Get a hold of a world in your hands
Rabbit, rabbit!
We had plans to watch the new year rung in by![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
choco_frosh and others at Church of the Advent, but the weather was so bitter iron cold that we imitated the canceling of the polar bear plunge and stayed in with cats and the incendiary homemade rum balls which my brother's godparents send us every year (they are compounded of powdered sugar, walnuts, and the nearest thing to rocket fuel I have ever intentionally tasted in my life) and watched the original Ocean's 11 (1960) on TCM. There is a lot of candy-colored misogyny in the pre-heist portions of that movie, but I love the heist itself, Sammy Davis Jr. and Shirley MacLaine, I love Richard Conte's cat-footed Tony Bergdorf, "never the luck." We did not take FilmStruck's New Year's Eve suggestion of The Apartment (1960). This afternoon we headed out to my parents' for the traditional ham and fondue, followed by the traditional sacking out on couches. I am reading Chester Himes' Cotton Comes to Harlem (1965), a punchy, brutal, often darkly funny and head-spinning combination of hardboiled, caper, and blaxploitation fiction. There is just enough plum pudding left over from Christmas for me to have some for dessert.
I have been going around wishing people a kind year. So much of 2017 hurt in so many different ways, some of which I didn't see coming and some of which hurt just as much as I had feared. I do not think I can expect 2018 to be painless, but so far it has given me a bronze-blue winter sunset and a brilliant white supermoon in a branch-black sky, and I like both of these things.
If we have to fight, may we also help one another to heal.
We had plans to watch the new year rung in by
choco_frosh and others at Church of the Advent, but the weather was so bitter iron cold that we imitated the canceling of the polar bear plunge and stayed in with cats and the incendiary homemade rum balls which my brother's godparents send us every year (they are compounded of powdered sugar, walnuts, and the nearest thing to rocket fuel I have ever intentionally tasted in my life) and watched the original Ocean's 11 (1960) on TCM. There is a lot of candy-colored misogyny in the pre-heist portions of that movie, but I love the heist itself, Sammy Davis Jr. and Shirley MacLaine, I love Richard Conte's cat-footed Tony Bergdorf, "never the luck." We did not take FilmStruck's New Year's Eve suggestion of The Apartment (1960). This afternoon we headed out to my parents' for the traditional ham and fondue, followed by the traditional sacking out on couches. I am reading Chester Himes' Cotton Comes to Harlem (1965), a punchy, brutal, often darkly funny and head-spinning combination of hardboiled, caper, and blaxploitation fiction. There is just enough plum pudding left over from Christmas for me to have some for dessert.I have been going around wishing people a kind year. So much of 2017 hurt in so many different ways, some of which I didn't see coming and some of which hurt just as much as I had feared. I do not think I can expect 2018 to be painless, but so far it has given me a bronze-blue winter sunset and a brilliant white supermoon in a branch-black sky, and I like both of these things.
If we have to fight, may we also help one another to heal.
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I would enjoy that and we should definitely not freeze in the process.