I went to the supermarket yesterday.  There were fairly long lines with the pre-Thanksgiving crowd and the cashiers were hauling whole turkeys over the scanners. 

 

I was very grateful not to be working in a supermarket anymore. 

 

In fact, the market was always open on Thanksgiving and I started working there in September of 2006 so this is going to be the first Thanksgiving since 2005 where I won’t have to go to work. 

Last night I had a dream that was backstory for Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. I was a young girl in a very wealthy family and the Basterds were using our decrepit summer estate for training. My mother cautioned me very strongly against associating with the Basterds but I think I sort of had a thing for Donny (aka the Bear Jew) who I referred to as a Golem.

I just finished watching season 1 of the television show Heroes and I can honestly say I’m a little obsessed. It’s not a great show but it is totally my kind of show, a sort of sprawling mishmash of elements from X-Men, Watchmen and the Manchurian Candidate and post 9/11 paranoia with lots of grandiose themes, moral ambiguity, family dysfunction and general angst.

I find myself particularly fascinated by the relationship between Peter and Nathan Petrelli. They’re brothers—Peter is a hospice nurse and Nathan is a lawyer running for Congress—but the intensity of their interactions makes them seem more like lovers.

I always wonder where stuff like (i.e. homoerotic and/or incestuous subtext) this comes from, is it intentional or just a quirk of chemistry? In some cases it’s conscious (on the DVD commentary for 28 Days Later for instance, Danny Boyle acknowledges that yet, Major Henry West is acting in a seductive manner towards Jim) I always wondered if while he was making Reservoir Dogs Quentin Tarantino told Tim Roth and Harvey Keitel to play Mr. Orange and Mr. White as a romance or if it just happened.

Some actors I’ve noticed just seem to have a particular gift for getting all over their male co-stars in a suggestive way. Viggo Mortensen (see him with William Hurt in A History of Violence or Vincent Cassel at the end of Eastern Promises) and Peter Stormare (Constantine, Prison Break, the Brothers Grimm) immediately come to mind but there are definitely others.

And speaking of slashy goodness…

Now that I’m done season 1 of Heroes I’ve started watching season 2 of the BBC show Merlin. Amusingly the season premiere starts off with scenes of Merlin rushing to a shirtless Arthur’s bedside and later Gwen doing the same for Morgana. In this series, I definitely think the homoerotic subtext is very conscious. There’s too much of it for it to be anything else.

I have mixed feelings about Merlin. On the one hand it feels like a rehash of the first couple seasons of Smallville in a medieval setting. Of course originality isn’t everything, but there’s a certain stagnancy to the show. It seems to tread water, never moving forward. Each episode seems to return it to a status quo. That said I do enjoy watching it because it’s so well done and beautiful to look at. The costumes and scenery and production design is wonderful. I’ve never seen a show with more vivid use of color. Katie Mcgrath and Angel Coulby, the young actresses who play Morgana and Gwen are absolutely exquisite. I could stare at Colin Morgan’s (Merlin’s) cheekbones all day and Anthony Stewart Head (Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer) is wonderful and magnetic as the very ambiguous King Uther.

I’m feeling much better than I was when I posted back on the 9^th. 

 

My health insurance finally came through so I’m taking my medication at the proper dosage once again.  I’ve also taken steps to get my daily calorie intake up to a level where I’m functioning instead of just surviving. 

 

Other positive things—

 

After a couple weeks with nothing promising on the job front, about four positions have come up in the past few days that I’m going to apply for.  Maybe something will work out.  Not that I’m terribly eager to get back to work (because let’s face it, its work) but I’d feel a bit more secure with a steady income and some reliable health insurance coverage. 

 

The weather is wonderfully mild for mid-November, temperatures in the 50’s and 60’s this last week. 

 

I’m getting back into the habit of writing everyday, which is great.  When I’m not writing I always feel sort of directionless.  Practicing and honing my craft gives me a real sense of purpose and accomplishment.   

 

I find taking care of my grandmother really rewarding.  Since I moved in with her, I’ve taken over changing the bedding every week and yesterday she thanked me for that and was telling me what a terrible time she used to have doing it by herself and how much easier having me around made life for her.  It really makes me feel good knowing I’m helping her even if it is in a very small and simple way.

From diachrony.

Current Book:  Inkspell by Conrnelia Funke

Current Playlist:  Tori Amos’ “Winter Graces” album, Laura Nyro, the soundtrack to Where the Wild Things Are.

Current Guilty Pleasure:  Petrellicest (fan fic about Nathan/Peter Petrelli from the TV show Heroes.)

Current Color:  Pink, always.

