November 27th, 2006


My day goes poorly when it starts off badly

I had one of those typical stress dreams: mine, I was at opening night for the Seattle Gilbert and Sullivan society's new show, and of course I didn't know any of the songs or the moves, so I was just chasing people around on stage, trying to look like I was singing, and feeling really embarassed. At the end of it all someone chewed me out for wearing a not-period-appropriate necklace. As the alarm went off, I was folding a silk handkerchief that had a picture of Ladmo in the middle of it ... very strange. I also dreamed about my sister, inanna, and a black and white spotted guinea pig that needed a new home.

The movie last night wasn't so great, not that it was bad but it wasn't worth the hassle of leaving the house and forking over £8. Yakuza Graveyard was an interesting contrast with Pale Flower - same bad-boy, cool gangster-type (though this character seemed drawn more from the books of Mishima somehow), lots of gambling (but was more frenetic rather than cool and stylized), but much more kinetic - I was imagining Serpico or The French Connection - some 70s movie about cops gone bad. I guess I preferred the more cerebral coolness of Pale Flower. I wonder how people enjoyed Pan's Labrynth?

Tonight: RNB, and maybe Finish Making Turkey Pie and Soup.
Sea dragon

Another day at $howboat

"There's a high chance of failure but we should still shoot for it."

I'm sorry, did I miss the chance to smoke whatever you were passing around before that meeting?

Does anyone here even know what standard software development practices are supposed to be like, much less "best practices?" Sheesh.

The Yanks came tumbling down

Big excitement of the day: we're heading from the Pic to the District line at Earl's Court, and we've kind of gotten behind the crowd in general. We're walking toward the escalators. An elderly couple is a little bit ahead of us, with about two rollie suitcases each. Suddenly, as the flat metal starts to morph into stair steps, the woman, lower down, gets caught up in her suitcases and starts to fall over. Her husband turns to help her, and of course HE then starts falling, and OMIGOD it's like a bad Disney cartoon or a dream where you just keep falling down the steps over and over

only I drop my bag and book and run forward up the stairs and grab the woman as she is spinning around and catch her and keep her from falling any more

and Jason, behind me, rushes to the edge and pushes the button

and the stairs stop and the people are almost upside down and there is luggage all over the place and I'm holding on to an oldish American woman who's scared and startled and getting her readjusted so she's not falling onto me any more

but she seems to be okay. Two other people run up past me to the old man and check in on him (apparently he got a bit of a gouge). My lady sits up and tells me she's been travelling since 10 AM and she's very tired and the luggage just started slipping. I help her get upright. She's fine. Jason (now carrying my stuff) gets a little further ahead to help the man with his heaviest bag; I hold onto the woman's elbow and walk her up the now-stopped escalator. The man turns and looks at us and says,

"Can you get this thing to start again?"

No, I tell him, we all have to walk now, but it's not that far to go. All the people are now helping them up the stairs with their stuff, checking in on them, assuming (incorrectly) we're with them because we're also American. I tell the woman it's better to walk now because she won't lose her balance, but that she'll be fine when she gets to the hotel, and that she should go right to bed. Nobody is pushing or being impatient, everyone is helpful. The old couple is alright.

Ballet was also good, great value at £7.50 considering that the first one (Chroma) blew my mind away (like best ballet in about three years), the second had Carlos Acosta *swoon* and the third had music by Michael Nyman.

It's late. I'm worried that I'll wind up not finishing any books this month because I've been caught up in Remembrance of Things Past, so now I'm trying to finish up some short stories by Connie Willis and feeling a bit embarassed at the fact I'm not savoring them as if they were a box of chocolates. Remembrance is more like a meal, the kind you get served over three days. I did manage a few more pages tonight but I feel like I'm shorting Connie. Oh well, Proust will probably be keeping me company until spring at this rate. And I'm still kind of cooking on adrenaline.