Found a place to call your own and a reason to stay there
Rabbit, rabbit! Man, June went faster than I thought.
Yesterday I spent the early afternoon with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gaudior and Fox at Wilson Farm's 32nd Annual Strawberry Festival, where we sampled strawberry shortcake, strawberry milk, strawberry soup, strawberry relish, and a skewer of chocolate-dipped strawberries, none of which prevented Fox from absolutely going to town on a box of plain fresh-picked strawberries on the way home. He had had his face painted like a blue lion at the festival and looked innocently predatory, splashed with the gore of his prey. We got out of the parking lot just as the monsoons began. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with selkie and Rami and my godchild and an assortment of other queer parents and their children all hanging out in a turn-of-the-twentieth-century house in Arlington; there was pizza. Time did not actually melt like projector-stuck film now that Selkie and I have seen one another three times in a six-month interval, which bodes well for future interaction. I came home and spatch showed me Bugsy Malone (1976) because it was about to expire from Criterion and all I have to say right now is that the '70's were an amazing time in filmmaking.
Tonight I just finished eating the salad I have been desperately jonesing for all day—I'd previously eaten the last nectarine, all the artichoke hearts left in the refrigerator and half the jar of red peppers, and a fistful of dried kiwis, otherwise known as damn near all the fruits and vegetables we had in the house. (It was a narrow escape for the canned peaches.) Fortunately, Mortadella Head came to my rescue. Their Italian Cobb salad was exactly what I wanted, especially in this heat, and I am pleased to note that the totally-eat-something-bigger-than-your-head aesthetic so in evidence in their slices of pizza extends to their subs and salads as well. Rob ate perhaps three-quarters of his meatball sub and that was like two sandwiches for most people.
Tomorrow I will be attending this protest against ICE and the concentration camps which I do not want to call ours, but which are in my country, so it is my responsibility to do something about them. I hope it's a crowd.
Yesterday I spent the early afternoon with
gaudior and Fox at Wilson Farm's 32nd Annual Strawberry Festival, where we sampled strawberry shortcake, strawberry milk, strawberry soup, strawberry relish, and a skewer of chocolate-dipped strawberries, none of which prevented Fox from absolutely going to town on a box of plain fresh-picked strawberries on the way home. He had had his face painted like a blue lion at the festival and looked innocently predatory, splashed with the gore of his prey. We got out of the parking lot just as the monsoons began. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with selkie and Rami and my godchild and an assortment of other queer parents and their children all hanging out in a turn-of-the-twentieth-century house in Arlington; there was pizza. Time did not actually melt like projector-stuck film now that Selkie and I have seen one another three times in a six-month interval, which bodes well for future interaction. I came home and spatch showed me Bugsy Malone (1976) because it was about to expire from Criterion and all I have to say right now is that the '70's were an amazing time in filmmaking.Tonight I just finished eating the salad I have been desperately jonesing for all day—I'd previously eaten the last nectarine, all the artichoke hearts left in the refrigerator and half the jar of red peppers, and a fistful of dried kiwis, otherwise known as damn near all the fruits and vegetables we had in the house. (It was a narrow escape for the canned peaches.) Fortunately, Mortadella Head came to my rescue. Their Italian Cobb salad was exactly what I wanted, especially in this heat, and I am pleased to note that the totally-eat-something-bigger-than-your-head aesthetic so in evidence in their slices of pizza extends to their subs and salads as well. Rob ate perhaps three-quarters of his meatball sub and that was like two sandwiches for most people.
Tomorrow I will be attending this protest against ICE and the concentration camps which I do not want to call ours, but which are in my country, so it is my responsibility to do something about them. I hope it's a crowd.
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I miss you, and I really could get behind this version of the timeline where you are a regular in my kid’s life. Also they grew quarter of an inch since you saw them last. As in yesterday.
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They're sliced and dried and disquietingly green! But they taste quite good, even if they weren't as assuaging as fresh kiwis would have been. My father brought them back from Greece.
I miss you, and I really could get behind this version of the timeline where you are a regular in my kid’s life.
I really enjoy it. I have my fingers crossed for job openings closer than eight damn hours away.
Also they grew quarter of an inch since you saw them last. As in yesterday.
I'm not even surprised! I thought they were longer since the last time I lifted them!
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I will be doing my best. However ineffective I feel right now, I know I would be less effective arrested. Also probably in a lot more pain.
(. . . but I've literally had "Daloy Politsey" stuck in my head for days now . . .)
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Honestly, I really enjoyed it. It would have died in a fire of twee if it once winked at the audience, but it really doesn't until the finale when it collapses into a bunch of kids having a pie fight and then that's such a weirdly appropriate ending you don't complain. Jodie Foster's great in it. (I'm not sure there needed to be quite so much Paul Williams on the soundtrack, though.)
