Molly Ivins -- Already Missed

Damn! I always liked Molly Ivins, but living in Texas gave me new appreciation for just how funny she could be. This is a loss for larger than life women everywhere and anybody who loves laughs.


(Photo by Steve McConnell)

From her last column:

We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of there. Hit the streets to protest Bush's proposed surge. If you can, go to the peace march in Washington on Jan. 27. We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, "Stop it, now!"

Joining the Frog Brigade

We cruised down to CT to join the pals for a celebratory lunch with Miss Wendy, the birthday girl (pictured). After our comic car trouble (which didn't feel too comic at the time), we headed out across the Berkshires for the lovely drive down to Willimantic, the new Smithereens CD and other tunes fueling the drive. We had a relaxing evening with the birthday gal who actually made a fabulous dinner for us (the terminally lazy folks). We watched Matador, Spaced (the very finest comedy series ever), Dylan Moran's Monster, then, stuffed with risotto, we vegged and talked while half-watching Aliens and Alien ³. It seems like we have to drive a long way to just relax, but we did actually do it.

Up the next morning, we enjoyed some fine scrambled eggs and a leisurely morning before joining the rest of the gang at Asian Bistro, where the line was forming. I guess the restaurant is doing okay (in contrast to some of the other establishments there previously). A big turn out in Miss Wendy's honor, including the usual suspecte like the Boojums, QOE and Johnny 10X, Marko and even the elusive Bilokur (who showed about an hour late, which is rather early for him). Our wacky hibachi chef entertained us all with high-flaming hijinks and a squirt bottle of saki (right, Cheryl?). The food was sublime (I had salmon, with a few freebie shrimp). You can see why the place has been a success.

While Miss Wendy went off to try her luck at the casino (and her luck was good!) we headed off to Robert's to deliver some more (belated) birthday gifts and say hello to Jordan. Robert of course had some tasty food waiting for us -- mmm, chicken skewers. But we couldn't linger, so off homeward we went to be greeted by a very lonely Kipper who cried until he was picked up for a cuddle. I started reading the paper, but I was also enjoying the second half of Jane Eyre which, of course, reminded me I needed to write a chapter of the serial! It's funny -- now that Alice is at the funeral, there have been ads for "child loss jewelry" from the Google ad bar. So I guess the content is finally affecting the ads, but the "reader" isn't very sophisitcated.

As Inspector Clouseau Might Say

The case is "solv-ed."



The only problem with our new car? Well, see, they only had one key when we picked it up but hoped to find the other one. So we swang by Lowe's and had a duplicate made right away. The problem -- new keys? They have chips in them. So if someone tries to copy your key and steal your car, the car "knows" there's no chip and won't start.

D'oh.

So, now the car is fine. They still can't find the other key, but have promised to reimburse us for a second key, for which we have to go to a Honda dealership (bought our Honda from a Toyota dealer because they had a better deal on used cars).

I guess this also solves the mystery of the dashboard light that looks like a green key...

Memo to Self

Never hurts to be reminded to keep a positive outlook!

We're off to Connecticut this afternoon after a start on the wrong foot thing morning, but we expect that things will only get better from here. The occasion is of course Miss Wendy's annual birthday event, so we'll be meeting up with the Frog Brigade (AKA our pals from the Quiet Corner) at the very fine Asian Bistro just a stone's throw (okay a very long throw) from the Frog Bridge in Willimantic. So, yay!

Review: Pan's Labyrinth

We went last Saturday night with a few friends to see this long-anticipated film. First stop on the bitterly cold night (although not as cold as today, brrr) was the Ultraviolet Cafe next to the Spectrum 8. Tasty sandwiches! We met up with Lou there and had a chance to chat before running back next door to the theater, where Mary Ann, Mandi and Donna already had seats (thanks!). After sitting through the trailer for Volver again (of course, fittingly), the film began.

The first few moments are oddly reminiscent of Miyazaki's Spirited Away, with young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) finding the overgrown old pillar just a few steps from civilization's track. Placing the odd rock she had found into the eye of the statue, she's surprised to see a spindly insect emerge from the mouth of the pillar. "I've just seen a fairy!" she announces to her mother (Ariadna Gil), who is weakly leaning against the staff car trying to keep from throwing up. It's a wonderful opening, setting up the main tenets of Guillermo de Toro's vivid tale: Ofelia's dreamy longing, her mother's struggle, the vague menace of the military (soon to be anything but vague) and the distant father (Sergi López), their final destination. The last player -- Mercedes, the stubbornly determined servant played with a vulnerable ferocity by Meribel Verdú -- appears when the motorcade arrives at the converted mill.

But I've skipped over the very beginning: using the language of fairy tale, del Toro presents a framing narrative about a princess lost from her beloved underworld as the camera drifts from a prone and bleeding child to a spinning subterranean world. He has spoken much about his love of fairy tales (such as this recent interview on Fresh Air). While most of th audience probably takes this as metaphor, there is no reason not to read the story as real (albeit fantastical). The power of fantasy and belief are at the heart of the narrative. While easily dismissed as "childish nonsense," Ofelia's powerful determination to shape her reality shines, even in the face of her mother's cajoling disapproval and her step-father's bloody fascism (literally in this case, he's one of Franco's men).

The boundaries between what we perceive as reality and as fantasy are often hard to determine. The titular labyrinth certainly seems to be real to everyone -- not so the faun at its center. He is a figure both imposing and inviting. Del Toro has said that he wanted the figure (one from his own childhood dreams) to remain a "neutral" figure, neither good nor bad, but a true representative of nature. As we know, nature can be both beautiful and dangerous, always implacable. When he sets the tasks for Ofelia, we don't know whether to see this as an escape from her mother's suffering and the Captain's cruelty, or the possibility of winning release from an intolerable life. The imagery moves fluidly from the delightful to the horrific (although as Gene was quick to point out, the most horrific moments were the ones that were most real -- ewww! I'll never look at a darning needle again without flinching!). There is the delight when the spindly insect observes the picture Ofelia shows it, telling the creature "This is what a fairy looks like!" with all the certainty of a child. At once it reshapes itself into the "true" form. There are also terrifying images: the giant toad at the bottom of a tree and the Pale Man (like Pan, played by Doug Jones), all maggoty white and pendulous skin with his horribly displaced eyes. Like Spirit of the Beehive (another movie that deals with the devastation of Franco's cruel reign), the film highlights the way children attempt to deal with adult crises, not by fleeing their fear, but by embracing horror.

