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I returned home from Sophies
to find a lovely message from Jaques. "Rather foolish to suppose you
would be home on a friday evening, but hey it was worth a try". I'll
call him tomorrow and set up a time to watch terrible movies. I
discovered, (was it only yesterday?), that his telly is large enough to
live in. I was somewhat surprised. This incongrous instrument in the
middle of an artists space. The stylized painting of the Joker in
purple hat and tails was only appropriate. Of course, I was slightly
surprised to even be invited home. For the long time we've known
eachother I've never visited. I'm coming to see that it's an
omission, a change in relations when you've been to a persons home.
Seen where they sleep, see how it is they decorate thier walls. I cannot even begin to imagine the look on Bills face if I spend the night over at Jaques watching movies. I laugh to myself as I wonder what this will portend.
It's been a lovely week of very long days. A few hours before bed alone at my computer seems somehow wrong. I've been averaging a bedtime of five eh em. I get home or boot people out into a dark sky and wander my fingers over my keyboard futily trying to convey the energy of my day. Like an orchestra sounding passion, yet leaving me without the knowledge to properly apply pen and paper to decribe the sound.
Ellen, by the way is wonderful. If she doesn't protest, I suggest applying her to all sort of situations. *laughter* Dragging witful people along to things in spite of thier inclusiveness is fun. She professes to shyness, but is very good at hiding it. She also says she's not a very good dancer and I think I will disagree. We met for the second time yesterday. I was wearing the geekery goth shirt I was recently given and so she's offered to lend me The Crow comics, which I have never read. (Marc tells me the panel is a clip from the comic - so wow - two people called it as I remained in bashful ignorance). I think this too will become an excuse to meet again. We talked of films and technologies and the underground spreading culture that is Livejournal. We met through this and we met again yesterday due to a post as well. She gave me some Vonnegut and I bought her coffee at Joe's. Right now, of course, we're being inscestuous and writing of eachother in our journals. All the more joy this way. Tying to ropes of words tighter to bind the world in our interweb.
Later, after I'd sent Robin on his way and inflicted myself on Marc briefly, Ian and I sat up watching New Rose Hotel. It is so very close to being a fantastic film. Our theory is that the budget was spent on coercing acttresses to be naked and naughty with Willem Defoe. It's a horrid thing to say, but honestly - it would have been better spent on lighting. There is no reason under any ghod of your choosing that Willem Defoe needs to be seen showing so much flesh.
It's been a lovely week of very long days. A few hours before bed alone at my computer seems somehow wrong. I've been averaging a bedtime of five eh em. I get home or boot people out into a dark sky and wander my fingers over my keyboard futily trying to convey the energy of my day. Like an orchestra sounding passion, yet leaving me without the knowledge to properly apply pen and paper to decribe the sound.
Ellen, by the way is wonderful. If she doesn't protest, I suggest applying her to all sort of situations. *laughter* Dragging witful people along to things in spite of thier inclusiveness is fun. She professes to shyness, but is very good at hiding it. She also says she's not a very good dancer and I think I will disagree. We met for the second time yesterday. I was wearing the geekery goth shirt I was recently given and so she's offered to lend me The Crow comics, which I have never read. (Marc tells me the panel is a clip from the comic - so wow - two people called it as I remained in bashful ignorance). I think this too will become an excuse to meet again. We talked of films and technologies and the underground spreading culture that is Livejournal. We met through this and we met again yesterday due to a post as well. She gave me some Vonnegut and I bought her coffee at Joe's. Right now, of course, we're being inscestuous and writing of eachother in our journals. All the more joy this way. Tying to ropes of words tighter to bind the world in our interweb.
Later, after I'd sent Robin on his way and inflicted myself on Marc briefly, Ian and I sat up watching New Rose Hotel. It is so very close to being a fantastic film. Our theory is that the budget was spent on coercing acttresses to be naked and naughty with Willem Defoe. It's a horrid thing to say, but honestly - it would have been better spent on lighting. There is no reason under any ghod of your choosing that Willem Defoe needs to be seen showing so much flesh.