Current Drink: Diet Mountain Dew Ultra-violet soda.  Celestial Seasonings Vanilla Hazelnut tea.

Current Food:  Gigantic honeycrisp apples from the Cooperstown Farmer’s Market.

Current Favorite Show:   Mad Men (I just watched the season finale).  Heroes (I’m watching the first season on DVD). 

Current Wishlist:  Books on Katherine Howard (Henry VIII’s 5^th wife), an ink cartridge for my computer.

Current Needs:  A job, decent health insurance. 

Current Triumphs:  I started writing again after several months of writer’s block. 

Current Bane of My Existence:  Waiting for my health insurance plan to finally kick in, waiting to get my security deposit on my apartment back.

Current Celebrity Crush:  Christina Hendricks (Joan on Mad Men, Saffron on Firefly). 

Current Indulgence:  I’ve been rediscovering slash these last few days.

Current Blessing:  My family, weather in the 50’s and 60’s even through it’s November. 

Current Slang:  “Bushwackin’, scrub, alkie piece of shit.” 

Current Outfit:   Black yoga pants and a pink hooded sweater.

Current Excitement:  I’m going into Cooperstown to ask about a couple of jobs tomorrow.  Also I'm going to be stopping at the natural foods store.  This constitutes excitement in my life. 

Current Mood: Fine and mellow.

After several years of not cooking, I’ve been getting back into it lately.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I have people to cook for.  In Chicago I was pretty much on my own and limited my culinary activities to making myself salads.  Now however, I have my grandmother and parents in close proximity and willing to eat whatever I prepare. 

 

My mother writes and self-publishes books about local history.  She’s planning a party in about two weeks to thank the people who helped her on her latest book.  Since she doesn’t like cooking and I do I’m going to be doing a lot of the food preparation.  The tea I went to on Halloween gave me some great ideas (glazed pumpkin scones, walnut bread with cream cheese and apple slices, pumpkin pie meringues) and I’ve also been watching Food Network for inspiration.

 

Last night I was watching a Halloween themed “Horror Cake Challenge” and I was surprised to see a familiar face.  One of the competing chefs was Michelle Garcia from Bleeding Heart Bakery.  Bleeding Heart is a funky organic bakery in Chicago.  They were originally located in the Ukrainian Village neighborhood right down the street from my sister’s place then a couple years ago they moved to Damen and Belmont, only a couple blocks from the Whole Foods where I worked.  Michelle occasionally came into the market.  She was easy to recognize with her pink dreadlocks and prominent tattoos of mixing bowls and egg beaters.  Unfortunately Michelle didn’t win the Challenge or the $10,000 prize but I always considered her to be a local celebrity of my Chicago days so it was ever so cool to see her on national TV. 

My parents and I went to a literary high tea with a Halloween theme yesterday. 

 

It was held at a church in Jordanville, a small town about 45 minutes from our home.  It started off with tea and a course of all different kinds of little sandwiches, and then a story was read a loud.  After that there was more tea and a course of scones.  This was followed by two more stories and finally a dessert course. 

 

The first story read was “The Most Haunted House” from Spooks of the Valley edited by Louis C. Jones, a legendary folklorist in our area who put together several books of local ghost stories he collected.  The second story was Shirley Jackson’s always chilling “The Lottery” and the final story was Roald Dahl’s darkly humorous “Lamb to the Slaughter”. 

 

I admit I was a little disappointed that only the first story dealt with supernatural horror but still, it was quite an enjoyable and unusual way to celebrate one of my favorite holidays.  Being me I didn’t eat anything but it was interesting to see all the different things that were served and I got some ideas for things to make for the book release party my mother holding later this month. 

I’ve deeply drawn to the films of Lars Von Tier. There’s something about his worldview that validates the pessimism about human nature that I feel as a chronic depressive. Stephan Rylance’s review of Von Tier’s lastest movie, AntiChrist, really clarified this aspect of Von Tier’s work for me.

The Agonies of an Antichrist by Stephan Rylance

On the liter side is “Truly, Truly Outragous”, an article on Samantha Newark who was the speaking voice of Jem (Britta Phillips was her singing voice) on the 1980’s cartoon series Jem and the Holograms. Jem was a great show and the interview addresses it’s gay appeal and even mentions fan fiction.

Truly, Truly Outrageous by Noah Michelson

During August and September when I was still working at the supermarket I developed a daily after work ritual—I’d put on the soundtrack to Inglourios Basterds and polish off an entire bottle of wine while playing Farmville on Facebook. It’s only been a little more than a month but I already feel a combination of horror and deep nostalgia for that time in my life. The soundtrack however I have only enthusiasm for. It was recently posted on The American Nightmare, a music blog I sometimes follow and I would strongly recommend it.

