Back in the limestone city
Jan. 6th, 2004 01:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaalaSo I'm back. Storm threats, illness, and laziness effected an arrival after my first class of the term. I have a "new" laptop (Dad's old one), so my focus for the next week will be on readying it for use and converting my current one for my sister. I also need to find another class to fill out my schedule.
There were no journal entries about New Year's Eve because I didn't do anything particularly special for the occasion. I had seriously considered attending Midnight Mass at St. Michael's (owing to my interest in religion and all and my limited experience with the Roman rite) but decided in the end that it would be well nigh impossible to find a safe ride back home. No one invited me to a party, there were no concerts I could afford, and I generally hate bars/clubs (especially when I'm alone) so... hold your breath here... I stayed home and watched television.
The Producers (movie) DVD was viewed with the parental units (neither of whom seemed to find it nearly so funny as me). Watched the customary CBC countdown at midnight, saw Michael Therriault and Sean Cullen sing "Auld Lang Syne" on Citytv, in harmony. ("He sings like a choir boy!" said Mum of Mr. Therriault.) Finished watching a Just For Laughs TV special hosted by same Sean Cullen ("It's Sean Cullen: Everywhere!") then flipped over to see The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert for the first time. His dancing may not have been quite so good as Guy Pearce's, but Hugo Weaving looked great in a dress. And that was my New Year's Eve.
New Year's Eve day wasn't a complete loss, however. I had lunch with my beloved high school Special Ed. teacher Mrs. P, which was delightful as always if slightly embarrassing whenever she would insist on complimenting me on my successes. She had seen The Producers (the musical, Toronto production) the previous night, so a breathless conversation on that topic was in order as well. She gave me her program; I've probably read at least half of the words in it[1].
I forgot to mention one particularly interesting development at the traditional family "Boxing Day" (actually December 28 this year) party. My great-uncle Charlie was presented with a surprise gift: his newly rediscovered Red Ryder BB air rifle. Yes, almost exactly like in the movie. The "bullets" have long since been lost, but the air still made an impressive noise when it was shot. I normally disapprove of toy guns in a big way, but this was too fascinating an historical artifact to resist.
If I had to summarize my activities during the holiday in one word, it would be "movies." Seen in theatres: Big Fish, In America, and LOTR: The Return of the King (of course). Right from the beginning, I decided that I would do my best not to be cynical while watching LOTR, and in that mood I found it very affecting. (My companions, Dad and Deirdre, were not so enthralled.) I watched most of it standing in the entranceway to the theatre--the only place where I could see the entire screen and yet not hear the high-pitched and high decibel emissions of two idiots who giggled at abso-f---ing-lutely everything in the movie. At first, I was annoyed but my position allowed me to really get emotionally involved with the movie because I could tremble, wince, gnaw on my fingers, whimper, weep, and so on without attracting the attention of anybody but those rushing to the bathroom.
I am worried about Mum. She's been coughing since November, first with one respiratory illness then another. There's not much more to say except I'm worried. And now my throat hurts; that doesn't bode well for the opera performance in two and a half weeks.
[1] Yes, I can't stop thinking about The Producers. Mel is master of the soundbite and given to overstatement, but this (eee! more performance clips!) is encouraging, this even more so. (Is it somehow possible to save Real files? Anyone?) I keep telling myself not to build it up too much because I'll inevitably be disappointed, but I can't help myself. I also keep telling myself not to spoil the show by knowing too much about it, but I memorized the songs from the cast recording long ago, I soak up all the hype and publicity, I can list the names of all the primary actors and give the performance history of several of them, and I startle even people who've seen it with my knowledge of the jokes. (NB: Is Cady Huffman this tall?) When I see the show in February, I'll probably pass out cold from excitement when I see my (row A!) seat and miss the first act. That, or I'll scream and/or cry like a [your-country-here] Idol teenybopper.
On a more practical note: why oh why didn't I ask Michael Therriault for his autograph when I walked right by him on the street in Stratford two summers ago? *g* He's obviously really sweet... although I suspect (as I suspected at the time) that it might have embarrassed him to death. I saw Sean in the subway once several years ago--for quite some time, maybe ten or fifteen minutes--but I didn't want to disturb him on what looked like a date. (A couple years later, I saw his live solo act, but there were hordes of fans about so I didn't even look into the matter.) I am way too polite for a rabid fan...
