I think Tom Bosley will be out there somewhere, waiting to give her a hug.
I think Tom Bosley will be out there somewhere, waiting to give her a hug.
In most superhero movies once the hero has moved beyond the second, or sometimes third film in the franchise, he, (it’s almost invariably a ‘he’) has a crisis of conscience. The supporting characters reflect this dilemma in various ways.
One such way is to question the adjacent rise of super villains. In terms of the story the question is framed thus; the villain arises as a response to the hero, checks and balances, that sort of thing. The hero then has to justify his existence, at least to his own satisfaction, and carry on doing superhero-y things.
But in our world the villains have and are always there.
Of course superheros, and villains, are one of the great allegories for What Lies Within; our human capacity for choosing behaviors and actions that hurt and/or support our Selves and others.
Anyone who spends any time on this blog will know that I enjoy a good superhero movie. (who’d’a thunk!) I love watching the spectacle, the ‘splosions, the fantasy, that CGI can create. (it also helps if there’s a decent story, good direction and acting, etc, but if the effects are good, I’ll muddle through the rest) It’s a much more satisfying way to defeat the villain than small ordinary successes of our ordinary lives.
There are days when I don’t want to do those ordinary tasks that enable me to survive and thrive on this planet. Some days I just want to watch an impossible dream come true, even if it is only a celluloid dream. (yeah, I know, no-one uses celluloid anymore)
And afterwards, the storm of my rebellion cleared away, I find myself inspired to attend to the rituals of my life with a bit more of a smile than I had before.
In keeping with my policy to see only one trailer for any movie I’m interested in actually going to the cinema to watch, I present for your viewing pleasure, Cate Blanchett destroying Moljnir with one hand and not raising a glimmer of perspiration whilst doing so. (even Captain America only managed to move it a millimeter or so in Age of Ultron)
There’s a few superhero blokes doing superhero-y bloke-y things … and Cate Blanchett!
This morning I was sitting up in bed with a pot of tea and a hot water bottle, because I’m menstruating, for the first time in five years.
I’m supposed to be POST menopausal. I have the hairs to prove it.
You ever wonder where the hairs on your legs go as you age? I know where. Ears, chin, and one very fine one that pops up in a different part of your body immediately after you eliminate it from somewhere else. Apparently this is normal.
Also ‘normal’ is menstruating like this … unless it ‘continues’.
How the hell does one define which side of the ‘continues’ continuum one is on?
Is it the number of tampons one goes through in a day? Which incidentally I don’t recommend using (after a five year break) without some sort of preparation. (the details of which I won’t go into here because even for a post as ‘menstrual-y’ as this one, that might be just too much information)
Is it a compilation of the kinds of emotional meltdowns one can go through into a single hour? Perhaps calibrated to the number of hankies one uses?
Or the intensity of cramps? Which sucked when I was 15, sucked when I was 35, and damn me if they don’t still suck at 58!
**pours Self another cup of tea, whimpers at Mrs Widds for another hot water bottle, and slides further under the covers**
I’m consigning the rest of today to the ‘hell-and-gone’ basket, and …
**looks our the window with a pale and wan melancholia**
…well … would you look at that? It’s raining … again …
There are so many sad (and melancholic) songs about rain, and I couldn’t go past my favourite diva of all time … the Divine Miss M
… continuing with the theme of my last post … from a certain point of view. (to quote Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi)
Every now and then our local library has a book sale to get rid of old, and probably not-very-popular, stock. They have books for sale individually, or for $5 you get a sturdy paper carry-bag that you can stuff to the gills.
Mrs Widds scored these …
As she was leafing through this one …
…a slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor.
‘Hi Dad & Betty
I just cruzed out to show you my new car but you weren’t home – thought you said you were always home
I was here at 5:40
Anyways I’ll try to stop by again
Who was ‘Crystal’? Who was ‘Betty’ and what sort of relationship did they have? What was the real story behind why she underlined ‘home’? Was she disappointed, or resigned, or relieved, they didn’t get to see her new car?
Oh, the stories that are within this little piece of paper.
There’s something … cathartic, about shredding books.
Not the kind of books fascist/religious extremists get all hot and bothered over, but the kind that’s been gathering dust under my desk since I realized there was no way I was ever going to inflict them on anyone else.
For those of you who don’t know the saga of Mortal Instinct, here it is in 23 words … signed a contract, publisher sucked, finished product sucked, publisher sold company, new publisher sucked, contract ran out, didn’t renew, all rights are mine.
I did however buy a bunch of hard copies in the misguided belief that my original publisher would stick to our mutually agreed timetable and I’d be able to go forward with my plan to launch at Vancouver Pride. Lesbians save the universe,+ Pride festival = perfect partners! … Oopsie.
This winter, secure in the knowledge my ‘author preferred edition’ (and self-published) of Mortal Instinct would bear only a passing resemblance to the original, I hauled out our trusty shredder and reduced the remaining copies to this …
Also in December I came across this little gem of a post at Writer Beware (the only blog devoted specifically to writer focused evildoers now that Preditors and Editors appears to have had the biscuit)
I may not have dodged a bullet with my first publisher but I certainly did with the second.
P.S. I did keep one copy for historical purposes.
I is being watching the snow go from this …
… to this
… to this …
… Now, is mah job …
For the newcomers to my blog, (Welcome!) Coco the Community cat adopted us after Widdercat died a few year ago. Actually Coco wanted to adopt us the minute we moved in but Widdercat would have none of it. Two fluffy Grande Dames going at it hammer-and-tongs, fur a-flying, all hissy and spitty, is a sight to behold, but not to be repeated, so Coco was hugged and cuddled when we went for walks, but studiously ignored when we were at home.
After Widdercat , we decided our lives were too transient (and dealing with the home owners association politics as lowly renters too futile) to give another cat a forever home. (we intend to have gazillions of them when we next move to our forever home. It’s been Mrs Widds and my experience that our cat companions have always found us at the right time)
In the absence of fur-fights Coco decided that, as absurd as our decision was, she would respect it and invited herself into our lives for cuddles, pats, and ‘now let me out’ visits.
We’re not the only cat-orphans she’s adopted. The four houses at our end of the driveway are all blessed by her Most High Fluffyness.
So, my finest Winter, to date, (3 months of snow on the ground) is now done and we are back to our usual Spring, Autumn, and Winter, rainforest-y climate – rain.