taking the kids to this every Halloween since 2001.
Due to the fact I've broken or sprained my right ankle due to volleyball more times than I've counted, I now have arthritis in that foot. It only acts up when the weather goes through abrupt changes. In California, that's generally only two times a year--late November and sometime in March. Remember when I mentioned our weather has been about twenty degrees colder than it's supposed to be? I spent hours this morning soaking the ankle, downing meds and walking on it, well hobbling on it in order to numb the pain so that I could take the kids out trick-or-treating at Treat Street. Aeia was a princess and Lash was Hellboy. Both great costumes and I have pictures but since I can't find a decent server to hold photoc online, I shant be posting any here (I suppose people could e-mail for 'em). Halloween being my favorite holiday, there was absolutely no way I would let a little thing like debilitating ankle injuries that refuse to be walked upon stop me from letting my kids beg for free candy under threat of "tricks."
After the first half-hour, I was able to move at the kids' pace, as the pain had reached that place where it hurts so badly you can no longer feel it. I'm looking forward to enduring the real deal tomorrow.
Due to the fact I've broken or sprained my right ankle due to volleyball more times than I've counted, I now have arthritis in that foot. It only acts up when the weather goes through abrupt changes. In California, that's generally only two times a year--late November and sometime in March. Remember when I mentioned our weather has been about twenty degrees colder than it's supposed to be? I spent hours this morning soaking the ankle, downing meds and walking on it, well hobbling on it in order to numb the pain so that I could take the kids out trick-or-treating at Treat Street. Aeia was a princess and Lash was Hellboy. Both great costumes and I have pictures but since I can't find a decent server to hold photoc online, I shant be posting any here (I suppose people could e-mail for 'em). Halloween being my favorite holiday, there was absolutely no way I would let a little thing like debilitating ankle injuries that refuse to be walked upon stop me from letting my kids beg for free candy under threat of "tricks."
After the first half-hour, I was able to move at the kids' pace, as the pain had reached that place where it hurts so badly you can no longer feel it. I'm looking forward to enduring the real deal tomorrow.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Weekend at Home at the Movies
Saw two rented movies this week: Ghostwatcher and Saved!
Ghostwatcher has the distinction of being really really crappy. For camcorder-fare it was decent, but too much logic was often left at the door. Worse, a plot point ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL to the film was relegated to the deleted scenes section of the dvd rather than placed in the movie itself. On the plus side--there was one fart-funny gag reel, for those with more purile humour. Sadly, the basic idea of this film was astounding. Done well, I would have loved to see a horror movie about an agorophobe who discovers her home is haunted by a malicious and evil ghost.
Saved! I'd been wanting to see badly and just never had been able to. For the last 13 years or so I'd had this mindset that movies where Macauley Culkin dies are good movies, and movies where he doesn't are not good movies. After last night, I have to re-assess. Not only did he survive, but he was an enjoyable member of the cast to watch. Not being a Christian, I thoroughly enjoyed how well the movie performed at being somewhat tongue-in-cheek about various extreme religious personalities in today's youth while simultaneously making a really positive message about the nature and importance of faith. A message I thought it nailed wonderfully without being heavy-handed or religion-specific. And did I mention that the humour was dead-on groovy? Eva Amurri speaking in tongues is was worth the price of rental alone.
Ghostwatcher has the distinction of being really really crappy. For camcorder-fare it was decent, but too much logic was often left at the door. Worse, a plot point ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL to the film was relegated to the deleted scenes section of the dvd rather than placed in the movie itself. On the plus side--there was one fart-funny gag reel, for those with more purile humour. Sadly, the basic idea of this film was astounding. Done well, I would have loved to see a horror movie about an agorophobe who discovers her home is haunted by a malicious and evil ghost.
Saved! I'd been wanting to see badly and just never had been able to. For the last 13 years or so I'd had this mindset that movies where Macauley Culkin dies are good movies, and movies where he doesn't are not good movies. After last night, I have to re-assess. Not only did he survive, but he was an enjoyable member of the cast to watch. Not being a Christian, I thoroughly enjoyed how well the movie performed at being somewhat tongue-in-cheek about various extreme religious personalities in today's youth while simultaneously making a really positive message about the nature and importance of faith. A message I thought it nailed wonderfully without being heavy-handed or religion-specific. And did I mention that the humour was dead-on groovy? Eva Amurri speaking in tongues is was worth the price of rental alone.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Top 5 of the Day
In the vein of my cultural snobbery, today I present my Top 5 movies that are considered classics and yet I personally find them incredibly bad:
1. On the Waterfront
2. Citizen Kane
3. Apocalypse Now (A movie that starts well for me, but always leaves me sleeping before the end...)
4. Rebel Without a Cause
5. Taxi Driver
I JUST saw Taxi Driver for the first time this week, and I want my two hours back.
Also, having Taxi Driver on the mind, I effed up and added another Deniro pick here that I hadn't seen (and mentioned as such in my buddy Drew's blog) so I had to fix that.
And Drew, I HATE 2001 too. Almost enough to swap it with A-Now.
1. On the Waterfront
2. Citizen Kane
3. Apocalypse Now (A movie that starts well for me, but always leaves me sleeping before the end...)
4. Rebel Without a Cause
5. Taxi Driver
I JUST saw Taxi Driver for the first time this week, and I want my two hours back.
Also, having Taxi Driver on the mind, I effed up and added another Deniro pick here that I hadn't seen (and mentioned as such in my buddy Drew's blog) so I had to fix that.
And Drew, I HATE 2001 too. Almost enough to swap it with A-Now.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Cultural Snobbery
I am such a snob. Whenever Denise and I are watching something and she doesn't recognize somebody on the telly from their other role or roles on other shows or films, I just can't seem to let her off the ridicule hook. People as mentally bereft about pop culture as she often is really get the snobby disdain from me. I can't seem to control it. The same thing goes to people who like music or film or tv that I obviously feel to be inferior. Like those legions of over-eighteen fans of boybands. They are all on crack.
