Lord Sheringham luxuriates on his blanky and chooses the DVD to watch while I choose a recipe to make for News Years...

my folks, frolicking in the rare nanaimo snow

moooovies

The latest additions to my Gilby DVD Library. ...I rarely buy movies, so this is all a Big Deal for me.

A peek at the Gilby Paper Dolls I made.

He boxes and loves Muhammad Ali, so there's a boxing outfit (modeled off a robe he wore in a picture.)

And he loves Star Trek and Picard, so he has a captain suit.

He once sang Javert's "Stars" song from Les Miserables (he loves musicals) so I made a Javert suit.

He identifies with the Gail Wynand character in The Fountainhead, so I made Gail Wynand with Ayn Rand on his arm

And a Roman senator, because he's all about the Rome stuff.

Oh, and an old school work outfit, from when we met.

And for Star Wars, I thought a Lando outfit would be more original than a Jedi. Gilby and I love to say: "We've got to give him more time!"

This is what happens when you send your boyfriend/husband to the dog house.

http://bewareofthedoghouse.com/video.aspx

I do like that they spend all eternity folding laundry and matching socks.

teeveeees

Friend Gilby gave me the entire The Office, American version, on dvd for Christmas. (He's the only friend I exchange gifts with... he refuses to stop.) I've barely watched even one episode of the US one, so I have many hours of frolicks to look forward to. I'm going to save it. For, like, next time I'm sick. Or in a depression, or something.

He also gave me a special edition box set of Freaks and Geeks, but I already have the regular edition (also given to me by friends, before we stopped giving presents.) I'm going to exchange it for something else... wee! I like getting DVD gifts, cause I rarely buy them for myself. (As opposed to books and music, which are my biggest extravagance.)

movies

Tonight I've been working on Gilby's birthday-hanu-Christma-festivus present (which, by tradition, has to be creative or homemade on my part.) When I'm doing crafts I play movies I've seen before, so I don't have to watch closely. Tonight I watched the two versions of Miracle on 34th Street.

I agree with Connie Willis that this is a great Christmas movie (for the many reasons she enumerates.) I used to think the remake was pretty good, but watching them back to back, it does suffer. As Willis points out, almost everyone in the original (except Santa) makes decisions based on self-interest, and that's where much of the humour lies. The new version introduces more charitableness--sappiness, and is therefore not as clever.

Now I'm watching Clash of the Titans. I loved this movie so much as a child, it's what started my interest in Greek mythology (everyone goes through that phase, non?) and Andromeda and Cassiopea became my favourite names. I loved Medusa, she was like a feminist anti-hero. One of the coolest chick-baddies I'd ever seen.

Here is the Calibos action figure my brother had.


















Here is Medusa, created by master special effects dude of the time (my brother worshipped him) Ray Harryhausen.

Christmas in my parent's backyard...

The History of Me: In Winter, or Ode to My Super Nuclear Mittens

My childhood winter memories are all of me freezing outside. I didn't like tobogganing for more than 30 minutes and I have a vague memory of cross country skiing and hating it cause I was so coldy. I detested having to go outside for recess.

The greatest invention of all winter times were those little sachets you could put in your mittens and to warm your hands. They got me through those stupid winter field trips.

In high school I wore full winter regalia when everyone else wore running shoes and little else. (But my outfit was very cute. A long black military-cut coat, black rabbit mittens, and one those 80s hood hats (so elegant.) I was happy for the youth of today when I saw the fashion change to ski jackets and big boots.
Thinsulate was the next great invention. When my father bought me a pair of nylon shell thinsulate mittens, in Cegep, my life changed. I still own them. (I had a nice black pair but lost them because of Schoolz.) I called the material Super Nuclear.

Last winter I couldn't find my scarf to wear, so I grabbed one of Fernando's boring navy polar fleece scarves, and holy crap! I died from the heat! I ran out and bought myself a dalmation print polar fleece scarf for those -30 days.

The other outfit I only pull out for extreme cold--because otherwise it's so warm I die--is the giant fuzzy jogging suit my father bought me so I can be warm when writing. The Super Nuclear Jogging Suit. Even though it's only -16 today, I was so cold this evening I had to break it out. Ahhh... so toasties.

The Christmas Tree At Last!