Right. Sleep.
There were no journal entries about New Year's Eve because I didn't do anything particularly special for the occasion. I had seriously considered attending Midnight Mass at St. Michael's (owing to my interest in religion and all and my limited experience with the Roman rite) but decided in the end that it would be well nigh impossible to find a safe ride back home. No one invited me to a party, there were no concerts I could afford, and I generally hate bars/clubs (especially when I'm alone) so... hold your breath here... I stayed home and watched television.
The Producers (movie) DVD was viewed with the parental units (neither of whom seemed to find it nearly so funny as me). Watched the customary CBC countdown at midnight, saw Michael Therriault and Sean Cullen sing "Auld Lang Syne" on Citytv, in harmony. ("He sings like a choir boy!" said Mum of Mr. Therriault.) Finished watching a Just For Laughs TV special hosted by same Sean Cullen ("It's Sean Cullen: Everywhere!") then flipped over to see The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert for the first time. His dancing may not have been quite so good as Guy Pearce's, but Hugo Weaving looked great in a dress. And that was my New Year's Eve.
New Year's Eve day wasn't a complete loss, however. I had lunch with my beloved high school Special Ed. teacher Mrs. P, which was delightful as always if slightly embarrassing whenever she would insist on complimenting me on my successes. She had seen The Producers (the musical, Toronto production) the previous night, so a breathless conversation on that topic was in order as well. She gave me her program; I've probably read at least half of the words in it[1].
I forgot to mention one particularly interesting development at the traditional family "Boxing Day" (actually December 28 this year) party. My great-uncle Charlie was presented with a surprise gift: his newly rediscovered Red Ryder BB air rifle. Yes, almost exactly like in the movie. The "bullets" have long since been lost, but the air still made an impressive noise when it was shot. I normally disapprove of toy guns in a big way, but this was too fascinating an historical artifact to resist.
If I had to summarize my activities during the holiday in one word, it would be "movies." Seen in theatres: Big Fish, In America, and LOTR: The Return of the King (of course). Right from the beginning, I decided that I would do my best not to be cynical while watching LOTR, and in that mood I found it very affecting. (My companions, Dad and Deirdre, were not so enthralled.) I watched most of it standing in the entranceway to the theatre--the only place where I could see the entire screen and yet not hear the high-pitched and high decibel emissions of two idiots who giggled at abso-f---ing-lutely everything in the movie. At first, I was annoyed but my position allowed me to really get emotionally involved with the movie because I could tremble, wince, gnaw on my fingers, whimper, weep, and so on without attracting the attention of anybody but those rushing to the bathroom.
I am worried about Mum. She's been coughing since November, first with one respiratory illness then another. There's not much more to say except I'm worried. And now my throat hurts; that doesn't bode well for the opera performance in two and a half weeks.
[1] Yes, I can't stop thinking about The Producers. Mel is master of the soundbite and given to overstatement, but this (eee! more performance clips!) is encouraging, this even more so. (Is it somehow possible to save Real files? Anyone?) I keep telling myself not to build it up too much because I'll inevitably be disappointed, but I can't help myself. I also keep telling myself not to spoil the show by knowing too much about it, but I memorized the songs from the cast recording long ago, I soak up all the hype and publicity, I can list the names of all the primary actors and give the performance history of several of them, and I startle even people who've seen it with my knowledge of the jokes. (NB: Is Cady Huffman this tall?) When I see the show in February, I'll probably pass out cold from excitement when I see my (row A!) seat and miss the first act. That, or I'll scream and/or cry like a [your-country-here] Idol teenybopper.
On a more practical note: why oh why didn't I ask Michael Therriault for his autograph when I walked right by him on the street in Stratford two summers ago? *g* He's obviously really sweet... although I suspect (as I suspected at the time) that it might have embarrassed him to death. I saw Sean in the subway once several years ago--for quite some time, maybe ten or fifteen minutes--but I didn't want to disturb him on what looked like a date. (A couple years later, I saw his live solo act, but there were hordes of fans about so I didn't even look into the matter.) I am way too polite for a rabid fan...
Right. Sleep.