I'm not sure I want to say much more about specifics -- if you haven't seen it yet, you must. It is one of the most visually beautiful films I've seen in some time, and the excellent cast draws you completely into the story. I feel encouraged that there is such a strong return to the fantastic in films recently -- I think the LOTR films did a lot to awaken that hunger for it. It's a draining experience as all great storytelling should be; we all came out of the theatre a little dazed and had to repair to the Fountain for some pizza and onion rings to get our feet back on the ground. We wil ahve much to chew on for a long time yet, thanks to del Toro's Pan.

There's Always Time For...

...silly internet quizzes:

What Fantasy Archetype Are you?
The Mentor You are the prestigous Mentor! You're akin to Gandalf (Lord of The Rings), Merlin (ARthurian Legend), Obi Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Aslan (Narnia), Door (Neverwhere), Dumbledore (Harry Potter) and Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander (Wizard's First Rule). You are wise and knowing, and know that there is not much time left for the Unlikely Hero to defeat The Totally Wicked Villain. Only you know the true motives and past of The Villain, so it's up to you to teach the Unlikely Hero all he has to know. Be careful as you'll invariably regret not telling The Unlikely Hero things sooner rather than later. You like teaching and often care very much for others.
Take The Quiz Now!	Quizzes by myYearbook.com

Team English!

Hey, I finally appear on-line as a member of my department, thanks to the dogged determination of my department chair, Kate. Immortalized with both a smirk and the last of the pink hair, but I am finally there!



I like how the link location for the picture is easily read as "school o' farts" -- tee hee!

Must get!

During a discussion of international horror films on the Horror in Film and Literature list, Todd Mason mentioned the following film (which I will have to research and find one way or another):

But I still need to see the Nigerian/"Nollywood" film with the demon-possessed kitten with eyes that can shoot out death-rays...

Oh, yes! But will it be on Cute Overload?

Jack Ketchum's The Girl Next Door

One of the most disturbing books I have ever read (and we know that's saying something) has been turned into a film. Dallas Mayr, AKA Jack Ketchum, wrote a fictional account of the gruesome 1965 killing of Sylvia Likens. What makes the story -- both the true story and Ketchum's novel -- so stunning is the nature of the crime: she had been horribly beaten and mutilated over months by a gaggle of neighborhood kids supervised by the woman at whose house Sylvia and her sister were boarded by their carny parents. It still stands as Indiana's most shocking crime.

Ketchum's novel is remarkable for its beauty as well as its horror; he captures a lost time of innocent childhood that falls slowly but inexorably into unimaginable degredation. The typical reaction to unthinkable events like this is to stop at the question "how?" Through the young main character, the reader falls down that particularly terrifying rabbit hole, too. I've known so many people who read it and said that they wished they could stop reading it, but couldn't. The awful banality of evil -- that it might take only an unexpected opportunity to bring it out -- is the real chilling heart of the tale.

It promises to be a harrowing film. The script by Phil Nutman and Dan Farrands has been pronounced by Ketchum to be superb, and it's produced by Andrew van den Houten ("Little Mary"). It's hard to believe that they don't have a distributor yet, though they may be in at Tribeca (fingers crossed). If you're interested in seeing this on the big screen, help spread the buzz! You can read more at Fangoria

Grateful

Sigh -- no longer in England, but I can still be grateful for many of its gifts, including (but not limited to):

*The UK cell phone for next to nothing (thanks Brad & Liz!)
*Mulligatawny cup-o-soup(!)
*Jaffa Cakes
*Cadbury Whole Nut
*Cadbury Instant Hot Chocolate
*Books on and by British comedians



Ah well, one can't be on vacation all the time unless one is rich and idle and I am neither (at present). It's the second day of classes, which means I survived the first including my first grad class. It will be interesting to see how it develops. I keep saying I will do less and somehow I always seem to be doing more (including now Boskone). The schedule is up for PCA, so that's something to plan as well. And pay for -- as well as the Tove Jansson conference, which is a bit trickier as paying for things overseas always are. Why can't banks be like Paypal?

There's always more money to spend -- including for a new car. This time we're not going to nickel and dime it, but buy something a little more recent that (we hope) lasts a bit longer.

Oh and the weird thing -- one of our neighbors has taken to singing bizarre spiritual songs at top of his voice about ten pm every night. It might be the guy next door (with the Jesus bumper stickers) but when we looked out the window after being startled by the sound, we couldn't see anything.

Back to work (and mulligatawny soup) after one more time-waster:

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Empress Kathryn the Possible of Goosnargh Leering Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Publication: Icons of Horror and the Supernatural

Yes, it's already been out according to Amazon, etc., but my copy of this two volume set finally arrived today (increasing the likelihood that the check will arrive soon and at the right address). It looks good, as Joshi's projects generally do, and features writers like Brian Stableford, Paula Guran, Darrell Schweitzer and Richard Bleiler (as well as me, of course). My piece is on "The Sorcerer" throughout history from Lucian's Alexander to Alan Moore (thanks to Gene for the background on Doctor Strange).



A pity that I couldn't get my bio changed in time to reflect my new appointment at Saint Rose, but with luck that won't be changing any time soon, so future projects will have the right information. There's a small typo that misidentifies one of my works in progress, but again, that's a minor quibble. Surely any interested party will find my website easily enough.

We woke up to a coating of ice. If I had not played hookey, I might have had my class prep for tomorrow's start of classes done already, and thus I would have been able to stay home drinking hot chocolate and reading novels. Instead I had to be up early and in my office where I toiled to more or less feel like I have prepared for tomorrow. I'm teaching my first grad class! Exciting and daunting -- I'll have to watch that tendency to give them way too much work. But we start with Beowulf and end with Njal, so how bad can it be?

