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someday we will see
Jan. 6th, 2006 05:19 pmNew Year’s Eve at Kirsten and Industrial Steve’s, I felt pretty damn fabulous in a sparkly blue toga, Steve outdid me in silver lame but hey as that’s his prerogative as host-god. Drinkin drinkin drinkin, party party party, and eventually people give in to karaoke. Voodoodollie’s got a really good voice, the kind of voice makes you look at her and go “Damn girl, you can really sing.” And the night and the drinking and the singing goes on, you’d be surprised at the number of people who are willing, nay, enthused, nay, demanding to do Take On Me. Counterintuitive, we know, but there it is. The beginning of the chorus starts out low and fine, the progression from middle to upper range gets real touchy, and then that last falsetto syllable strikes and, with everyone in the room really going for it, sounds like a freakin fire alarm is going off. It’s awesome, we’re all channeling Tinnitus, the Greek god of Karaoke.
So that was New Year’s, and now we’re in this first fractional arc-second of this new orbit, and sometimes it feels like my flesh and skin and muscle are drawn tight over a moving frame.
Ceremony on Monday, and DJ Chris played the request I brought in for him, Iron & Wine “Woman King”. Sounds a bit absurd at first, playing a folk band like that at a gothindustrial club (”hey Death In June are pretty much a folk band…” Shut up, you know what I mean.) but that song, I’ve been obsessing over it for weeks, it’s so incredible, it canters and rolls along with an infectious clattering rhythm, and the guys voice, as always, raspy smooth and ever so barely ominous. Made my night, gosh darn it.
Duh…Tuesday watched the Sin City Extendo Recut Director Special edition with Kristen. Girl has two cats and, inexplicably, one insisted on curling up on me and purring through the whole damn movie. Cats. Damnable things.
Wednesday did my best to cheer up Tegin Of The Sick Bunny with dinner (salad dressed with shallot oil and balsamic and crumbly stilton, garlicky bread, lobster-scallop ravioli with shallot-alfredo sauce) and beers and my roomate’s copy of Dead Alive. And I noticed a name in the opening credits: Frances Walsh. Yeah, that same woman who’s in every interview in the Lord Of The Rings DVD set, she’s been with Peter Jackson this whole time. Which I think is almost more amazing than the cinematic force that is Peter Jackon himself…I mean…it’s one thing to be the craziest most passionate filmmaking motherfucker on the planet, able to put yourself in the vomit-drinking scene of your alien zombie movie and somehow still have a career, not just any career but eventually the opportunity to pull off the god damned Lord Of The Rings…yeah ok I can believe that. Sometimes one human being is possessed of such hypnotic, reality-bending passion that they can go from Meet The Feebles to King Kong. But the fact that there was this one woman who went along with him for the whole ride…my god. What kinda person hears the setup for the Lawnmower Scene and says to herself “Yeah this sounds like the guy I want to hitch my wagon to for the long term.” Jeezus.
Climbing with Couplingchaos last night, I led three routes, more than I’ve ever done in one night. Yeah I totally cheated on one, but there was no way I could have done anything else that way I’d set myself up; next time I know how to do the approach and I won’t cheat I swear. I really want to try some of the routes on the high arch on the front wall of the gym, they’re all rated way more than I can do but I so want to try leading a cave problem…the fact that if you lose it there you’re falling backwards away from the wall…that’s gotta be real special. But the coolest thing was I actually solved the V2 bouldering problem that kicked my ass so badly when I went with Whittles. The last half of it you have to get on this big beetle-shaped jug that rounds out of the wall and there’s barely anywhere to indent your fingers and grip around, the thing’s just a big hemisphere that blisters out, but I think the secret is if I get on top of it real close and hug it to my chest like a football, I can stay on long enough to shift feet to the angled ledge and grab up for the hold waaaaaaay up and over to the left. Whew. Fuckin awesome.
So that was New Year’s, and now we’re in this first fractional arc-second of this new orbit, and sometimes it feels like my flesh and skin and muscle are drawn tight over a moving frame.
Ceremony on Monday, and DJ Chris played the request I brought in for him, Iron & Wine “Woman King”. Sounds a bit absurd at first, playing a folk band like that at a gothindustrial club (”hey Death In June are pretty much a folk band…” Shut up, you know what I mean.) but that song, I’ve been obsessing over it for weeks, it’s so incredible, it canters and rolls along with an infectious clattering rhythm, and the guys voice, as always, raspy smooth and ever so barely ominous. Made my night, gosh darn it.
Duh…Tuesday watched the Sin City Extendo Recut Director Special edition with Kristen. Girl has two cats and, inexplicably, one insisted on curling up on me and purring through the whole damn movie. Cats. Damnable things.
Wednesday did my best to cheer up Tegin Of The Sick Bunny with dinner (salad dressed with shallot oil and balsamic and crumbly stilton, garlicky bread, lobster-scallop ravioli with shallot-alfredo sauce) and beers and my roomate’s copy of Dead Alive. And I noticed a name in the opening credits: Frances Walsh. Yeah, that same woman who’s in every interview in the Lord Of The Rings DVD set, she’s been with Peter Jackson this whole time. Which I think is almost more amazing than the cinematic force that is Peter Jackon himself…I mean…it’s one thing to be the craziest most passionate filmmaking motherfucker on the planet, able to put yourself in the vomit-drinking scene of your alien zombie movie and somehow still have a career, not just any career but eventually the opportunity to pull off the god damned Lord Of The Rings…yeah ok I can believe that. Sometimes one human being is possessed of such hypnotic, reality-bending passion that they can go from Meet The Feebles to King Kong. But the fact that there was this one woman who went along with him for the whole ride…my god. What kinda person hears the setup for the Lawnmower Scene and says to herself “Yeah this sounds like the guy I want to hitch my wagon to for the long term.” Jeezus.
Climbing with Couplingchaos last night, I led three routes, more than I’ve ever done in one night. Yeah I totally cheated on one, but there was no way I could have done anything else that way I’d set myself up; next time I know how to do the approach and I won’t cheat I swear. I really want to try some of the routes on the high arch on the front wall of the gym, they’re all rated way more than I can do but I so want to try leading a cave problem…the fact that if you lose it there you’re falling backwards away from the wall…that’s gotta be real special. But the coolest thing was I actually solved the V2 bouldering problem that kicked my ass so badly when I went with Whittles. The last half of it you have to get on this big beetle-shaped jug that rounds out of the wall and there’s barely anywhere to indent your fingers and grip around, the thing’s just a big hemisphere that blisters out, but I think the secret is if I get on top of it real close and hug it to my chest like a football, I can stay on long enough to shift feet to the angled ledge and grab up for the hold waaaaaaay up and over to the left. Whew. Fuckin awesome.
