August 23rd, 2009

Me 2 (B&W)

Snippets of the morning

* An errand, already accomplished: there's a recycling depot a 10-minute walk from my place. I know this because I walked to it for the first time, carrying two paper bags full of newspapers to drop off. Because my lower body strength is fantastic, but my upper body strength needs work. Plus I didn't want to drive.

* I dropped off the papers and rummaged through the magazine recycling bin. You never know what you're going to find there. I found a stash of Rolling Stones, some from the Eighties. I read one with a cover article on George Harrison's Cloud Nine, an album I like. Mom bought it at my urging back in the day, and I listened to it maybe once that decade, but finally got into it and liked it a lot come this decade. As if Mom bought it for Future Chris!

The issue also had a profile of the (then) new band Jane's Addiction. Dave Navarro looked like a baby. Perry Farrell already looked a little like an alien. An amused alien.

The most surprising find in that bin: a Washington Flyer, also from 1987. That was (still is?) the free little magazine published by the authority that runs Washington D.C.'s airports, Washington National and Dulles International, each of them about 3,000 miles from here so who knows how it arrived in a Portland recycling bin.

I was a budding airplane enthusiast back in 1987; I may have read that issue 22 years ago. Past Chris may know for sure, but he's not telling me. ;-)

* Oh, it's a good morning for walking. Cool and with a light overcast so the sun ducks in and out, thanks to the slight breeze making those clouds move a bit. We aren't stagnant.

* One way to make me feel better: friends having a kick-ass time at Pi-Con. I've seen one photo from it so far. I'm looking forward to more.

* Another way to make me feel better: Warm Michael Kamen music. Like much of the score to Band of Brothers.

* Oh, and the windows open? Yet another thing that makes me feel better.
Whale fluke

Not being inappropriate: a post about hang-ups

Inspired by this post from puppetmaker40 about seeing the stage versions of The Little Mermaid and The Lion King:

Sometimes my hang-ups assert themselves in unexpected ways.

When I saw The Little Mermaid in 1989, I actually had trouble watching Ariel's first transformation into a human. There'd been the dramatic, emotionally difficult moment of Ariel giving up her voice -- this can still give me sad chills -- and then Ursula's evil version of magic does its thing and, in moments, Ariel has legs. And is underage and naked, on top of being scared. She swims off to the echoes of Ursula's evil laugh.

I don't think I've ever watched the end of that scene straight-on. I've always flinched a bit, turned away. I don't think I ever covered my eyes, but I didn't want to see something (to quote Futurama) I couldn't un-see. As if the animators would've drawn, or the directors would've allowed, any inappropriate imagery. No; they were discreet, I'm sure, and playing up the scariness of the moment. But a part of my mind was worried how I'd react to seeing any of that.

Yes, twenty years ago when I was 16 and watching a G-rated film, created by Disney which is so concerned with not being inappropriate, I was worried that I'd see something inappropriate -- or, more to the point, something inappropriate that I might enjoy seeing too much.

I like to think I was getting well-trained in being, well, appropriate.

There was another time, over Labor Day weekend in 2004, when I'd finished a day temping at a mattress store and two young delivery guys were giving me a ride back to my car in their truck. They were, like me, girl-watchers, and we were in the high vantage point of the truck cab, and they pointed out cute, hot, and sexy women. I'd look. But then I'd look at someone or something else if a woman they'd pointed out was clearly high school age (I like to think I didn't look long enough to see whether they were younger). The delivery guys were in their very early 20s, so I felt that was slightly less bad than my 30-year-old self looking at high schoolers. I didn't make it an issue.

Trust me, I notice sexiness. I'm surrounded by sexiness. My group of friends is full of lovely, often gorgeous people, and I appreciate that (even had crushes inspired by that). I've said it before: there's plenty of sexy in the world, if you know where to look. I guess I know where not to look.

I'm relieved that I don't try to find sexy what I shouldn't find sexy. I don't want that to be a damaged part of myself.
Whale fluke

"I was living in a small town in Oregon called Castle Rock..."

Now it's worth telling. Two Fridays from now, the September Cort and Fatboy Movie At 11-ish Midnight Movie is Stand By Me. One of the genuinely great films that have been shot in Oregon. A story where Wil Wheaton plays a boy who grows up to be a writer, after which he grew up to be a writer. An early source of many crushes on River Phoenix. The film with perhaps the best vomit scene in movie history. And on a personal note, the first R-rated movie I saw in a theater.

Here is the poster Bobby "Fatboy" Roberts has concocted. I like it. Evocative.

Stand By Me. Friday, Sept. 4th, the Bagdad Theater and Pub. $3 to get in. Doors at 10, movie a little after 11 (when Bobby's opening clip show will run).