welcome to eden

( pretentious though mercifully short thought on the nature of poetry* brought on by reading northrop frye )

*the term 'poet' is used, in frye and here, to mean any writer of fiction; 'poetry' is literature; a 'poem' is a work of literature. you notice we have no particular, handy word for that.

<3

pursuant to wax_jism's idea that tim<3gary=rosencrantz<3guildenstern=sirius<3remus (i.e., that tim roth ought to be remus, if gary is sirius), i tried to cut and paste two youngish pictures of them together. the lighting is wrong: it didn't work out too well. but. here it is.

a lot of gary oldman icons

i posted these yesterday in rosnguil, and tomorrow i'm going to post them in iconsensual... or the day after. the point is, if you want one and you don't want to share, let me know and i'll take it down; once they're in iconsensual, they become sharing-mandatory.

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oh, so, i had a dream last night.

with mom and dad i was in a vacation town strolling around an historic downtown district--some unholy combination of hot springs, arkansas, ste. genevieve, missouri, and one of those western ghost towns from colorado.

and i was dithering back and ran into david bowie. 'oh!' i said. 'you're david bowie!' i got some kind of charming polite response. 'i watched basquiat recently,' i said. 'i thought that was really fascinating. your portrayal of andy warhol was just brilliant.' something something, i said i was very interested in it. he said he hadn't thought about it for a long time, and he was interested too. he spoke with a sort of british version of his warhol accent (i don't listen to his music very much, only when daddy plays it; god knows what he really sounds like). i said, 'you know, my mother's an art teacher, and she really likes warhol. she really enjoyed the movie too. the end was sad though.' something about him dying.

so i called mom back and we had a long and really fascinating conversation which i can't remember now, and i was really pleased, and oddly enough, not at all sexually attracted to him... okay, maybe it's not odd; he is quite old, older than my parents, i think.

and when i woke up, i was thinking, dammit, WHY didn't i ask him what he thought of the lack of boytouching in the movie?!

(no subject)

perrin: i want to read a book and watch cim read.
me: it could be hard to read *and* watch me do something at the same time, and it could be *really* hard because i'm not reading anything.
p: i want to read and watch cim drink her teeeeeeea and read.
me: oh, well that's a problem because i'm not drinking any tea. i finished my tea.
[pause while p thinks]
p: talk about what cim is going to do.
me: i thought i'd just hang out in here for a while, and then when taumas gets home we're going to watch a movie.
p: [thinks] i want to watch cim make a cim out of broccoli.
me: but we don't have any broccoli. so i can't make a cim out of it.
p: *i* want to make a cim out of broccoli.
me: but you can't, roo, because you don't have any br--
p: i DO have broccoli!
me: oh, okay. where?
p: i have broccoli in the cooler! [presents duplo bucket]

um

i'm really--really *joyous*. k'sal's written me the most wonderful little thing--she's got a migraine, but she's writing prolifically and--feels really good. i can't explain how happy i am. i read her email breathlessly. she said some really useful things about the singin in the rain story. i can't wait for her real feedback.

i feel like *dancing.*