It's probably why High Fidelity made my top five list a couple weeks back--I see so much of myself reflected in those three record store clerks. No one who has taste and isn't in a coma wants to listen to "I Just Called to Say I Love You." Sometimes peoples' tastes in pop culture hurt me physically. I get ill.
To this day, I continue to shake my head in dull shock that Denise still has not seen the Godfather or any of its sequels, but she likes the new editions of Star Wars just fine.
It's probably why High Fidelity made my top five list a couple weeks back--I see so much of myself reflected in those three record store clerks. No one who has taste and isn't in a coma wants to listen to "I Just Called to Say I Love You." Sometimes peoples' tastes in pop culture hurt me physically. I get ill.
To this day, I continue to shake my head in dull shock that Denise still has not seen the Godfather or any of its sequels, but she likes the new editions of Star Wars just fine.
More in Iraq
The co-owner of my comic shop is in the Army Reserves. He's been reactivated and is leaving for Iraq two days after Christmas. Happy holidays. :(
Monday, October 18, 2004
Top 5 Soundtrack Songs
I've been really glomming on to random songs from movies and tv I watch lately, and in that vein I've compiled a top five list of favorite songs prominently featured in a motion picture soundtrack.
1. One April Day by Stephin Merritt/Magnetic Fields (film: Pieces of April)
2. Ray of Sunshine by Go Sailor (film: But I'm a Cheerleader)
3. Falling From Grace by the Gentle Waves(film Pumpkin)
4. I'll Never Tell by Emma Caulfield and Nicholas Brendan (tv show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, episode: Once More With Feeling)
5. Outdoor Type by the Lemonheads (film: Tao of Steve)
1. One April Day by Stephin Merritt/Magnetic Fields (film: Pieces of April)
2. Ray of Sunshine by Go Sailor (film: But I'm a Cheerleader)
3. Falling From Grace by the Gentle Waves(film Pumpkin)
4. I'll Never Tell by Emma Caulfield and Nicholas Brendan (tv show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, episode: Once More With Feeling)
5. Outdoor Type by the Lemonheads (film: Tao of Steve)
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Chicken Cordon Bleu Burgers
This is a great way to fudge the taste of cordon bleu (my favorite dish, AND cook it quickly.
You need:
pkg ground chicken
pkg Canadian bacon (or other fully cooked pre-sliced ham would suffice)
grill seasonings
shallot
sliced swiss cheese
garnish & buns
preheat grill, add a little oil (extra virgin olive for me) because chicken is stickier than beef.
Throw a couple teaspoons of grill seasoning (and maybe a little sweet paprika and cumin) into the ground chicken. Dice up the shallot and add it to the chicken. Mix it all and then form into burgers.
Grill the burgers.
Put ham on the grill and heat to warm.
When burgers done, put ham on burgers, put swiss on ham. Turn off heat to grill. Tent aluminum foil over burgers and allow then to keep cooking themselves through while they melt the cheese.
Move to bun and garnish to taste (a dijon mustard/mayo/chopped tarragon sauce is nice. Use about 1-to-2 ratio of mustard to mayo).
Tastes great with lettuce buns for low carbers too.
You need:
pkg ground chicken
pkg Canadian bacon (or other fully cooked pre-sliced ham would suffice)
grill seasonings
shallot
sliced swiss cheese
garnish & buns
preheat grill, add a little oil (extra virgin olive for me) because chicken is stickier than beef.
Throw a couple teaspoons of grill seasoning (and maybe a little sweet paprika and cumin) into the ground chicken. Dice up the shallot and add it to the chicken. Mix it all and then form into burgers.
Grill the burgers.
Put ham on the grill and heat to warm.
When burgers done, put ham on burgers, put swiss on ham. Turn off heat to grill. Tent aluminum foil over burgers and allow then to keep cooking themselves through while they melt the cheese.
Move to bun and garnish to taste (a dijon mustard/mayo/chopped tarragon sauce is nice. Use about 1-to-2 ratio of mustard to mayo).
Tastes great with lettuce buns for low carbers too.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Top 5 John Cusack Movies
SO I watched Hi Fidelity for the upteenth time yesterday, and in the vein of that film, my first Top 5 blog list--my top 5 movies starring John Cusack (in no order of importance):
1. Hi Fidelity
2. One Crazy Summer
3. Say Anything
4. Identity
5. Grosse Pointe Blank
Maybe I'll keep the top five list idea goin every now and again. Suggestions for the next? What are your top five Cusack movies? He's only been in 47 films, surely you've seen some of them.
1. Hi Fidelity
2. One Crazy Summer
3. Say Anything
4. Identity
5. Grosse Pointe Blank
Maybe I'll keep the top five list idea goin every now and again. Suggestions for the next? What are your top five Cusack movies? He's only been in 47 films, surely you've seen some of them.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Evan's Theory of Complacency
Yesterday I was watching a Smallville re-run when, half way through the program, I tried to figure out why I was watching the show. I don't like it. At least I despised it enough when it first came out that I chose to stop watching it about a quarter of the way through the first season. That got me to thinking about how Denise's Law & Order has come to be less annoying to me (another show I downright dislike), or how both of us are able to sit through an episode of CSI: Miami even after the death of Rory Cochrane's character. It all comes down to what I'm dubbing my Unified Theory on Television Complacency.
Unlike watching a car wreck, bad television has this capability to seep into you in such a way that before you realize it, you're a consistent viewer of the show (I have absolutely no other explanation for Out of Order). See, it doesn't matter how bad a show is, or how much you dislike it. If, for whatever reason--reruns everywhere else, sheer boredom, remote control laziness, amnesia--you make yourself sit through a bad show again and again...soon it stops seeming as much like a bad show to you. Eventually it becomes routine. Smallville is on my satellite's daily recording schedule now. Admittedly, #3.2 loves it, and the other kids like it, but I don't have to watch too... As viewers, we numb ourselves to bad television programming.