2007 UK Tour (Leg One) Part Two

At the party I was lucky enough to hear about the most fabulous object, the alarm clock I must have. It includes the voice of Stephen Fry saying various things upon one's waking such as, "I am so sorry to disturb you, sir, but it appears to be morning. Very inconvenient, I agree, sir. I believe the rotation of the earth is to blame, sir." What better way to face the morning?

We, however, faced the next morning with some trepidation and no Stephen Fry, as we had been up so late and got rather a slow start. The Brookses dropped me off at Regent's College before heading off on their visits and I settled into my little room at the college where I had first been after my freshman year at Michigan State. Things have changed a bit in the intervening years, oddly enough.



But I had no time to dwell as I was off to Great Dunmow (pictured above), land of the medieval flitch trials, so that meant a trip off to Liverpool Street to jump on the express train to Stansted. After some humorous misunderstandings I finally caught up with my pal Bogie and had a lovely pub lunch with the whole Bogie clan (not to be confused with "bogie" and yes, when in Britain I do try to visit only the people whose names begin with "B"), then lots of lively conversation until rather late -- and of course, I came away with a handful of entertaining disks to take away (thanks again!). Next time, I have to come while it's still light out enough to see the wonders of the garden -- and the rest of the village. Then it was back to Stansted, on the train and then through the darkened park to my little room. The ducks called still at midnight and the song birds awoke me in the morning. Life could be much worse.

The meeting began the next morning, where I met some colleagues from my college (yes, have to go across the pond to meet folks from across the street, so to speak). While chatting with some other affiliates, I found that some were going to see a performance of Spamalot! Ooh -- I knew I had to see if I could get a ticket. I didn't think there would be any performances on a Monday night, but there was, hurrah! Yet again, sitting in the gods, but all I really missed was a tiny bit of Tim the Enchanter's head during his first arrival (accompanied by the usual sense of vertigo while climbing to my seat). What fun -- I hope to force Gene to see it too when he comes along in May (you will go to England in May, Gene, we are all mesmerizing you with this thought -- others feel free to ignore, unless you too would like some of the action-packed fun!). What makes the show so much fun even for people who have all Python dialogue memorized is the rearrangements of material into new juxtapositions and the silly show-ness of it, which of course is central to making it a musical. Just like the original "Camelot" number, Idle's script skewers the conventions of musicals then uses those same conventions to make a satisfying show that works both as a comedy and, yes, a musical. There's something deeply joyful about a huge crowd of people singing along (twice!) to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."

On the second day of the conference, a speaker mentioned the current show at the Tate Modern, "Test Site" by Carsten Höller, part of his Unilever Series. I had to go! Giant slides that stretch from each floor to the bottom of the Turbine Hall (you can watch live video of the ends of the chutes on line). I got my tickets and headed up to the third floor slide. You have to get on a little canvas sliding cloth with a sort of pocket into which you thrust your shoed feet, then fold you arms, tuck your chin and slide. It's odd, the sudden sensation of falling then the sort of ribbing that slows your descent before you pop out onto the main floor, blinking and disoriented. The fourth floor slide gives you more of that strange and helpless sense of falling and even more dizziness, but by the time I got to the fifth floor the lines were shorter and the padding greater (like skater gear for elbows, and a recommended hat which no one took). I actually looked out of the slide as I went down -- more dizzying, but I was finally able to enjoy the view rather than just worrying about falling. Highly recommended.

There was a dinner at the college that night -- which turned out to be rather a swanky affair for which I was entirely unprepared and felt terribly awkward and uncomfortable (although my immediate seat mates proved entertaining). It was held in the library at the longest table at which I have ever sat and had lovely food and too much wine. It was so much nicer to go back to Hanwell and the comforts of a friendly home (after I finished all the shopping I needed to do). We finally had our GBK dinner and it was terrificly tasty. Then a relaxing evening and an easy-going morning before I had to finally pack up my bag and head home in the wind and rain. Many thanks to my friends (especially Brad and Liz and Sophie!) for making my trip another fun one.

2007 UK Tour (Leg One)

Apologies if the title invokes images of Mr. Spiggott (spigot by name, spigot by nature), but as this is the first of three planned trips, might as well do what I can to disambiguate them, as they say. Let's see, when I last bothered to write, I had arrived in Hanwell and was anticipating a lovely fish and chips dinner (yum!). The same day flight had a surprising lack of jet lag, a definite plus and I felt rather chipper after my long day that had started the rather early and included falling up the steps at the hotel in Boston.


The next day we were off to drop Sophie at school, then head to a birthday lunch for Brad at GBK, the New Zealand sensation now with a branch in Ealing Broadway. To our dismay, the whole block was experiencing power outtages and we were out of luck. Little did Brad know, another pal of his had flown over from France to join us which created a bit of a problem to keep it a secret *and* move to another location without Brad wondering too much why Liz kept texting with her phone. Fortunately, he was still surprised when we turned the corner on the way to Cafe Uno and ran into Brucie. A nice leisurely lunch later, we picked up Miss Sophie and did a little shopping before heading back to Chez Brooks where video games and later, pizza (mmm) were much enjoyed.

Saturday was my day to see the History Boys in town, so I left early to leave the busy household to prepare for the onslaught of the parties that afternoon and evening. Good thing I left early: the Central Line was down. Argh! This was the day I made the realization that public transport is like computers. You take it completely for granted until it's not working and then you curse it like mad because it's so inconvenient. So off I went to jump on the replacement bus service and thus saw things I had never seen before (as I would usually be underground). Well, the interesting-ness of that faded as the time ticked away and particularly when we arrived at Shepherd's Bush only to find that station gated too. Argh! Fortunately, everyone was in the same boat, so we all implored the staff for guidance and soon I was on a bus to Oxford Circus where, alighting from the bus I found myself soon soaked and very glad I had the red wool cape (such a bargain!) to keep the rain off my face.

I had a little less time than I had expected to peruse the bookstores on Charing Cross Road before the show, but I did at least have a little time, but (oh horror!) found nothing that made me buy, although I thought seriously about one or two things (including the first of a few books on Eric Morecambe that I am now kicking myself for not getting, but it did end up being an expensive trip). Then of course it was on to the Wyndham's for the play. Standing room only! And lots of very moist folks crowding into the theater.

