(2) When Mongolians need the bathroom, they say "I am just going to look for my horse". When the need for the bathroom is *cough*of a pressing and solid nature, they say "I'm going to look for my camel"
Apparently, yurts now have little solar panels and windmills that power microwaves, TVs and satellite dishes.
There we all are in our cities, thinking "those Mongolians, they're so wild and free with their primitive, nomadic lifestyles" when in fact they're eating fermented Yak yoghurt and watching Seinfeld.
I wish I lived in a yurt. (With a solar-panelled TV, obviously.) I could roam the wild fringes of the Gobi on horseback, knowing that I could safely look for my camel behind the dunes.
(3) I have finally seen a picture of myself which does not make me snort in disgust, and mutter "aaaah, ya fat, four-eyed hoor". That's a good thing. But I'm still going swimming every other day.
I cannot believe that it's taken me this long in my life to grasp the concept that if you eat shite, you'll feel awful. I mean, really, it's not exactly E=MC2, is it?
(4) The West Wing. I believe I am done with downloading TWW after this week's eyerollathon. I'll watch it on E4 if I am in, but I refuse to be all invested in a show when the writers won't even rewatch their glory seasons to get the continuity right (and those buggers should be *studying* those episodes night and day, night and day, to see how TV writing can soar.)
(5) Angel. I how I loved Angel this week. It wasn't a perfect episode by any means because of the cheesier than expected dialogue in places and the troublesome male/female imbalance, but it flew beautifully.
Cavemen and astronauts. Policemen and pirates. We've all had the discussion, though admittedly most of us were drunk at the time
It didn't make me sniffle but then it's seldom the death or break-up scenes that do. It's the long, echoing silences that follow. The comforts of friends that mean so much but help so little. The moments of forgetting and then the crashing realisation 'oh this wasn't a nightmare, it really did happen'
It's Buffy saying to Willow "I can't breathe"; Mulder sliding slowly down his wall in his wrecked apartment, head in his hands...
Ah, the angst. I must confess that I sort of liked the idea of Fred/Wes in the way that I like all such relationships in which camaraderie is set on fire and transformed into love.
I like the idea of it, if only because of the almighty reckoning there would be when both of them were forced to come to terms with the well of darkness inside each other. For Wes's part, he needs someone to acknowledge that he's madder than a sack of weasels and call him on it, and Fred, under the cheerfully ditzy genius facade, probably has so many skeletons that you'd need Cher's walk-in closet to store them all. But if they could get Wes to see Fred's dark side and Fred to make Wes acknowledge his insanity in the way that Lilah seemed to do, it could've been a strong, healthy relationship. Eventually. In the fullness of time. etc etc.
I don't even care that it's a tweaked retread of Cordy/Jasmine, because parts of that episode rocked my socks, from Lorne's sharp turn when Fred sings, to the argument in the office to St Petersburg. I said out loud "oh, I adore you" when Spike did his big speech in the cave and flipped the Vs at NoLying Boy but I am not sure who I was talking to.
My prediction for the end: Angel receives his shanshu for his part in the battle against Illyria and gives the lifeforce to Fred, choosing to continue the good fight. There's a big triple wedding -- Wes and Fred, Angel and Spike and Gunn and the Panther -- in a Jane Austeny sort of way. Lorne sings "Dancing Queen" and "I Will Survive" at the reception, because there's some sort of law of physics that states that these songs must be sung at all wedding receptions or the universe will implode.
Or, you know, not.
But anyway, I am along for the ride.
(6) This week's book: Love All The People: Letters, Lyrics and Routines of Bill Hicks
Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of Bill Hicks' death from pancreatic cancer. He was almost exactly my age. I loved Bill Hicks.
Even when I thought what he was saying was full of shit -- and given his occasional misogyny, that was inevitable -- I appreciated that he didn't care and said it anyway. I think that the 2000 election and the Iraq war would have made his head explode and I wish I could have seen it. This is the man that Denis Leary stole his act from. He did it well and Denis Leary was funny, but Denis Leary is an actor playing an angry stand-up and anyone who saw Bill Hicks saw the real deal.
This book is a grab bag collection of transcribed routines, magazine articles and interviews, a lost pilot and a startling (in a good way) piece of erotica. By its nature it's repetitive but it remains very, very funny. I think I'll keep it where I go to look for my horse.
(7) The Passion of the Christ *sigh*.
Some of the flatmate's acquaintances at work are on the film review team and their four-word review was "stupidly violent and shite". I didn't like the way Gibson distorted history and fetishised violence in Braveheart so I suspect I won't like TPotC either.
According to Geza Vermes, a noted scholar of the New Testament, Gibson has reneged on his promise to remove the blood libel, though he has removed the subtitle for it. Franco Zeffirelli, in an interview with Corriere Della Sera, says that when they were filming Hamlet, Gibson told him that he liked to slaughter cattle on his ranch for fun.
Gibson himself seemed ambivalent about the film's effect on him. In one interview, quoted in the Daily Telegraph, he said of the New York Times's film critic: "I want to kill him. I want his intestines on a stick. I want to kill his dog."
But in an interview with members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, he said: "In a way, it's been interesting because it's forced me to come to grips with one of the basic virtue I'm supposed to exercise here on earth, which is tolerance. I could have gotten nasty and climbed into the gutter to get into a clawing match with some of these guys. But that's not what I'm supposed to do." [Grauniad, 26/02/04]
The story of Christ is valuable and interesting and important, but as denyeverything1 said, it's his *life* that's most interesting.
I had a weird experience on Monday. It was the flatmate's birthday and we went out to Strada off Regent Street for copious amounts of alcohol (which I didn't have) and Italian food (which I did. Risotto con Funghi Porcini *g*). I was the only person from even a vaguely Christian background in the party and found myself being called on to explain the chronology of the New Testament, which is really, really difficult when I haven't been to church in about 14 years.
Flatmate admitted having read the Old Testament for fun when she was in her teens. She keeps on unfolding like a flower. *g*
So, PotC spammers, have at it. I have all my favourite swearwords at the ready. I'll probably tell you to go look for your sodding camel
(8) Meme round-up:
(a) The wayback meme
When I look back over what I was writing a year ago and two years ago, I find that I had not written anything on either of those days. The nearest two entries on both cases bemoan that fact and vow to do better. Plus ça change *g*
Actually, two years ago my dad was still scary-ill and cofax7 had just sent me something for comments, and a year ago I was writing something about angst being antithetical to good baths.
(b) Haven't written many first kisses.
(c) Ask me anything. Go on. Unless you're a TPotC spammer