I need to be very careful to avoid further exposure to Pride of the Family and dr. vegas.
On a brighter side, I gave Desperate Housewives a try. It was...entertaining. I think it might be able to become the next Twin Peaks, and I think that the fatc I didn't come to that conclusion until close to the end of the program bodes well for its ability to, hopefully, stay fresh. Because any show that can make it believable that Terri Hatcher would struggle for a date has got to be worth watching.
Unlike watching a car wreck, bad television has this capability to seep into you in such a way that before you realize it, you're a consistent viewer of the show (I have absolutely no other explanation for Out of Order). See, it doesn't matter how bad a show is, or how much you dislike it. If, for whatever reason--reruns everywhere else, sheer boredom, remote control laziness, amnesia--you make yourself sit through a bad show again and again...soon it stops seeming as much like a bad show to you. Eventually it becomes routine. Smallville is on my satellite's daily recording schedule now. Admittedly, #3.2 loves it, and the other kids like it, but I don't have to watch too... As viewers, we numb ourselves to bad television programming.
I need to be very careful to avoid further exposure to Pride of the Family and dr. vegas.
On a brighter side, I gave Desperate Housewives a try. It was...entertaining. I think it might be able to become the next Twin Peaks, and I think that the fatc I didn't come to that conclusion until close to the end of the program bodes well for its ability to, hopefully, stay fresh. Because any show that can make it believable that Terri Hatcher would struggle for a date has got to be worth watching.
Friday, October 01, 2004
A Walk Down Gay Cinema Lane pt. 1
I finally got around to renting Latter Days last night. My general response to gay cinema is that much more often than not, it sucks. "Landmark" films such as Go Fish, Bar Girls, Longtime Companion... they all just bore the piss out of me with either bad acting, too slow story telling, or horrendo as it is: both.
Anyway. Being a lapsed Mormon (and no return in sight, honey), and being an Amber Benson fan, I've wanted to see this film ever since I first read about it some many months ago.
It's a love story centered around, rather cliched, gay party boy Christian who falls in love with one of the Mormon missionaries (Aaron) who move into his apartment complex. Well, initially, he pursues Aaron in order to win a bet, but the Mormon with a heart of gold, assisted by AIDS crushed Eric Palladino (who held perhaps the most interesting and enjoyable part in the film, well, along with Bissette), turns Christian into a caring, loving man in need of a relationship.
OK, I've read that and have to admit it sounds about as cliche and cheese-filled as does any other typical gay film. But this one had its nuances. Careful attention was placed on making the Mormon stuff as accurate as possible (the only slip up I saw was having Aaron wear a blue shirt in one of his missionary scenes)--they even had Aaron in the correct underwear (yes, I notice these things, as would any other good Mormon boy--or lapsed bisexual Mormon boy like me). I was bothered at the harshness portrayed by Aaron's family. While accurate to the experience of many in the LDS church, I've found just as many who were more lovingly excommunicated. I thirsted for a bit more compassion (and as it turned out, the dvd has a deleted scene with Aaron's sister than should have stayed in the film and handled the absence of familial sympathy so absent from the theatrical cut) from Aaron's family members. I was, however, just as happy that they didn't sugar coat things (except maybe the attempted suicide. The cut scene mentioned above was cut because it was the extended suicide scene and was deemed too graphic--I don't really agree with that take, and don't think many other viewers would) and really shone a light on the difficulty of being Mormon and gay, and the struggle Aaron faced coming to terms with his homosexuality, his abandonment by church and family, his feelings for Christian.
The movie,a s a drama, did for me what so many gay dramas don't: it made me care about the characters progression through the film instead of making me want to go out for coffee so that I can be chemically induced to sit through the entirety of the film.
Final thoughts: strong performances by all actors. It could have worked a little harder to abandon so many of the cliches of the single gay male. It could have had more Amber Benson. Subject matter was great and the characters felt real.
It's joining a small contingent of gay films that I'll actually be willing to sit through more than once without coercion (as yet, that list consists of Bent, Jeffrey, the Laramie Project, Psycho Beach Party and Big Eden
Anyway. Being a lapsed Mormon (and no return in sight, honey), and being an Amber Benson fan, I've wanted to see this film ever since I first read about it some many months ago.
It's a love story centered around, rather cliched, gay party boy Christian who falls in love with one of the Mormon missionaries (Aaron) who move into his apartment complex. Well, initially, he pursues Aaron in order to win a bet, but the Mormon with a heart of gold, assisted by AIDS crushed Eric Palladino (who held perhaps the most interesting and enjoyable part in the film, well, along with Bissette), turns Christian into a caring, loving man in need of a relationship.
OK, I've read that and have to admit it sounds about as cliche and cheese-filled as does any other typical gay film. But this one had its nuances. Careful attention was placed on making the Mormon stuff as accurate as possible (the only slip up I saw was having Aaron wear a blue shirt in one of his missionary scenes)--they even had Aaron in the correct underwear (yes, I notice these things, as would any other good Mormon boy--or lapsed bisexual Mormon boy like me). I was bothered at the harshness portrayed by Aaron's family. While accurate to the experience of many in the LDS church, I've found just as many who were more lovingly excommunicated. I thirsted for a bit more compassion (and as it turned out, the dvd has a deleted scene with Aaron's sister than should have stayed in the film and handled the absence of familial sympathy so absent from the theatrical cut) from Aaron's family members. I was, however, just as happy that they didn't sugar coat things (except maybe the attempted suicide. The cut scene mentioned above was cut because it was the extended suicide scene and was deemed too graphic--I don't really agree with that take, and don't think many other viewers would) and really shone a light on the difficulty of being Mormon and gay, and the struggle Aaron faced coming to terms with his homosexuality, his abandonment by church and family, his feelings for Christian.