It was interesting to see it with another cast -- easier to concentrate on the play itself, which is different from the movie version in some interesting ways. In many ways, the film softens the narrative. The second narrative weaving through the first weights events more carefully than the wholy straightforward chronology of the film does. Nice to see Cousin Jasper on stage -- the cast were all excellent and the view from sitting in the gods gave a good perspective on the shifts behind the scenes. Terrific show and I was so glad to have had a chance to see it.

The play ran rather long (not quite three hours) so I decided to head back, this time taking the more circuitous (but speedier) route via Paddington, because the train to Oxford stops right at Ealing Broadway. Thus I made it back to Hanwell in far less time than it had taken setting out and got back to Chez Brooks during the lull between the two parties and so fed my face and chatted with folks and prepared for the second wave and Liz's superb beef casserole (which seemed more like a Boeuf Bourguignon -- mmmm, need that recipe!).

More later -- so much to do! The semester starts Tuesday and am I ready? Ha!

Hello from Hanwell

-- where we're celebrating Brad's birthday (how old, may you ask? Hmmmm, I've heard that he's 5 according to Sophie...) and had a very fine lunch and about to have some tea and more relaxing. It's a tough life, eh?

Well, after falling down in the hotel in Boston and banging my knees, things have only gotten better. There were enormous lines at the airport, but I got through in time and on the plane. Nice, quiet flight -- and I would have finished my book jsut as we were landing, but we had to hover around for a while which wasn't too bad because we had a beautiful view of London all lit up. I like the daytime flight -- no jet lag to speak of! Very nice.

Tomorrow -- History Boys, a little shopping and a party!

England Awaits!

Off to Beantown tonight to take the early flight to London. Unusual -- the flight leaves in the morning and gets me there the same evening. We'll see if this reduces jet lag. So much to do! Friends to see, gifts to deliver, meetings to attend -- and at least one play. I'm sure I'll manage a little shopping as well (I always do). Charing Cross Road is too hard to resist. But first I better finish packing. I'm not any less excited about going, but I realize I've become a bit blasé about the process at this point. I remember when I spent days packing -- not anymore! But I did have to take a bigger bag ("you're gonna need a bigger bag...") because it's packed full of goodies for a certain birthday boy.

Reprinted: Walpurgisnacht

My short story "Walpurgisnacht" has been republished by The Pagan Activist. Drop by and refresh your memory of this short story set on the dark night of April 30th, the time when witches are supposed to fly across northern Europe. I originally wrote this for a Take Back the Night event at UConn. I figured it might be the only thing that wasn't poetry, but I think the relevant subtext (child abuse) was too subtle for a reading -- it works better in print. But writers are notoriously bad judges of their own work.



Some traveling evangelists knocked on the door today. I smiled as I sent them away, because of course it made me think of the first episode of Black Books (see the quotes; Bernard welcomes an unexpected visit from Mormon missionaries). But I haven't begun to even think about taxes... yet.

Year End Delights

A nice surprise to come home to: Elena has posted the birthday lunch video at her American Blogress site. All 57M of it! So, if you want to start your year off right, go check out Elena's cartoon debut on ESPN!

Albany really is Lebowski land: there's a giant bowling pin in someone's back yard by the Thruway, just north of the New Baltimore rest area.

Saturday we headed up to Saratoga for tenderloin (like buttah!) and hootenany with the Crispinus clan. Yummy food! Thanks, Krista and Dan. Kaity kept us entertained when she was not freaking poor Hamilton out. I now know four chords instead of three and everybody had fun playing the Hello Kitty guitar (how could they not?). It's colder up there -- more snow than the dusting we got. It was awfully chilly coming home.



We got up early the next morning to head down to the city to catch Julie Taymor's Magic Flute at the Met. The fabulous costumes were indeed gorgeous. All the kids (and not a few of the adults) emitted gasps of delight when the dragons first flew around the stage after curtain went up. The dancing bears were just wonderful (even Stephen Colbert would have to love these bears!) as were all the birds and the stunning costumes. It was great fun and an amazing spectacle.

Later as we stood waiting for a subway at Times Square, Gene noticed the signs saying there was no exit to the street for that day only -- how could we forget where we were? Just a few hours later (or perhaps, even then!) the streets would be crammed with thousands of celebrating folks (as it happened, we saw them later on tv). Of course, we were heading down to the Strand to see if there were any books that needed liberating. We headed back to Grand Central just in time to catch the 5.51 to Poughkeepsie (but not Robert's call).

We called Robert back and he invited us to stop by after the train got in. He was having dinner with Anna (another fabulous feast!) but there were some faboo leftovers for us when we got there. He even persuaded us to stay the night so we enjoyed some tasty Veuve Clicquot not having to drive that night. We ran upstairs just in time to catch the ball falling in Times Square on the tv, toasting one another as the new year began.

On the road back home this morning, I saw a raven, perched on the divider between the lanes on the Thruway. Good omen for the new year!

Review: The History Boys

Yes, we finally saw it. We went to the first matinee yesterday, reward to myself for finishing the first draft of the paper due tomorrow. Rewards are important -- especially with something like writing where the end result is usually a long way away from the initial "completion."

Not surprisingly, the only place the film was playing was the Spectrum 8, Albany's best movie theater for the discerning film fan. I think we've been to it more than any other theater, including the one nearest us. The theater was surprsingly packed for a weekday, but as Gene noted, it is winter break (although we were among the youngest folks there, so perhaps it is normal for the Spectrum).

Of course, I was already predisposed to love the film. It's hard not to enjoy a film that grapples with some of the key issues that continue to plague teaching when you're a teacher (particularly in the No Child Left Behind era). It's hard not to romanticize the idea of teaching (in contrast to the daily struggle of making progress as a teacher). I don't imagine that my students will go on to become artists and scholars; I'm happy if they can still understand references to books we read earlier in the semester.

