Despite Twilight-Zone Episodes

Right in my own backyard (as it were): this Moving Off Zero, aka my Daddy's blog, makes me happy.

Other happiness includes:

Dinner with Jills who is amazing at life and helps rewrite the bits of KOF that don't work.

Visiting other friends on Saturday.

Will in the World, the latest biography on Shakespeare, which I'm simply devouring.

NEW CLOTHES!!! (It's so curious - and more about this at another time, hopefully not a school-night, but it's taken me forever to even contemplate the "girly" side of things [for lack of a better term]. Part of that, I decided today, was that such...aherm...maintenance, simply requires too much time in idleness - waiting for masks to dry, waiting for polish to dry, waiting for wax to dry, etc. etc. - that I simply could spend better elsewhere and when. But today I took the luxury of - after doing all the work that needed immediate doing - being...well, being pink.)

While You Were Sleeping - Bill Pullman...where are you? (Or for that matter, Florence!?)

Dad making porkchops AND a spicecake...the latter in the form of Edoras. :)

Three day weekends.

Long talks with Mother. Sorting out life.

Beating the pants off Peter at Pathfinder. I am the queen of labyrinth building! Bow to me, mere mortals! Mwahahhahahahhah.

Seeing In Good Company - great movie, and just what was required after that particular carride. Go Topher Grace.

Right, so what is it that makes men simply more compelling figures in the theatre than women? Jules and I were talking about this the other day (which conjured up all sorts of tangent thoughts in my brain of Elizabethan England), but if pressed to name our favorite actor (in the non-gender specific original context of the word) we would immediately name several male actors. For myself, I'd rattle off Sam West, Ralph Fiennes, Christopher Guest, etc. But if then asked who my favorite female actors are, I'd be hard pressed. Jules came up with Catherine Zeta-Jones. I can agree with that - and add Helen Mirren. And from thence several notable actresses, particularly of the Twelve British Actors of England. But even so, they are admirable actresses, but not the titans that the male actors I admire are. Curioser and curioser. I don't think it can be merely a result of our relative complimentarian parts, or in the relative roles available to each - rather I think there must be a greater spiritual mystery, something having to do with the full embodiment of humanity within the striding male figure unabashedly part of something soulful. There is the remembance of the incarnation there.

A quick, not sadness but regret: seeing that the memory of things are rarely as great as the fact. And there is sadness to surpass the master.

I suppose that's it for now. I'm sure there's more - I know there's more - there's quite a lot that I meant to meaningfully blog about. There's quite a lot that is always meant to be done - I am percolating a story in my mind that I hope to jot down tomorrow - images from recent life, at once beautiful and unbearably sad, is the story's basis - and I've no idea where it's headed but I know how it begins. I trust I make myself obscure.

Anywho, bon nuit, Emily of an older age! This little one is to sleep. (And miles to go....)

Mood: My face has been charcoaled. Curious, that.
Music: Has been The Incredibles for the past two days. Yum!
Thought: My father: A Hardy Poet Laureate