The movie,a s a drama, did for me what so many gay dramas don't: it made me care about the characters progression through the film instead of making me want to go out for coffee so that I can be chemically induced to sit through the entirety of the film.
Final thoughts: strong performances by all actors. It could have worked a little harder to abandon so many of the cliches of the single gay male. It could have had more Amber Benson. Subject matter was great and the characters felt real.
It's joining a small contingent of gay films that I'll actually be willing to sit through more than once without coercion (as yet, that list consists of Bent, Jeffrey, the Laramie Project, Psycho Beach Party and Big Eden
Slow News Day
So I pulled myself from my pit of apathy and sat through the Presidential Debates last night (of course, I recorded them so I could watch and pause at my leisure rather than sit through it start to finish). In a very odd paradox, they were both more boring than I expected them to be and less boring than I expected them to be. Perhaps I could clarify...
I expected a long-winded, circlical speaking and overly intellectual contribution from Kerry. Surprising me, he proved only to be long-winded (though by my count, Bush was the only one to ever exceed his allotted time limit). I was happy with how Kerry handled accusations of indecisiveness, and felt he did an excellent job of explaining and defending his position on the war in Iraq and the war on terrorism.
Bush was surprisingly better than I expected, though it's not hard to be good at speaking only one point--over and over and over and over again. After 90 minutes I get that Bush's camp wants me to think John Kerry is only a flip-flopper and will destroy America because of it. That really was the only straw he tried to grasp and hold on to for the entire debate--which is why it was more boring than I expected. More time was spent on accusing Kerry of being too indecisive, and on Kerry having to defend against this point, for the debate to be all that interesting (granted, there was a nice deal more done, but please, who can remember they talked about North Korea or nuclear proliferation when you think back on the giant monkey head going back to the flip-flop card, despite its inability to work in the debate?).
There are people I know who, when you have a debate/argument/discussion with them, no matter how carefully you word yourself, they just can't seem to respond to what is actually said (or more often typed). It's a major failing in our ability to hold discourse, and it's a major failing I saw in Bush's ability to debate last night.
All that said, though, I hold to my dreary prediction that it won't make a difference and Kerry won't be elected. This is a race that's clearly to be decided by the swing states and the voters who don't traditionally vote. The problem? Those voters weren't watching the debates, and they won't be watching the remaining debates. The majority of the LGBT population don't actually turn out for elections, and despite how heated a time this is for LGBT issues, I continue to see more and more apathy from members of the community than I would expect from reading the vocal minority in the news and in the HRC.
The stoned slackers in the Daily Show viewership sure weren't watching. They were toking up. Ignoring the innaccuracy of the Daily Show viewership being stoned slackers, the real stones slackers, wherever they are, weren't watching the debates, and are just as likely to not vote as they are every other election.
On a final note, I'm going to stop harping on the communities that don't traditionally vote, and aren't expected to vote this time, and harp on one last thing: Theresa Heinz-Kerry. Could she have looked any frumpier and frazzled? Can't someone in the Kerry camp buy this lady a smart, well-fitting suit?
I expected a long-winded, circlical speaking and overly intellectual contribution from Kerry. Surprising me, he proved only to be long-winded (though by my count, Bush was the only one to ever exceed his allotted time limit). I was happy with how Kerry handled accusations of indecisiveness, and felt he did an excellent job of explaining and defending his position on the war in Iraq and the war on terrorism.
Bush was surprisingly better than I expected, though it's not hard to be good at speaking only one point--over and over and over and over again. After 90 minutes I get that Bush's camp wants me to think John Kerry is only a flip-flopper and will destroy America because of it. That really was the only straw he tried to grasp and hold on to for the entire debate--which is why it was more boring than I expected. More time was spent on accusing Kerry of being too indecisive, and on Kerry having to defend against this point, for the debate to be all that interesting (granted, there was a nice deal more done, but please, who can remember they talked about North Korea or nuclear proliferation when you think back on the giant monkey head going back to the flip-flop card, despite its inability to work in the debate?).
There are people I know who, when you have a debate/argument/discussion with them, no matter how carefully you word yourself, they just can't seem to respond to what is actually said (or more often typed). It's a major failing in our ability to hold discourse, and it's a major failing I saw in Bush's ability to debate last night.
All that said, though, I hold to my dreary prediction that it won't make a difference and Kerry won't be elected. This is a race that's clearly to be decided by the swing states and the voters who don't traditionally vote. The problem? Those voters weren't watching the debates, and they won't be watching the remaining debates. The majority of the LGBT population don't actually turn out for elections, and despite how heated a time this is for LGBT issues, I continue to see more and more apathy from members of the community than I would expect from reading the vocal minority in the news and in the HRC.
The stoned slackers in the Daily Show viewership sure weren't watching. They were toking up. Ignoring the innaccuracy of the Daily Show viewership being stoned slackers, the real stones slackers, wherever they are, weren't watching the debates, and are just as likely to not vote as they are every other election.
On a final note, I'm going to stop harping on the communities that don't traditionally vote, and aren't expected to vote this time, and harp on one last thing: Theresa Heinz-Kerry. Could she have looked any frumpier and frazzled? Can't someone in the Kerry camp buy this lady a smart, well-fitting suit?
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Religiosity
I was (re)watching the "Inauguration, part 2" episode of "West Wing" today when I was reminded, by the show, of something that came to mind for me during my San Diego vacation back in July. A portion of the episode involved hotel Bibles, as does this particular post.
When we stayed at the Marriott, not only did it have a King James Bible, but it also had a Book of Mormon. I suppose I should google, I mean research, this...is the Marriott an LDS (Latter Day Saint, aka Mormon) run company? Perhaps just the Residence Inn offshoot? Perhaps just whomever was in charge of supplying the hotel Bibles? Maybe other hotel rooms had different religious texts (THAT would be keen in my book). My older friends may joke and say my ex knew i was going to be there and planted the book...