Bennett's play turns on a number of complex issues, but a central one is what sort of knowledge is important. Richard Griffith's Hector conveys his love of literature and its magic, mixing the high and the low to keep students from pretentious navel gazing. The slick new instructor, played by "Bright Young Thing" Stephen Campbell Moore, turns the students toward the efficacious in order to win their desired goal -- admission to Oxbridge. Naturally enough, the boys themselves become a pendulum between the two approaches, alternately swayed one way or the other as they feel the benefits of each approach.



But the key moment comes from the much overlooked Totty, played by the amazing Frances de la Tour (last seen as the giant Madame Maxime in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire). She disposes of both approaches with an insightful spade of feminist scholarship, snapping, "History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with the bucket." Typically enough, the men smirk behind her back and go on with the mock interviews.

It's only a moment, but it's the best moment of the film -- and it's a film filled with wonderful moments. While many of the moments are expected, there are a number of surprising developments and a lot of good laughs (this is Alan Bennett after all -- Gene pointed out how very Bennett-like the weaselly headmaster's last speech is). I can't wait to see the play in London!

Coolest Yule Gift Ever

Wow -- it's great to have talented relatives! Look what Robert made for me (the picture doesn't do it justice):



Talk about your one of a kind item! He made these charms from 18k gold. A bobbin, a spindle and a ring -- the three tokens carried by young Hallgerd in my novel Pelzmantel represent her link with the past and the responsibilities that lie in her future. Handed down from mother to daughter, the three items reflect the timeless reminders these women have had to keep in mind to rule fairly and well.

The bobbin for guidance through wisdom and sense,
The spindle for drawing out all excellence,
The ring for binding the oath to this land
To love and protect and be at its command.

I just can't get over it -- what a great surprise. Thanks again, li'l brother!

And he spoiled us with food, too. A birthday cake, prime rib, crab legs, baked mashed potatoes and asparagus (well, there had to be something healthy). Yum! All under the watchful gaze of Joey Heatherton.



We had a great Xmas eve dinner over at Anna's (thanks, Anna -- hope you're feeling better!) and a lot of talk and good times. So stuffed from all the food, I may not need to eat for days. And the weather wasn't bad either (fair bit of rain last night, but no snow), so we walked around in the greenery, fed the ducks and even enjoyed the koi pond (yes, with yule crown).

Cool Yule

We're at Robert's enjoying a little time away. We got here last night after Gene had to work a Saturday (ugh, how happy are folks who get service calls on the Saturday of Xmas weekend? Not very). Robert had a big tray of sushi waiting for us which was very yummy.

Today we sipped mimosas while decorating the tree. Showing those pagan proclivities, I had an impromptu puppet theater with figures from the nativity scene (maybe it was the mimosas) which Gene dutifully filmed on the Treo. We're off to Anna's for an afternoon party, and later... who can say?

Pictures to come -- Gene was snapping photos earlier. I'm wearing my Yule crown of holly and mistletoe and bells.

Relaxing is good. We have a stack of Xmas cds and a pile of British comedy dvds. Holidays are good. Hope everybody we know is having a good time today!

History Boys

No, it's not the review of the show, unfortunately. We had planned to hit a matinee yesterday and unexpectedly (well, I suppose if we had thought about it, it might not have been a surprise) ended up in a an unbelievable snarl of traffic downtown and missed the show's start. So, another day. But I did get a ticket to see it in London!



I was thinking of trying for a half price ticket when I got there, but found I could order a cheap balcony ticket online and not have to wait in line. Yes, it is still possible to see West End plays for reasonably cheap, unlike Broadway. I had actually gone on line to check ticket availablity for the Punchdrunk Productions version of Faust, which I had read about in the NYTimes. There's a performance on Jan 9 that I might be able to attend, but tickets are not available on line. So we'll see.

Well, soon I'll get to see the film, and a bit later, the play (at last!) and who knows -- London is full of opportunities. I get to see friends and hang out and relax. How good is that?!

Catherine the Great

We finally got around to seeing For Your Consideration and while it was not really successful, it did feature Catherine O'Hara, one of the funniest women in the world. She managed to give her character, aging actor Marilyn Hack, both hilarious moments and actually warm and touching ones as well. Celebrated first when she and Andrea Martin anchored the otherwise male cast of Second City Television, who can forget her wonderful Katharine Hepburn or the borderline suicidal ex-star Lola Heatherton? She is the center of the film despite the star-studded cast, including most of the other truly funny women working today: the wonderfully loopy Jennifer Coolidge (her short scene with Ricky Gervais is just priceless), the razor sharp Jane Lynch, the fearless Parker Posey, and an almost unrecognizable Rachael Harris. In part, that may be the biggest problem -- an embarrassment of riches that distracts from the connections, and like A Mighty Wind, there's a little too much fondness for the characters (not all of them! wow -- there are some brilliantly oily Hollywood types). Comedy requires distance; we can't laugh at people we care for and as ridiculous as O'Hara's Marilyn becomes, we pity her desperate vulnerability. A mixed bag, the film has some wonderful moments through out, some laugh out loud, some so tiny but wonderful (Larry Miller proves once again a master of minute) that while ultimately a failure, I'd gladly watch it again.



And while I'm on this tack, I want to rant a bit about Christopher Hitchen's ridiculous tirade "Why Women Aren't Funny" in the January issue of Vanity Fair. First -- huh? As a woman surrounded by funny intelligent women, I say again -- huh? There’s the usual folderol about how women can’t do stand up because they’re too busy birthin’ babies, then backed up by examples Fran Lebowitz, Nora Ephron and Roseanne Barr.

Old much? At least two of those women used to be funny, so that’s something, but get with the times, Hitch. Leaving aside for the moment all the funny women from his native shores (off the top of my head, let’s just mention Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French, Joanna Lumley, Julia Sawalha, June Whitfield, Emma Thompson, Imelda Staunton, Julia Davis, Kathy Burke, Caroline Aherne, Tamsin Grieg, Julie Walters, Patricia Routledge…and the list goes on and on and on) there are so many funny women on these shores that it’s impossible to list them all. Even going back farther than Hitch himself does to mid-century stars like Totie Fields and Phyllis Diller, their crowns have been more than adequately carried forward by contemporary women like the ones mentioned in the first paragraph of this post, as well as, oh let’s just mention, Lily Tomlin, Gilda Radner, Madeline Kahn, Terri Garr, and the ever fabulous Julie Kavner.

