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Life is nothing but show business in 1994
Tonight is a blue moon: I saw it rising between ninety-year-old roofs in Belmont, copper-pink against the powdery evening sky. I had just finished helping my brother carry a structurally unsound desk down a steep, short, skinny flight of stairs, after which it was junked with not all that extreme, but justifiable prejudice on the curb. He and his wife are moving. Because the world is tiny, they are effectively moving a few blocks away from other people I am connected to: I wasn't really surprised. Tomorrow, I carry more stuff.
Yesterday was quiet. I slept late. In the late afternoon,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel and I reconstructed our chipotle-pulled pork, sausage, and mushroom pizza at Sacco's Bowl Haven & Flatbread and then explored the West Somerville Branch Library, because I was still feeling bitter from Sunday's realization that the Minuteman libraries would be no no good to me on the weekends until the school year started again. They have lovely dark-paneled architecture and a great children's room: I came home with a haul of John Bellairs, most of which I re-read last night. The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn (1978) must be the only non-supernatural mystery he ever wrote. (It's not illustrated by Edward Gorey, either.) I had remembered The Eyes of the Killer Robot (1986) as one of the first instances where I was able to use mythology to predict a modern plot twist; it would serve me equally well in Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun. The face full of cobwebs in The Lamp from the Warlock's Tomb (1988) is still pretty freaky.
And Wednesday wasrushthatspeaks' birthday, which was very sensibly subtitled "From the Sublime to the What Is This Even," because its invitees met at the Brattle Theatre for a showing of the long-lost color print of Georges Méliès' Le Voyage dans la lune (1902) along with a documentary about its discovery and restoration, repaired to the house for vegetarian char siu bao afterward, and then Rush showed us The Apple (1980). I would really like to be able to claim that it took me until now to post anything because my brain shut down in self-defense after the musical number with the vaudeville ballet in the office lobby, but the tragic persistence in my head of lines like "It's a natural, natural, natural desire / To meet an actual, actual, actual vampire" or "These are the children of the Sixties, commonly known as hippies" argues otherwise. It is not a good movie. You don't watch it expecting that it will be. I love Vladek Sheybal.
I am going to watch The Daily Show, read some more Bellairs, and go to sleep. The other thing that happens tomorrow is an all-night pre-Code marathon at the Harvard Film Archive. Rush found it on the calendar. I may be a wreck by Sunday, but yes, please.
Yesterday was quiet. I slept late. In the late afternoon,
derspatchel and I reconstructed our chipotle-pulled pork, sausage, and mushroom pizza at Sacco's Bowl Haven & Flatbread and then explored the West Somerville Branch Library, because I was still feeling bitter from Sunday's realization that the Minuteman libraries would be no no good to me on the weekends until the school year started again. They have lovely dark-paneled architecture and a great children's room: I came home with a haul of John Bellairs, most of which I re-read last night. The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn (1978) must be the only non-supernatural mystery he ever wrote. (It's not illustrated by Edward Gorey, either.) I had remembered The Eyes of the Killer Robot (1986) as one of the first instances where I was able to use mythology to predict a modern plot twist; it would serve me equally well in Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun. The face full of cobwebs in The Lamp from the Warlock's Tomb (1988) is still pretty freaky.And Wednesday was
rushthatspeaks' birthday, which was very sensibly subtitled "From the Sublime to the What Is This Even," because its invitees met at the Brattle Theatre for a showing of the long-lost color print of Georges Méliès' Le Voyage dans la lune (1902) along with a documentary about its discovery and restoration, repaired to the house for vegetarian char siu bao afterward, and then Rush showed us The Apple (1980). I would really like to be able to claim that it took me until now to post anything because my brain shut down in self-defense after the musical number with the vaudeville ballet in the office lobby, but the tragic persistence in my head of lines like "It's a natural, natural, natural desire / To meet an actual, actual, actual vampire" or "These are the children of the Sixties, commonly known as hippies" argues otherwise. It is not a good movie. You don't watch it expecting that it will be. I love Vladek Sheybal.I am going to watch The Daily Show, read some more Bellairs, and go to sleep. The other thing that happens tomorrow is an all-night pre-Code marathon at the Harvard Film Archive. Rush found it on the calendar. I may be a wreck by Sunday, but yes, please.
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Oh, wow you folks live in an amazing part of the world.
Happy blue moon. The next one we get will be after a spacecraft has flown past Pluto.
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There are arthouse theaters here. They make me happy.
(The soundtrack was by Air, which I'm not sure about. But it was great to see.)
Happy blue moon. The next one we get will be after a spacecraft has flown past Pluto.
I like that as a way of measuring time.
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Wonderful. I wish you a happy blue moon, and the best of luck with the moving to your brother and his wife.
I'm glad for the quiet yesterday with sleeping included.
... "From the Sublime to the What Is This Even,"
Lovely. I'm delighted to hear of all of this.
Georges Méliès' Le Voyage dans la lune (1902)
Delightful. I'd love to see this. The fragments in Hugo were splendid. (Did I thank you for the recommending of that? I should have done, and I apologise if I failed to.)
The pre-Code marathon sounds delightful. I hope you enjoy it and that Saturday doesn't make a wreck of you.
ETA:
The Apple (1980)
This sounds as it it has perhaps the most fascinating take on the reign of the AntiChrist and the Mark of the Beast ever. If I ever force myself to read the Left Behind series, I will be very disappointed if the AntiChrist doesn't have his own record label and institute a mandatory hour of aerobics.
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Well. It has fewer hours of people talking on telephones. If you're into that sort of thing.
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Yay, Camberville.
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Are you coming?
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The moon was beautiful last night. Melted lamplight color, and made any scene beneath it unearthly.
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I didn't realize you'd seen it on my recommendation. I'm very glad you enjoyed it.
The pre-Code marathon sounds delightful. I hope you enjoy it and that Saturday doesn't make a wreck of you.
I could do without this stiff neck I've had since Wednesday. The sleeping ten hours was a pleasant surprise.
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I understand I can't compete with red wine.
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Hah. Thank you! I have very boring days as well . . .
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That doesn't sound too bad to me!
Melted lamplight color, and made any scene beneath it unearthly.
That's a lovely description.
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It was pretty good, in fact.
Thanks, re: description. We approach it with words, but we never even get close...
I'm proofing the next issue of Mythic Delirium right now. Loving again the old branch lines of hell and back / where the ghosts ride without a nickel to their names
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Thank you. I referred to it as "the sap poem" for weeks for a reason.
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What's a good introduction to John Bellairs?
Enjoy the marathon!
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I would start with either The House with a Clock in Its Walls (1973) or his only adult novel, The Face in the Frost (1969). They share similar strengths and a very fine mix of the absurdly funny and suddenly terrifying, although he'd gotten better at endings by the time he started writing YA. You should be able to tell if you like him after that.
Enjoy the marathon!
Thank you! I'm just about to head in the direction of public transit. There will be some kind of post, however sleep-deprived, when I return.
I looked it up and OH DEAR GOD.
YOU CAN'T SAY WE DIDN'T WARN YOU.
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I am a little saddened that in high school I didn't know anyone with glittering teeth. To be fair, I don't think anyone I knew was the serpent of Eden.
(At least, they never told me.)
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Due to lack of sleep, I just read that as 'I don't think anyone knew that I was the serpent of Eden.' which would explain why no one else in your school had that distinction, but it is not anything like what you wrote.
Oh, sleep deprivation, creating confusion out of normal context.
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Yeah, but your version is a lot more of a compliment!