Anyhow, I've come to expect the inevitability of the hotel Bible, regardless of my lack of Christianity, it doesn't bother me. I've gotten used to it like I've gotten used to the Pledge of Allegiance (though I had a quiver when Lash first reported learning it). However, I was somewhat bothered by the placement of a Book of Mormon in my room. Regardless of my lapsed Mormonism, I thought it pushed the inevitable too much further.
Just once, I'd like to find a hotel room that is missing its Bible, and in its place has the Koran, the Torah or even the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Now that would be something.
When we stayed at the Marriott, not only did it have a King James Bible, but it also had a Book of Mormon. I suppose I should google, I mean research, this...is the Marriott an LDS (Latter Day Saint, aka Mormon) run company? Perhaps just the Residence Inn offshoot? Perhaps just whomever was in charge of supplying the hotel Bibles? Maybe other hotel rooms had different religious texts (THAT would be keen in my book). My older friends may joke and say my ex knew i was going to be there and planted the book...
Anyhow, I've come to expect the inevitability of the hotel Bible, regardless of my lack of Christianity, it doesn't bother me. I've gotten used to it like I've gotten used to the Pledge of Allegiance (though I had a quiver when Lash first reported learning it). However, I was somewhat bothered by the placement of a Book of Mormon in my room. Regardless of my lapsed Mormonism, I thought it pushed the inevitable too much further.
Just once, I'd like to find a hotel room that is missing its Bible, and in its place has the Koran, the Torah or even the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Now that would be something.
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Date Night
It's been a good long time since Lash and I were able to spend any time together one-on-one, so I decided to make Friday a father-son night and let Lash pick the doings. He picked going to a movie--cool. He picked Anacondas... well, he's my son and I love him and so we watched Anacondas.
One of the trailers was for Shaun of the Dead. Enjoyed the trailer though I thought it gave away a bit too much. Also had a trailer for Resident Evil: Apocalypse. The trailer we've been seeing on tv has had me deciding not to see the film in theaters; the trailer at the theater has me rethinking. The Lickers look awesome.
OK, Anacondas. The pluses: when the snakes are seen swimming in the water--really nice. When the snakes are moving so fast that you can't linger focus on them--really nice (the cgi is great, but the speed and frenetic chaos of snake strikes is caught better in the parts where you don't have lingering glimpses of the snakes. Plus, less snake equals more suspense and for a bad movie, it had decent suspense and more than a few instances of good "jump out of your seat" moments (I actually twitched once, and that NEVER happens) Lash watched the whole movie peeking through his fingers. The biggest plus: he loved it.
Minuses:
1. Every now and then, as background mood music, the composer put in a quick rattle. Anacondas are not rattle snakes.
2. Anacondas hunt in the water, not the trees.
3. Anacondas rarely attack humans, so multiple Anacondas going to town on humans is a bit odd, but able to be thrown away easy enough for the sake of the film.
4. Anacondas usually mate in the water, not on mud flats. While the mud was crucial to the film plot, since the anaconda will typically mate in water, our resident anaconda expert in the film should have said that instead of saying that they'd find the anacondas mating on a mud flat...
5. Perhaps most important: the plot takes place in Borneo, Malaysia. Anacondas live in South America. Malaysia is not in South America. Malaysia has no anacondas.
6. Lake Placid syndrome: too many people survived. And the end was far too predictable.
One of the trailers was for Shaun of the Dead. Enjoyed the trailer though I thought it gave away a bit too much. Also had a trailer for Resident Evil: Apocalypse. The trailer we've been seeing on tv has had me deciding not to see the film in theaters; the trailer at the theater has me rethinking. The Lickers look awesome.
OK, Anacondas. The pluses: when the snakes are seen swimming in the water--really nice. When the snakes are moving so fast that you can't linger focus on them--really nice (the cgi is great, but the speed and frenetic chaos of snake strikes is caught better in the parts where you don't have lingering glimpses of the snakes. Plus, less snake equals more suspense and for a bad movie, it had decent suspense and more than a few instances of good "jump out of your seat" moments (I actually twitched once, and that NEVER happens) Lash watched the whole movie peeking through his fingers. The biggest plus: he loved it.
Minuses:
1. Every now and then, as background mood music, the composer put in a quick rattle. Anacondas are not rattle snakes.
2. Anacondas hunt in the water, not the trees.
3. Anacondas rarely attack humans, so multiple Anacondas going to town on humans is a bit odd, but able to be thrown away easy enough for the sake of the film.
4. Anacondas usually mate in the water, not on mud flats. While the mud was crucial to the film plot, since the anaconda will typically mate in water, our resident anaconda expert in the film should have said that instead of saying that they'd find the anacondas mating on a mud flat...
5. Perhaps most important: the plot takes place in Borneo, Malaysia. Anacondas live in South America. Malaysia is not in South America. Malaysia has no anacondas.
6. Lake Placid syndrome: too many people survived. And the end was far too predictable.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Shaun of the Dead
So, I've seen Shaun of the Dead (due out in theaters September 24th) and am very impressed.
Ever see one of those older, 80s zombie movie crapfests that are just too funny because they suck so much? Thankfully, not the case here. Shaun's funny in all the right ways--because it's a freaking comedy and the comedy of the movie works really well in this horror flick gone awry.
From the opening sequence in the Winchester (the pub he frequents), to the scene where he tries to convince his mom to let him rescue her and not step-dad, to the reality-sports footage at the end... the show never disappointed.
Zombies are definitely my favorite horror genre, and I'd been thinking I wouldn't see another good one until Romero's Land of the Dead comes out. Now, can't wait to see a less-grainy Shaun when it hits theaters in three weeks.
Definitely fabulous, and funny in a good way.
Ever see one of those older, 80s zombie movie crapfests that are just too funny because they suck so much? Thankfully, not the case here. Shaun's funny in all the right ways--because it's a freaking comedy and the comedy of the movie works really well in this horror flick gone awry.