Two words, Hitch –- Amy Sedaris.

The fact is there have always been funny women -- admittedly, a lot of Hrotsvit’s jokes were lost behind the pious posturing of her Christian moralizing, but still! But humor does generally require intelligence and there is a certain kind of Neanderthal male that fears any show of intellect on the part of women. Fortunately, the world is full of smart, funny men who like smart, funny women (and in my case, marry them).

Of course, this is not too surprising coming from a man who has gone from a Trotskyite to a neocon. Men do tend to get more conservative as they get older, but it’s a pity Hitchens’ self-imposed cocoon has kept him from experiencing some of the best comic minds out there -- just because they happen to be female. Open your eyes, Hitch, and your mind. You’ll laugh a lot more.

Winter Solstice

The darkest day is passing now (technically up here in the north, it has already passed) and the return of the light always brings with it hope, even if the cold intensifies. There are songs to sing and various celebrations of which the best known are still Christmas, Hannukah and Kwanzaa, but throughout the known history of this world, this has been a time to feel hope after the dark days and dream of the spring to come. It's still a long way off, which is why we need those February celebrations to keep us going through the cold and snow. The new moon falls on this day as well, so we have a return to light even in the night sky.




Hey -- and it's Frank Zappa's birthday, too. So, don't eat the yellow snow, all you mudsharks!

Great Singer or the Greatest Singer?

Can you tell classes are over? Not that I don't have a million and one things to do, but after a training session on archiving all my Blackboard files (dead easy) my first thought was "Can I find some good Vic vid on YouTube?"

Well, of course!



Vic sings "Dizzy" with the Wonderstuff on MTV3 with the usual Vic and Bob stage crawling -- not good sound or image, but hey, it's YouTube the land of many wonders that you might not otherwise be able to see (although I have a PAL tape of Vic videos that I need to transfer).

If you think that's bad, at least I didn't put up a link for Mulligan & O'Hare or Slade in Residence!

Glimpsed on this Morning's Walk

About eight turkeys; one dead squirrel and perhaps a quarter of another; one red balloon, half-deflated...

Up Against the Wall 4

The latest issue of Up Against the Wall is online! It features interviews and reviews of all kinds of faboo stuff, from Anya Martin's take on the Dark Shadows dvds to an interview with horror/fantasy/sf cover artist John Picacio.

Yeah, and a review by me, too (hey, gotta self-promote on a day like today with two rejections already, argh).

Celebrating with Friends Old and New

We headed over to Northampton yesterday to meet up with our pals at India Palace for my birthday lunch. We started running into folks right after we left the Raven, no surprise (well, only surprise is that we didn't meet them in the Raven). We also got calls from both sets of folks before we got to the restaurant, so I had a chance to thank them for their gifts as well. The staff at the restaurant was a bit overwhelmed by the thought of a table of 16, but they coped and we were easy going enough that it wasn't a problem.

I don't know if their other customers shared that opinion. It was quite a voluble crowd and like the Garden Party, everyone was there and there was indeed magic in the air. There were the Queen and Johnny 10X, Marko, Rod and Elena, the Boojums Joey and Cheryl, GK4 and Donna, Miss Wendy, Robert, and meeting them all for the first time (wouldn't that be a bit intimidating?), Dan and Krista and Kaitlyn.

It was the most wonderful gift to be surrounded by our family of friends. We're so glad to be back in the Northeast (not that we don't miss our friends down in Houston!) and with folks we have known so long. Of course, even though I repeatedly said that was the only gift I needed, they loaded me up with fine birthday swag, too. Wow -- amazing generosity, guys! The gifts ranged from the thoughtful to the personal to the wacky and all were very much appreciated.

After a long and laugh-filled lunch, we headed off for shopping around town. Northampton has the advantage of being about the same distance for all of us as well as full of terrific shopping opportunities. We kept running into one another the rest of the afternoon, and by the time the shops were closing, those of us left headed over to the Tunnel Bar for a relaxing drink. Swanky! Gene and I had never been there, so it was quite a treat. The big overstuffed chairs make a great little private enclave, so we chatted until quite late, but finally had to make our way back home (grades were due today!).

It was a great birthday! But has anyone painted their cats yet?



New friends: we headed over to (near) Peebles Island Saturday night for a Yule celebration with some new local friends. Yummy food (pot luck!) and lots of laughs, singing and a new tradition: the wraparound! Various gifts were wrapped in layer after layer of wrapping paper, which each person would have a go at it, taking off one of the layers. You never knew if you would get nothing or something fabulous. It was a lot of fun. So we're getting to know people here, too, and having a good time doing it. It's always hard to move to a new area; we're lucky to have a lot of "built-in" friends in the region, but we're also making new friends which is very pleasing.

Graduation Day

It was my first graduation day at Saint Rose. I had to be up early to catch the bus to the Empire Center (Home of the Egg!) with the rest of the faculty. Fortunately, we had labeled the box with the caps and gowns very clearly, so we didn't have to hunt for them. Now no longer in the big box taking up space here at home, but hanging in the closet in my office.



Quite a bit different from UHD graduation in Minute Maid Park. The convention center is at least set up for this kind of event. They had refreshments for us faculty but I didn't actually partake with the thought of sitting for a couple of hours. I did have my PDA (AKA the Sampo) with me, so I could read during the less engaging portions, but I was curious to see how Saint Rose graduation woudl be different. Smaller college, smaller list of names -- particularly for mid-year graduation. As it's my first semester, I only knew one graduate. I'm sure int he future I'll know many more.

They had us line up by seniority, so of course the newbies were all in the back where we could learn the ropes without too much stress. It always feels funny to be wearing these medieval robes and funny hats. Somehow the solemnity always leads to a few giggles. Of course, the proud parents and gleeful friends provide the most entertainment, shouting, whooping and clapping for the graduates.

We were back to campus by noon!

