14 July 2002
So I didn't get to play Five Hundred yesterday, but we did see "Spiderman." And I nominate Kirsten Dunst as Best Comedic Actress, because I laughed so hard at her, especially at the love scene attempts. She chewed the scenery like Ms. Pacman, people. It was appalling. Beyond appalling. Just hysterical. And why give an actress lines about how she needs to take acting lessons? Why tempt the audience that way?
And I really loved how they invoked nanotech at the beginning of the movie -- that was what the Green Goblin was working on -- and then totally ignored it. What, you want an explanation for all this stuff? We said the word nanotech. Be satisfied with that. I think we should all write stories around this: "I work in nanotech! Now I am green and insane." Yep. If you do one of those, send it to me, and I'll read it and laugh.
Definitely worth a $3 matinee for the entertainment we got out of it, though. The speakeasy theatre was cool. The chairs were reasonably comfortable, especially since we could pick and choose among them, and the decor was interesting. I wasn't jazzed about the pizza, so if we go again we'll get something else, but it wasn't really bad pizza, it was just not great. (If I'd known, I might have suggested that we get an appetizer to hold us and then head to Zachary's afterwards, but as it turned out, Amber had an all-night flight and wanted to nap after the movie, so it was all for the best that we ate there.) I'd definitely go back -- probably with Amber, though, since it's a bit of a trek just to go.
I read Susan Matthews' Angel of Destruction. Meh. You know how in Star Trek, sometimes they feel obligated to have an episode centered around one of the really minor characters? And it's mildly entertaining sometimes, but on the whole you don't really care? That's how this book felt to me, compared to the other books of hers I've read. On the up side, there were minimal "fish and ocean" sexual metaphors, comparatively, and the fewer of those, the happier I am. Gick. The less I know about anybody's minnow, the better.
I'm about halfway through The Hungarian Revolution. I've covered the parts that are likely to touch on my characters' (distant) actions, but of course I'm going to finish the book anyway, watch how it plays out. I just started Kristine Kathryn Rusch's The White Mists of Power, upon which I have no opinion as yet.
I worked on the book some yesterday, but it was mostly a very media-heavy day. Timprov was alternating among cartoons, the Food Network, and the History Channel in the morning. The result for me was that I want a ship with a retractable smokestack and propeller, and also some ramekins. I think we can tell that this is not a perfect world because I have no ramekins nor anywhere to store them if I did. Nor a ship with a retractable smokestack and propeller nor anywhere to store that, either, but it's a good deal lower on my list than ramekins. Ramekins are right up there with big soup bowls, another muffin tin, a bread machine: things that I want as soon as we have more kitchen storage space. As soon as we have a pantry. I'm not used to wanting things we can afford but don't have room for. Usually it's a matter of affordability, but aside from the bread machine, those things are quite affordable. I want ramekins to make delectable peach desserts like the ladies on the show yesterday. I would, too. We're serious about both peaches and desserts around here.
I'm feeling less scattered today, but what I'm feeling focused on is mostly the book. (Well, that and the things I could make in ramekins. Creme brulee. Lemon pudding.) So I'm going to do that now. Have a good Sunday. Have a happy Michael's birthday (happy birthday, Michael!), and a happy day after Jen's wedding.
(It's very strange to think that Jen is now married, permanent and forever, with someone I have never met. "Strange" isn't quite the word. "Wrong." Yes, that would be the word: wrong. I'm not saying Jen was wrong to get married without my say-so. I'm saying that it is wrong that I wasn't around to meet this guy. She's told me about him as much as she can, and we do expect our friends to grow in ways that we don't always know about...but now he's a part of her, a whole big part I don't know at all. This must be remedied.)
Anyway, right. Novel. Good day.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.