From the opening sequence in the Winchester (the pub he frequents), to the scene where he tries to convince his mom to let him rescue her and not step-dad, to the reality-sports footage at the end... the show never disappointed.
Zombies are definitely my favorite horror genre, and I'd been thinking I wouldn't see another good one until Romero's Land of the Dead comes out. Now, can't wait to see a less-grainy Shaun when it hits theaters in three weeks.
Definitely fabulous, and funny in a good way.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Out of Work
Well, as it turns out, students who are enrolled in fewer than 3 units a term (as I am, while on adjunct enrollment status) are not allowed to work for the University. Apparently, the fact that I worked for the University while adjunctly enrolled last semester was some sort of miraculous fluke. So now I have no job in the English Department (those poor Freshmen will have to learn how to write a sentence in high school now or something) and my boss in the Agriculture Department is trying to convince the Dept. to hire me as an independant contractor so that he doesn't have to replace me. One good thing from this: as an English Masters Candidate, it warms my heart to be treated as someone who is indespensible by the Ag. Dept. such that they'll try to loophole the system in hopes of not losing me. It's too bad my own departmental peers lack that level of confidence and loyalty.
Meanwhile, I dodged the Boy Scouts bullet with Lash again this past week. Quite evilly of me, I denied his Scouting request as partial punishment for his fighting at school and explained to him that Scouting would be something he has to prove himself responsible enough to be a part of and he'll have to show good behaviour from now until next recruitment drive before I'll consider it again.
Meanwhile, I dodged the Boy Scouts bullet with Lash again this past week. Quite evilly of me, I denied his Scouting request as partial punishment for his fighting at school and explained to him that Scouting would be something he has to prove himself responsible enough to be a part of and he'll have to show good behaviour from now until next recruitment drive before I'll consider it again.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
May Day
My friend Drew's blog today reminded me that a couple weeks back I mentioned I would have some things to say about Bowling for Columbine and Elephant.
Of course, I don't really have as coherent a grip on what I wanted to say now as I did then. I remember one level of emotion--a small sense of peevedness over how America started to blow up over the evils of school shootings after Columbine, that it was a spark to light the flame of gun control debate for the coming decade or longer, as well it should be.
I graduated from high school in June of 1992, in a small California town named Marysville. Our sister and rival school was one called Lindhurst High. All but one of my closest friends in high school were Lindhurst High School graduates (including ex-rommates the Chrises).
On May 1st, 1992 Lindhurst High was taken hostage by a former student, who killed three students and one teacher and wounded many others. The female contingent of the Chrises was one of the hostages and to this day can't even sit through a film like Bowling for Columbine or Elephant. People I knew and loved were killed there, wounded physically or emotionally, or both.
I remember running the two miles from school to home when the news broke so I could try and reach my friends, to find them still alive and safe. We all cut school so frequently it was a good, though losing, bet that they wouldn't have even been there. That day was misery, and I wasn't even physically there. It profoundly changed me, changed my friends.
This was one of the many tragedies of my life, one of the sadder turning points for me ideologically. I'm glad the NRA never came here with Charleton Heston and held a rally after this happened, and I wouldn't have wanted the media in my face or my friends' faces, but sometimes it makes me feel like Americans didn't care about the tragedy of school shootings before Columbine, like the lives of my friends were somehow less, as were the lives of school shooting victims before Lindhurst and since pre-Columbine.
I don't understand how any rational mind could actually be against more strict gun control laws.
Of course, I don't really have as coherent a grip on what I wanted to say now as I did then. I remember one level of emotion--a small sense of peevedness over how America started to blow up over the evils of school shootings after Columbine, that it was a spark to light the flame of gun control debate for the coming decade or longer, as well it should be.
I graduated from high school in June of 1992, in a small California town named Marysville. Our sister and rival school was one called Lindhurst High. All but one of my closest friends in high school were Lindhurst High School graduates (including ex-rommates the Chrises).
On May 1st, 1992 Lindhurst High was taken hostage by a former student, who killed three students and one teacher and wounded many others. The female contingent of the Chrises was one of the hostages and to this day can't even sit through a film like Bowling for Columbine or Elephant. People I knew and loved were killed there, wounded physically or emotionally, or both.
I remember running the two miles from school to home when the news broke so I could try and reach my friends, to find them still alive and safe. We all cut school so frequently it was a good, though losing, bet that they wouldn't have even been there. That day was misery, and I wasn't even physically there. It profoundly changed me, changed my friends.
This was one of the many tragedies of my life, one of the sadder turning points for me ideologically. I'm glad the NRA never came here with Charleton Heston and held a rally after this happened, and I wouldn't have wanted the media in my face or my friends' faces, but sometimes it makes me feel like Americans didn't care about the tragedy of school shootings before Columbine, like the lives of my friends were somehow less, as were the lives of school shooting victims before Lindhurst and since pre-Columbine.
I don't understand how any rational mind could actually be against more strict gun control laws.
Monday, August 23, 2004
Detention
Today, Lash received detention for pushing another boy at his school (Rosedale Elementary). In no way do I condone Lash doing this, but this kid he pushed has been bullyinh him for more than a year, so I can understand where the frustration that caused it would come from. I am so effing tired of how frequently I see kids, victims of bullies, get in trouble when they finally lose their cool and retaliate, but I never see the bullies receiving the same treatment.
I've decided to write a letter to his school over this, though I expect there to be nothing good to come from it.
8-23-04
To Whom It May Concern:
In no way do I condone my son Lash pushing his classmate Marcos, nor do I condone any misconduct on his part and feel that the detention he is receiving is quite fair.
I do, however, wonder where the teachers, or playground attendants, were when Marcos provoked the pushing he received by shoving my son to the ground, and hope he is facing similar discipline. I wonder where the supervision is, where the safety of my child is, when, with increasing frequency, I pick Lash up from school sporting new bruises from the same two children who kick, punch and shove him on a nearly daily basis; or on the occasions I pick Lash up from school in clothes that have been torn by other children inappropriately laying their hands on him.