The Queen: Jane Tennyson Gets Royal

We had dinner last night with pals Kim and Kelly at El Loco, a sort of nouveau Mexican restaurant. Very good and healthy dishes (whole wheat quesadilla!), good taste, although it did not quite assuage my longing for Tony's quesos flameados. Then we headed over to the Spectrum 8 to catch a film; well, when I say we, three of us went -- Kim, poor Kim, went home to grade. How very sad!

We saw The Queen featuring the always reliable Helen Mirren, who when she's not classing up horrible fiascos like Caligula or bringing criminals to heel in Prime Suspect uses her spare time to turn in Oscar-worthy performances. Or at least Golden Globes, as of today I gather. It is a fantastic performance -- I won't say it makes you sympathize with the queen, but you do kind of pity her for being a living antique in a world that finds her veneer unfashionable.

It takes place at the time of Diana's death (even now still making headlines) and shows the chilly reaction the royals have to the event in contrast to the tears and wailing of the public. It's amazing the effect it had -- seeing the footage again I still found it hard to grasp. If he had married Parker Bowles (and no, it's not possible to hear that name without hearing "Nooooo!"), it wouldn't have happened, yes for all kinds of reasons, but mostly because she's plain. Because Diana was beautiful, people projected all kinds of feelings onto her. We're easy prey to glamor.

As the film unfolds, the then-fresh Tony Blair (Bright Young Thing Michael Sheen) realizes the mistake the family is making and tries to get them to "modernize" but they don't seem up to the task (James Cromwell is not nearly vicious enough to be Prince Philip). The bubble that surrounds them is well maintained by Lord High Everything Else Robin (played by the wonderful Roger Allam, last seen as the very evil Prothero in V for Vendetta) who is genuinely stunned to see other servants crying over Diana, assuming they all share his opinion of her (which is of course the queen's).

There's a bit of heavy handed symbolism, but it's such an interesting story and Mirren is just captivating as HRH. It'll be interesting to see if she does get the Oscar nod; considering that she doesn't die or play a hooker, the odds seem against it. But the gorgeous scenery of Scotland -- wow, it was just lovely and made me want to back again. A nice long tour of the highlands would be wonderful: maybe when we win the lottery!

This morning on our walk we stumbled across a baker's dozen of wild turkeys. We wouldn't have seen them at all if we weren't tsking about all the junk people had chucked from the their cars on Boght Road, but there they were. Some were sitting on a fallen tree, the others pecking about on the ground. When they realized we weren't continuing our walk, they started to slowly make an exit. We tried to get a snap of them, but they were far away with too many trees in between. So here's a picure from the Michigan government:



Ooh -- forgot to mention! They showed The History Boys trailer before the film -- coming December 22. Hurrah!

Wise Words from Ancient India

The Tirukural is an ancient Indian book of wisdom, written in Tamil probably between 100-300 BCE. I actually get a verse a day from it. Today's missive had a very striking comment with great resonance for me. In the email version I receive, it was rendered as:

KURAL 129

The wound caused by fire heals in its time;
the burn inflicted by an inflamed tongue never heals.

I decided I wanted to see the original, so I Googled^TM for it and found this:

129. தீயினாற் சுட்டபுண் உள்ளாறும் ஆறாதே
நாவினாற் சுட்ட வடு.

The fire-burnt wounds do find a cure;
Tongue-burnt wound rests a running sore.

The art of translation is a lively one, but in either case, the sentiment is vivid and resonant.

Electric Kawaii!

As we're a little short on funds this year and trying to avoid the whole tragic silver comb/watch fob fiasco, we bought one present for the season to share between us. But it's a doozy:



What could be more kawaii?! Fender and Sanrio join together (with a little help from Target -- free shipping even) to get girls rocking and we benfit. It's a real Fender guitar. Gene is teaching me chords and being very patient. It's so much fun just playing music. No, we're not going ever be rock stars, but that's not the point. People just don't make their own music anymore and it's a real pity. It used to be that everybody knew how to make some kind of music, but now everybody passively listens to professionals. Forget that -- make some noise, have some fun. As Oliver Wendell Holmes once said,

Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!



Speaking of kawaii, we finally saw all the episodes of Jonathon Ross' "Japanorama" (or as he says, "Japanawama"). Above is a still from his interview with Minoru Kawasaki, director of "Crab Goalkeeper." We learned a lot of new things that we had never seen before (beetle sumo wrestling! creepy Super Dolfie collectors!) and learned a new term for a concept we had noticed before but didn't know it had a special name: "kawaii noir"! Like the cute but dangerous Gloomy Bear who is adorable, neotenic and pink -- but a bear! Sharp claws and an instinct to bite -- so he attacks poor Pity, the boy who rescues him as a cub (I guess Timothy Treadwell never saw Gloomy Bear). Kawaii noir still has the kawaii reaction but with a twist. The show is terrific fun and Ross is a hoot as always, jumping into any new challenge with abandon, even dressing up with super-famous Japanese phenom [yes, really], the former wrestler who now appears as "Hard Gay Man" (it's a different culture, ain't it?). Japan is notoriously homophobic, so it's peculiar to see this cartoonish character become so popular -- even among children. Many teachers apparently think he's a bad influence because kids go around imitating his moves (there are two, thrusting his pelvis and shouting "Hard Gay!").

Well, hmmm -- wandered away from the HK guitar, eh? Well, it's fun and for the future, there's always accessories to get, too!

Scholars and Artists Grant

I received a nice surprise this weekend -- in the form of an email from our Provost telling me that I was one of the lucky ten who will be receiving a Scholars and Artists Grant from the College. Yay! This means time and a little money, so I can focus on completing the Anglo-Saxon book project and get it to a publisher (fingers crossed) by next fall. I'm beginning to get better at this grant writing process!

Beatum Diem Tenurem!

Or words more or less to that effect -- gratulatio, Crispinus, on achieving tenure! As Catullus said, the golden light of your radiance reflects upon us all.