This is my last weekend before The Big Week. My last chance to put up a Christmas tree. When I was in school I rarely put up a tree because it required too much Cleaning Up of the Home etc. so I was determined to have my little tree up this year. And I also sorted out all my many ornaments.

This is the nativity scene Delyriam gave me one year, from
10 000 Villages. With a disco ball in it.

This is Christmas in San Francisco 1906.
You can see the richest house is up on the top hill,
and it's right on a fault line. They'll be goners pretty soon.
I added the train because SF was built by the train barons.

My first ornaments were all bought very-reduced at fancy department stores and I quite like them. (Plus some dollar store additions.) But Fernando's foster mother used to make Victorian ornaments and he started buying them for me, in order to support her. So now we have zillions.

Here are some of the crafty types.

My miscellaneous ornaments (many from Delyriam who
would buy them for me at Christmas.)

My Olde Fasionedee ones, plus
the Rudolph ones inherited when Pablo moved away.

The red ornaments (most by Foster Mother.)

The burgundy ornaments (most by Foster Mother.)

The pink collection (most by Foster Mother.)

My plastic fruit - my Indian peeps and birds and elephants
(from 10 000 Villages) - and my toy soldiers.

And the usual balls.
Plus! my best find yet: The red wooden garland.

Every year I have to pick a Theme.
Last year I decorated my brother's tree with my ornaments
(since my place was too insane and messy and sad for a tree--schoolz!)
so I chose a Sober and Masculine theme.
With a flapper on top.

Here is the bare tree...

Decorated...
Lit up!
Ahh... so cozy.Here are the cats' dollar store stockings hung up.

Nombly

Bones

Haley

I think the ornaments I'm enjoying best this year...
My little Indian dudes (each one if from a different province)...

The monkey from Delyriam...

The little birds.

Of course every year I enjoy my Serious Looking Teddy Angel.
He looks like he's taken all the suffering of the world
upon his little velvet covered shoulders.

I also put up a wreath made by the Foster Mommy.

The Sock Threat

Haley and Nombly both have certain toys that they will take up in their mouths, and run around with, howling, as though they just killed it. And then they usually end by bringing it to me, especially Haley.

For Nombly it has to be a toy made of real fur, like a little fluff ball. (Yes, I am non vegan with my cats.)

But the first time I saw Haley do it, I thought she just had a passion for oatmeal--because she kept getting up to where the little oatmeal breakfast packets were, and then she'd run through the house and drop it in the room I was in.

Then it became mini Kleenex bags.

Then I bought some fuzzy toy that was just the right consistency--she hunts that a lot. I'll have to get a new one, the stuffing's coming out.

But she has a new prey. A pair of socks that Fernando had wrapped up in a red bag, and tied closed. It was on a shelf in the living room, and one day I saw her trying to carry it away, but it's so big she kept getting stuck. So I threw it on the floor, and she proceeded to stalk and hunt it for ten minutes. And now sometimes when I'm sitting in my bedroom writing, I hear her Wild Meow and next thing I know she's depositing the red sock bag in my room.

Good thing she's here to kill these menacing socks.

And that's the news for Jacques Cartier riding - yo

I only just looked up the election results for my riding today. I didn't vote in this provincial election--I'm not listed for this residence, and my energy to go out and get registered when I'm voting Liberal in a Liberal riding, well it was null. Coming so close on a federal election, and a 2007 provincial, voter turnout was the lowest since the 1920s.

Here's my riding:

1939-1985 inclusive - LIB

1989 - Equality Party

Since 1994 - LIB

1995 sovereignty referendum: No - 91.02 per cent; Yes - 8.98 per cent

Language breakdown: English: 55.3 per cent French: 27 per cent Other: 17.6 per cent (3.80 per cent Italian)

The Liberals (in my riding) got 80%, higher than last time.
The Greens actually beat the PQ with 7.5 ...kinda funny.
The lowest result was the Marxist-Leninist party--they got 87 votes (presumably all 18 years old.) They came canvassing door to door to get signatures just so they could qualify, so Fernando took signed it. He thought it was interesting to have a Marxist party running! He asked if I wanted to sign, but I had just woken up, so I said something rude in return. Which would translate into: They'll never win, so why do I have to get out of my bed! ;-) Fernando... clearly a better supporter of democracy than I.

The Liberals in Quebec won a few more seats in this election, but the PQ didn't exactly lose since they got back some of their seats from the ADQ, who got killed.