Late last Spring, I witnessed a girl choking my son on the playground before school. The playground attendant was less than ten feet away and wasn’t paying enough attention to notice or break it up. I made no fuss because she had told Lash it was a game and he believed her. Last week, one of his classmates punched him on the nose during recess. By his report, he told the playground attendant and nothing was done. I made no fuss because she told Lash it was an accident and he forgave her.
I applaud you in ensuring this other boy has a safe environment to learn in, and I’m disappointed in my son for resorting to a physical answer to the behaviour he receives from this other boy. I only wish someone would put the same amount of care into my own son’s safety for once, as I haven’t seen that occurring to date.
I've decided to write a letter to his school over this, though I expect there to be nothing good to come from it.
8-23-04
To Whom It May Concern:
In no way do I condone my son Lash pushing his classmate Marcos, nor do I condone any misconduct on his part and feel that the detention he is receiving is quite fair.
I do, however, wonder where the teachers, or playground attendants, were when Marcos provoked the pushing he received by shoving my son to the ground, and hope he is facing similar discipline. I wonder where the supervision is, where the safety of my child is, when, with increasing frequency, I pick Lash up from school sporting new bruises from the same two children who kick, punch and shove him on a nearly daily basis; or on the occasions I pick Lash up from school in clothes that have been torn by other children inappropriately laying their hands on him.
Late last Spring, I witnessed a girl choking my son on the playground before school. The playground attendant was less than ten feet away and wasn’t paying enough attention to notice or break it up. I made no fuss because she had told Lash it was a game and he believed her. Last week, one of his classmates punched him on the nose during recess. By his report, he told the playground attendant and nothing was done. I made no fuss because she told Lash it was an accident and he forgave her.
I applaud you in ensuring this other boy has a safe environment to learn in, and I’m disappointed in my son for resorting to a physical answer to the behaviour he receives from this other boy. I only wish someone would put the same amount of care into my own son’s safety for once, as I haven’t seen that occurring to date.
Friday, August 20, 2004
Jobs
My ex-roomate has this tumor in her foot that's been horrible to her for some months now. As she is a veteran of the good old US Army, she has health insurance through them (she has other insurance but it isn't as comprehensive AND if she uses it at all, the VA will cut all her benefits... gotta love their loyalty to their soldiers). It's taken them approx. 4-5 months to finally get her set up with a Dr.'s appointment about this TUMOR. And being as efficient as they are, rather than have her see an oncologist in town (or in 90-minute away Sacramento or Redding), they give her an appointment in Martinez (4 hours by car). Given the pain driving causes her, this distance is impossible for her, so her husband has to take off work to drive her. This leaves her needing someone to watch her two young children, pick them up from school, etc. Enter me.
I've nothing better going on Thursday (yesterday), so when she asks the favor on Tuesday, I happily agree to help out, especially given how ridiculous the US government is being about treating one of its veterans.
Fast forward to Wednesday. I've been waiting all summer for news of whether I'd have a teaching job again this year. I was approached about it in May, and have heard nothing since--to the point I've resigned myself to just continuing the TA job in the agriculture department (where the pay is actually better and the job is more stable). So Wednesday, just before the closing of business hours, I get ab E-MAIL from the head of my section of the English Dept. to officially offer me the job, and let me know I would need to be at a special meeting the following morning (Thursday) from nine to noon.
How preposterous is that? I've worked for the guy for two years before losing my job to budget cuts last year. He knows I can't just drop everything with zero notice, and has my home number. Why I had to get an e-mail when it was too late to even reply that day is beyond me.
So, as should be obvious, I had to reply that I wouldn't be at the meeting, as I would be busy caring for the young children of my ex-roomate on her ridiculously distant trip to the doctor. And so, I didn't go to the meeting. And so, I don't expect I'll actually have the job.
But wait, there's more. So now it's Thursday. The doctors know she's coming from Chico and they know how far Chico is. So they wait until a half hour before her appointment to call her cellphone and tell her they need to cancel her appointment because they only scheduled her for fifteen minutes and would actually need a half hour. Excuse me, but how fucked is that? They didn't check their logs early enough to save her from wsting eight hours on the road? They couldn't have squeezed her in (what's fifteen minutes more at a doctor visit)? So now she has to go through the whole ordeal all over again.
In other news, I hate spaghetti. Today on 30 Minute Meals Rachael Ray had a spaghetti with meatballs recipe that actually made me eager to try it out. That'll be sometime next week. Tonight is MY family-famous enchiladas.
I've nothing better going on Thursday (yesterday), so when she asks the favor on Tuesday, I happily agree to help out, especially given how ridiculous the US government is being about treating one of its veterans.
Fast forward to Wednesday. I've been waiting all summer for news of whether I'd have a teaching job again this year. I was approached about it in May, and have heard nothing since--to the point I've resigned myself to just continuing the TA job in the agriculture department (where the pay is actually better and the job is more stable). So Wednesday, just before the closing of business hours, I get ab E-MAIL from the head of my section of the English Dept. to officially offer me the job, and let me know I would need to be at a special meeting the following morning (Thursday) from nine to noon.
How preposterous is that? I've worked for the guy for two years before losing my job to budget cuts last year. He knows I can't just drop everything with zero notice, and has my home number. Why I had to get an e-mail when it was too late to even reply that day is beyond me.
So, as should be obvious, I had to reply that I wouldn't be at the meeting, as I would be busy caring for the young children of my ex-roomate on her ridiculously distant trip to the doctor. And so, I didn't go to the meeting. And so, I don't expect I'll actually have the job.