Nineteen Degrees

It's a bit to get used to again, feeling those temperatures below freezing. The snap of the frozen grass is a memory so old I could not forget it even if I haven't heard it in years. As I went out for my walk this morning, the cold felt particularly biting. I think I need mittens -- my black leather gloves, although they have Thinsulate, are not going to be enough for things like shoveling snow. The importance of breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth becomes very clear on a day like this. Let the cilia do their work.

By the time I got to the top of the hill to head west into the very strong wind, my fingers had warmed again even if my cheeks had become numb. At least going a bit later (closer to 9) there was far less traffic. My red wool cape may not be all that aerodynamic, but I figure the wind resistance just adds to the aerobic workout. I couldn't figure out at first how I got Nick Cave's "Henry Lee" in my head, but then I recalled the lyrics,

and the wind did howl and the wind did moan...

although the groans came mostly from the bare tress rubbing against each other in the wind as if trying to stay warm. It seemed odd to have a murder ballad in my head when I was in such a good mood, but in the midst of life we are in death. I had already on my mind when I awoke that today's date is a very sad one; I was nearly all the way back down the hill when I saw the lifeless body of one of our local cats, soft peach and white. It must have been struck by a car. It was one of the cats Kipper stared at out the windows, crying. Poor little thing -- but it's a busy street and people just don't care.

Not every thing can be mended; destruction is a much a part of life as creation. But occasionally we can stave off the inevitabiliy of dissolution. I mended the broken gnome with some tacky glue (thanks, Susan). He's pictured here in pieces, along with my ever appropriate mug from the Museum of Funeral History in Houston. It sports the legend, "Any day above ground is a good one." Indeed.



After gluing him back together, I put him in the window to dry. Now he faces out to the porch like a child staring from the sick room, eager to rejoin his friends outside.

Broken Gnome

Now I realize what that loud crash and thumping sounds was. I guess somebody left the building very unhappy...

We'll see what glue can do!

Krampus Eve and a little snow

It will be Krampus eve tonight and we have a dusting of snow. When I went out for my walk I saw a lot of chaos everywhere as people drove over the light snow packing it into ice, particularly on Boght Road where I usually walk. It's a hill and, of course, there was a good deal of sliding, so I cut my walk short and instead cleared snow off the car and driveway (also aerobic!).

It seems that around here if you start to skid on the ice, the thing to do is to blow your horn. Not sure why, but I saw that scenario repeat a few times this morning. By the time we went out to go to work, the roads were mostly clear, though we still drove with caution (it's been a while).

We got a cool Krampus card from the Boojums -- no surprise, eh?

And if you don't know who the Krampus is, clearly you need to buy a copy of my chapbook When Little Joe the Krampus Met! All I have to do is find the box that has all the chapbooks (including the frog ones) and I can list them for sale here and on the website. In the meantime, enjoy this vintage card:

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Well, the upshot of the endoscopy is that I don't have the bacteria they suspected most likely, so I probably don't have an ulcer, but they're giving me ulcer medicine anyway (famotidine: side effects may include "fussiness"). And I'm supposed to change the way I eat -- mostly by eliminating anything potentially troubling to a stomach, including (but not limited to):

caffeine, chocolate, alcohol, fat, bacon, tomatoes, cream (and cream soups, ice cream, etc.), spicy peppers, peppermint... and the list goes on.

Perhaps the most painful thought is giving up my morning tea, which is as much ritual as beverage. But it would be nice to get rid of the persistent reflux, so I have to resign myself to mending my ways. Of course, this is less than inspiring, particularly in the midst of the holiday season when people are making such tasty dishes and richly fatty desserts.

Sigh.

Well, let me console myself with something from Cute Overload:

Preview: House of Black Wings

Chicago film maker David Schmidt has just posted a lot of news on the website for his new Lovecraftian film House of Black Wings, which will be wrapping up shooting in December. I can't wait for it to come out!



I may be biased, of course. You may recall my glowing review of his witty adventure-comedy Sword of Hearts in the premiere issue of the fabulous Phil Nutman's Up Against the Wall magazine.

But having had a sneak peak at the script and some photos from the shoot, I feel totally justified in gushing. If you're tired of endless torture-foo (which seems to be Hollywood's only conception of horror at present), you too will yearn to see a film that has heart and character as well as plenty of chills.

Trust me -- and check out the website for fine snaps of the artwork and filming!

A Gift from Lapland

A little present I got for myself; I have always loved these drums, but I never imagined I could get one. Ain't the internet great? Thanks to Michelle (the seller) and Irene (the Sámi artisan) I have a beautiful drum with designs I had a hand in choosing. Very exciting!



If you don't know much about shaman's drums, please see this page for more information about the history of the instrument.

T-Day Dial-Up Horror!

Well, Robert still has a dial-up modem, so I'll be brief: much turkey, stuffing, badadas (po-ta-toes), pie and cake. Mmmmm. Gene, Brenda, Robert, Jordan and I having a good time and eating far too much. We went out to catch the new Bond film (more about that later, I suspect) and will no doubt consume more food soon. Robert sure does know how to lay a spread.



Who wants cake?!

Endoscopy

I had an introduction to this unpleasant procedure today. The nearest thing to it that I had experienced was when they checked my vocal chords before the the thyroidectomy. Hmmm, I thought -- will they make me sing? No, they stuck a thin filament down my throat to take a look, but I choked too much and so, lucky me, they went through my nose.

Well, things have changed a bit in the ensuing years. Now they numb your throat and give you a mild sedative via IV and then they stick a filament down your throat. Less choking -- though not as comfortable as, oh say, anything that doesn't involve things going down your throat. But fairly quick. And they can take samples, too, which they did. At this point the vague diagnosis of gastritis is all they have. By Monday the doctor will know better having had a chance to get out the microscope. It may well be a common bacteria that can be addressed with antibiotics. On the other hand, it may call for more permanent changes in diet (like loss of chocolate and caffeine!), so in the mean time I just have to keep taking the Prevacid.

I'm home recovering while Gene's at work. Slept for a couple hours and probably should rest more. Kipper is all in favor of that.

Mash-ups Go Mainstream

Yeah, yeah, yeah -- I had to go out and get the new Beatles album. It is fun. More fun than a week of rejections (just got one more, yay).