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I loved that Bugsy says they need an army to get the splurge guns, and Leroy commiserates that there's "no armies around here," and then right on cue we get the Bonus Army. Aged on-average twelve, like everyone else in the film.
Also I just fell down a rabbit hole by looking up the child actor who played the small but memorable role of Baby Face ("Get Baby Face. I'm Baby Face. What am I saying?!") and it turns out he's Dexter Fletcher and he just directed Rocketman (2019). He was also in Caravaggio (1986). I'm delighted.
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I also intend to be at that protest tomorrow, degree of lateness dependent on what time my last meeting ends at work.
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I enjoyed so much of the rest of it that I forcibly tuned out the vocal lines of the musical numbers. I suspect it helped that none of them were the greatest things Paul Williams ever penned.
(I share your initial shock, however:
I also intend to be at that protest tomorrow, degree of lateness dependent on what time my last meeting ends at work.
I'll look for you! An unsurprisingly large contingent of A Besere Velt appears to be attending.
Minor demon replies:
That's a far cry from the days when I was newly-damned, my wings burning to ash as I fell...
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Or: Probably not, but I'm really tempted even if it makes no sense.
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If you improbably make it, shout until you find me, and otherwise protest well in Central Falls!
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It was a lot of fun! I had gone often as a child, but not at all recently, and the only thing I missed was the yearly attempt to break the world record for largest strawberry shortcake, which had either happened the previous day or was called on account of weather.
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Thank you for letting me know about it, whether I end up managing it or not.
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You're welcome. Let me know what you manage!
(Love, please do not throw up!)
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I certainly enjoyed it. The only thing that didn't work for me was the dubbing of the songs and otherwise it was exactly the sort of weird straight-faced transcendent pastiche that I have no idea how the writer-director actually secured funding for, but I'm very glad he did.
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Nine
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I know some were taken!
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Hey, where should I donate?
Nine
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Thank you!
Hey, where should I donate?
Movimiento Cosecha was one of the organizers of today's event.
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We used to pick them every summer in Maine for the Fourth of July strawberry ice cream. I just got word that my niece and her mother went strawberry-picking this morning, continuing the tradition.
Also, dried kiwis?!
Are they really that unusual? I'd never had them before, but I didn't assume that was statistically significant. I eat dried apricots and dates and other fruits all the time.
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Thank you.
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I'd never seen it before!
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I love Bugsy Malone, and have since I first saw it at about the age of the actors in it. I was never impressed with the songs, because I had strong opinions about adults thinking they could do better than kids at certain things, and later because the songs just aren't very good. Nonetheless, the rest of it's a delight.
I see many people are boggled over dried kiwi in your comments. I guess because they're dried, I didn't realize they'd be such an unusual thing. You see them regularly in grocery stores in California and Florida, though I prefer fresh, if I'm in the shape to actually take the skin off and cut it up.
Good luck at the protest. I hope it's a crowd too.
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That sounds like an excellent fate for strawberries. What do you do with them on bagels? Just slice and layer on top of cream cheese?
I was never impressed with the songs, because I had strong opinions about adults thinking they could do better than kids at certain things, and later because the songs just aren't very good. Nonetheless, the rest of it's a delight.
Those were about my feelings: even with that score, I'd have been a lot more interested to hear Jodie Foster sing. (Plus my childhood included Oliver! (1968), Annie (1982), and Newsies (1992)—I'm used to child actors doing their own songs!) But I still had a great, slightly stunned time.
You see them regularly in grocery stores in California and Florida, though I prefer fresh, if I'm in the shape to actually take the skin off and cut it up.
I prefer fresh fruit also—and especially lately, when I seem to be having fruit and vegetable cravings like I'm in danger of scurvy—but I am finding the dried kiwis delightful. They have a nice texture as well as taste.
Good luck at the protest. I hope it's a crowd too.
Thank you! It was about a thousand protesters!
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The estimate was a thousand and we stopped traffic. I don't think it will be enough on its own, but I hope it was not ineffective, and I'll be there for the next one.
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something like that.
And all those glorious strawberry creations--plus the fresh strawberries--sound wonderful.
Thank you for going to the protest tonight--oh wait, it's tomorrow? Then tomorrow!
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It was a tasty miscellany! I will have to sacrifice more artichoke hearts to my insatisable appetite.
(Your artichoke-devouring villain voice is great.)
And all those glorious strawberry creations--plus the fresh strawberries--sound wonderful.
It's not that I forget that you can make cold sweet soups out of fruit, but I never think of doing it myself. I think I might have to change that. The strawberry milk I could take or leave, but the soup had chunks of strawberry in it.
Thank you for going to the protest tonight--oh wait, it's tomorrow? Then tomorrow!
By now, it was tonight!
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It was deeply adorable.