This is what happens when you stay up too late

You catch up on all the internet memes you missed. I'm not sure if the fact that I didn't know any of these, except Star Wars Kid and Dramatic Hamster, makes me uncool... or reassures me that I don't spend too much time on the interwebs.

And now I shall go to bed. Chocolate raaaain... hmm hmm la la dee de deee de de...

sleep... ya whatevah!

Man, my sleep schedule is all weirded out since Nanowrimo. It's 6:30 AM and I want to make a sandwich and settle into some writing... mehhhh! I don't wanna go to bed! (Sung to: I Don't Wanna Grow Up.) Meanwhile there are apartment lights on across the parking lot... presumably because these people are getting ready for work. Crikey! Maybe I'll make a sandwich... but read a book instead.



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Update at 7:20 AM - Well, I'm glad I stayed up. Gilby noticed I kept posting on facebook, so he called from the airport on his way out to his vacation.

Bosie your poetry is so gay!

Since I'm on the topic of gay guys. I recently read, for the first time, the poem written by Oscar Wilde's lover Bosie (the one whose idiot father got Wilde thrown in prison) where the sentence "the love that dare not speak its name" came from.

The first time I heard the expression "the love that dare not speaks its name" was from an erudite work friend. It's so pukey sounding, I just love it. But the actual poem is sort of -- sniff sniff -- sweet. I feel like my mother did the first time she saw the context for the song "When I'm calling yoooooooooooouuuuuu" because I was tearing through all the Jeanette McDonald and Nelson Eddy movies; and my mother was ashamed to find that the much-mocked song was actually touching within the context of the movie.

The poem is called "Two Loves." It's pretty bad--here's a typical line.

There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.

The narrator of the poem comes across two figures, one of whom is pretty jolly, the other looks haunted and depressed. The narrator asks the depressed one what his name is. He says: "Love." The jolly one gets all mad and says: "No I'M Love! He's some upstart running around in my garden." And the depressed one says: "(sniff sniff) Alright, I am the Love that dare not speak its name." Sniff sniff. A good ending to a crappy poem. ...But I still hate Bosie. (I hated him for being an asshole, but apparently he was a total anti-Semite too. Bleh!)

'Sweet youth,
Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.'
Then straight the first did turn himself to me
And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame,
But I am Love, and I was wont to be
Alone in this fair garden, till he came
Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.'
Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
I am the love that dare not speak its name.'

I can't top the other blogger's clever title

Noticed this good article linked to someone's blog--and their blog was cleverly titled "I kissed a guy and I didn't like it." I can't believe the shit Letterman is quoted as having said. Maybe it's time the old boy was put out to pasture. Sounds like James Franco is doing a good job, though--especially since the movie in question is about a gay rights activist, for heaven's sake. (I'm excited about seeing Milk--San Franciscoooo!)

I seem to remember when kd lang was asked what it was like to kiss Cindy Crawford (for Vanity Fair) she said something like: What do you think??

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In the relentless publicity interviews he's been doing for his new movie, "Milk," there's plenty to ask about his performance as the neglected lover of San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk, the gay rights martyr. So what does every interviewer -- from David Letterman to the Philippine Daily Inquirer to public radio's Terry Gross -- want to discuss most, over and over and over?

The kissing.

Wasn't it really difficult to kiss another man? Implied: Without throwing up, seeing as you're so obviously straight? What were you thinking as you kissed? Did you rehearse it? What was it liiiiiike?

Underlying the questions (and the answers) is this notion that a gay kissing scene must be the worst Hollywood job hazard that a male actor could face, including stunt work, extreme weather or sitting through five hours of special-effects makeup every day. We live comfortably, if strangely, in a pseudo-Sapphic era in which seemingly every college woman with a MySpace page has kissed another girl for the camera; but for men who kiss men, it's still the final frontier.

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Wow... a burning Christmas tree

We had riots over a police-shooting-youth incident this year too, but I guess Montrealers aren't as exciting as Athenians. (Or maybe it's just cause it wasn't Christmas yet.) A burning Christmas tree! I think I'll start amassing a Top 10 Nightmares Before Christmas list...

Meesa so tired of Harper

Shucks, looks like we're not gonna get our Star Wars senate nonconfidence moment after all. Sigh.