But wait, there's more. So now it's Thursday. The doctors know she's coming from Chico and they know how far Chico is. So they wait until a half hour before her appointment to call her cellphone and tell her they need to cancel her appointment because they only scheduled her for fifteen minutes and would actually need a half hour. Excuse me, but how fucked is that? They didn't check their logs early enough to save her from wsting eight hours on the road? They couldn't have squeezed her in (what's fifteen minutes more at a doctor visit)? So now she has to go through the whole ordeal all over again.
In other news, I hate spaghetti. Today on 30 Minute Meals Rachael Ray had a spaghetti with meatballs recipe that actually made me eager to try it out. That'll be sometime next week. Tonight is MY family-famous enchiladas.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Food Good
Like some people, I love watching Food TV. It's equal parts entertainment with equal parts fun in trying to replicate. Right now I'm really digging "Good Eats" and "30 Minute Meals." Not that big a fan of the FOOD on Good Eats yet, actually, but what makes it really watchable and cool for me is that the host explains the little details about things like the equipment that I never knew before. Rather than say I need to use a doible boiler, he says I need to use a double boiler, what a double boiler does, HOW to use a double boiler and why. It's really good for people like me who, being somewhat of an idiot savant of cooking before this, is really retarded as to the function of my cooking materials.
A ceramic mortar and pestle are best for grinding your own spices, by the way. Marble is too smoothe and too difficult to get good traction on the spice. Iron is great for texture, but too corrosive.
The best steak I've had:
The thickness you choose will determine the redness/wellness of the meat, so if you like a well done steak, go for something thinner (but not sandwich thin). If you like it bloody like I do, go for something at least a half inch thick. Experiment with the cut until you get the right one for you.
Start by putting some cooking oil on a plate (they suggest Canola. For something healthier, and nicer tasting, I go with extra virgin olive oil, or whatever olive oil is handy).
Preheat cast iron skillet on high (if you don't have a cast iron skillet, use any old skillet that will survive a trip inside your oven), and preheat your oven on 500 degrees farenheit.
Coat both sides of the steak with the oil from the plate. Coat sides of steak with salt and pepper to your taste (actually, I also replace this with steak seasoning. Most grocery stores have a few varieties, all usually sporting some combo of garlic, onion, pepper, salt, red pepper, sometimes cumin...again, try different kinds out and find the one that works best for you. I find it MUCH tastier than just salt and pepper, though just salt and pepper makes a really tasty steak here too).
Now that you have a wet and spicy steak, fry it in your skillet for 30 seconds, flip it for 30 more seconds, flip it and place the skillet inside the oven and cook for two mintues. Then flip the steak and cook it inside the oven for two minutes again. Then you're done.
This meal has a tendency to get very smoky, it's a result you should expect so ventilate well.
Garnish with whatever else you like. Sauteed mushrooms are good. Lately I've really been digging sauteed zucchini with almonds.
A ceramic mortar and pestle are best for grinding your own spices, by the way. Marble is too smoothe and too difficult to get good traction on the spice. Iron is great for texture, but too corrosive.
The best steak I've had:
The thickness you choose will determine the redness/wellness of the meat, so if you like a well done steak, go for something thinner (but not sandwich thin). If you like it bloody like I do, go for something at least a half inch thick. Experiment with the cut until you get the right one for you.
Start by putting some cooking oil on a plate (they suggest Canola. For something healthier, and nicer tasting, I go with extra virgin olive oil, or whatever olive oil is handy).
Preheat cast iron skillet on high (if you don't have a cast iron skillet, use any old skillet that will survive a trip inside your oven), and preheat your oven on 500 degrees farenheit.
Coat both sides of the steak with the oil from the plate. Coat sides of steak with salt and pepper to your taste (actually, I also replace this with steak seasoning. Most grocery stores have a few varieties, all usually sporting some combo of garlic, onion, pepper, salt, red pepper, sometimes cumin...again, try different kinds out and find the one that works best for you. I find it MUCH tastier than just salt and pepper, though just salt and pepper makes a really tasty steak here too).
Now that you have a wet and spicy steak, fry it in your skillet for 30 seconds, flip it for 30 more seconds, flip it and place the skillet inside the oven and cook for two mintues. Then flip the steak and cook it inside the oven for two minutes again. Then you're done.
This meal has a tendency to get very smoky, it's a result you should expect so ventilate well.
Garnish with whatever else you like. Sauteed mushrooms are good. Lately I've really been digging sauteed zucchini with almonds.
Monday, August 09, 2004
Go West
Last week, we took in a new foster kid, #B2. He's fairly nice and easier to deal with.
So I finally borrowed a friend's copy of West Wing seasons 1 and 2 on DVD and have been watching them (and hence not posting here). I avoided the show for quite some time, as the premise seemed very very uninteresting to me. Then, on one of my Fridays at the Chrises, I saw the episode where Ainsley first meets the President while dancing in her bathrobe... which, coincidentally enough, is now how far I've gotten in sequential viewing after borrowing the aforementioned disks. It's proven to be a much more enjoyable show than I'd ever thought it would be. Between it, Justice League Unlimited, Teen Titans and the Food Network (have I got a great steak recipe for you) I've finally decided to bite the bullet and return to being a television subscriber. Hoping to get on to Dish Network, where I can record my shows Tivo-like to watch at my leisure.
So I finally borrowed a friend's copy of West Wing seasons 1 and 2 on DVD and have been watching them (and hence not posting here). I avoided the show for quite some time, as the premise seemed very very uninteresting to me. Then, on one of my Fridays at the Chrises, I saw the episode where Ainsley first meets the President while dancing in her bathrobe... which, coincidentally enough, is now how far I've gotten in sequential viewing after borrowing the aforementioned disks. It's proven to be a much more enjoyable show than I'd ever thought it would be. Between it, Justice League Unlimited, Teen Titans and the Food Network (have I got a great steak recipe for you) I've finally decided to bite the bullet and return to being a television subscriber. Hoping to get on to Dish Network, where I can record my shows Tivo-like to watch at my leisure.
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