11.29.04

Many thank yous to hiss and arc-angel for the ego-feeding compliments on my picture. Makes a girl feel all special, an' stuff.

Saturday afternoon I went to the library. Got some books and checked out some videos. Cable was a vast wasteland of nothing I wanted to see and I knew I'd be staying in that evening. Turns out that the library has a half-decent collection of foreign films. The bulk of them are French (quelle surprise!) and subtitled. I indulged myself.

I got La Cage aux Folles. Of course it's the 1970s original. It blows the stupid American re-make out of the water sixteen ways from Sunday.

I got Alphaville. Directed by the mid-1960s creator (popularizer?) of the nouvelle vague and Les Cahiers du Cinema, Godard, and as French as they come. It's an homage to film noir, studied theatricality, and strange non sequitors. It gets terribly French and is difficult for the non-Gallic mind to comprehend.

Lastly, I got Luc Besson's Le Dernier Combat, released in the early 1980s. It's 93 minutes of pure visual storytelling. There's no dialogue, but it's not silent. If you block out the really horrible, early 1980s, French synthesiser music *bleargh*, it's good.I was reminded of the recent short Le Point Omega in some ways.

I feel like cheese, all cultured and crap.

I spent last evening at the Beat Revival. There seem to be a lot of people in relationship flux. Must be the season, or something.

It was nice to sit and talk with people. Give them the (meagre) benefit of my experience--'cause I'm so worldly. *snigger* It was nice to listen to other people, too. Getting other perspectives on things is helpful. Doesn't mean I'll do what they say, but it's good to look from another perspective.

Friday's apple pie is down to a sliver. The bit remaining is due to politeness.

I've noticed that everyone in the house is loath to take the last of anything. So it sits and either rots or shrivels up, then it's thrown away. So strange. Yet I can't break myself of the habit. "Oh no, you take it. No, no. You take it." Argh.

Mater's desire to have a perfect facade is getting more strange. I didn't realize this, but she never appears in front of her husband without make-up and her hair done. She seems more concerned with what others think than with what she thinks. It's tiring.

She objects to my erotic poetry. She ain't gonna be happy about my latest project--a 'zine of well-written erotica for women. (BTW--more on that as it develops. I'm working on the web site right now.)

Oh well. She wants me to succeed, but only at what she'd approve of. That's too bad, isn't it? At least our last names are different, and there's no way to link the two of us.

Well. I'd best get back to studying for tomorrow morning's math test.

Blech.

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