Inglorious Basterds Soundtrack at The American Nightmare

I just finished reading Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart.  It was really wonderful.  It’s the story of a twelve year old girl named Meggie whose life with her bookbinder father, Mo, is disrupted when Dustfinger, a charming but untrustworthy figure from her father’s past appears at their house one night with a mysterious warning.  Gradually, Meggie learns that her father has the power to read people and things into and out of books and that nine years before he brought the Dustfinger as well as the villainous Capricorn and his henchman Basta to this world while accidentally banishing his wife into the pages of a book titled Inkheart. 

 

Capricorn, who has established himself as a crime lord, is after Mo hoping to use the bookbinders magical gift for his own gain.  Kindhearted but deserate to return to his own world Dustfinger is sometimes helps, sometimes hinders Meggie and Mo.  Their other allies are Meggie’s great-aunt Elinor, a devoted book collector, Farid a boy Mo reads out of The Arabian Nights, and Fenoglio, the author of Inkheart.

 

While Capricorn and his henchmen are certainly evil-- ruthless brutes who cheerfully commit arson and murder—Funke is not afraid to make her heroes deeply ambiguous.  Dustfinger’s loyalties are always questionable, Farid has a fascination for fire that sometimes make it seem as though he would be more at home among Capricorn’s followers than his enemies, Elinor lives in and for books and has little use for people, Mo keeps secrets from his daughter, Meggie herself is possessive of her father to the point where she isn’t sure that she wants to see her mother returned from the pages of Inkheart and Fenoglio takes an almost megalomaniac pleasure in the face that the characters he created have come to life.  Far from detracting from them, these flaws make the characters seem more human and in the end, even more heroic.

 

Inkheart is an exciting adventure story but it is all about books and the way stories can transform and enrich the world.  Books have great power in the world of Inkheart.  On the most superficial level Meggie, Mo and Elinor all love and value books, both for their content and as physical objects while Capricorn and his men are largely illiterate and actually burn books yet it is not that clean cut.  Books are not without their dangers.  This is illustrated by Elinor’s distain of real people and general disconnect from life as well as by the fact that the villain of the piece, Capricorn, actually comes from a book.  It is not just Mo’s power but Fenoglio’s skill as a writer that allows Capricorn to come to life.  The worlds that books open are far from harmless. 

 

I felt like Funke was very brave in introducing themes that couldn’t be easily resolved.  The easy way is to say “books should never be burned, books can’t harm anyone.”  Funke says “books should never be burned, but books just might have the power to burn you.”

 

There are two more volumes in the Inkworld Trilogy as it’s called, Inkspell and Inkdeath.  I’m looking forward to going to the library and devouring them.


German and English editions of Inkheart

Whenever I’m confronted with a situation my first instinct is to curl up and die.  Luckily my second instinct is who get up, figure out what I have to do and do it so I managed to  work things out so I won’t have to go off my medication. 

 

I had enough Abilify (the most expensive of my meds) to last two weeks so ended up refilling my generic Prozac and getting then got two weeks worth of Cymbalta.  It wound up costing about $145.  Hopefully by the time I run out of everything my insurance company will have received and possessed my payment for October and November and I’ll be properly covered.

 

I have to say dealing with health insurance and trying to keep myself in meds is always good for a sleepless night. 

I’ve come to expect that if something can go wrong with health insurance it will and it apparently has in the case of my COBRA plan.  I found out today when I was trying to refill my antidepressant prescriptions that it’ll be about two weeks till my coverage kicks in.  In the meantime I have to decide if I’m going to shell out around $800 for meds or go without. 

 

This situation is mainly my fault—I apparently misunderstood something in the 20 page COBRA starter packet—but still it seems like a really bad state of affairs that people have to face choices like this.  I’d like to see a world where you could get the medication you needed without going through huge bureaucratic hassles and/or spending a fortune.  I’m lucky of course.  Withdrawal from my cocktail of psycho-active drugs isn’t going to be pleasant and it’s certainly not medically advisable but I don’t know that anyone has ever died from going off Cymbalta, Prozac and Abilify.  I know there are people out there who face life and death choice with regards to medication.

 

I know there are many people who consider socialized medicine a terrible thing and are against President Obama’s proposed Healthcare reforms (my father is of this opinion as are several of my high school friends who I communicate with through Facebook).  I don’t want to belittle their views but However from my perspective, that of  an individual who doesn’t have a lot of money and suffers from a chronic medical condition, healthcare reform seems necessary and socialized medicine seems like a really great thing.

On Friday I went to an exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum called “American’s Rome: Artists in the Eternal City 1800-1900 that spotlighted the Roman themed work of 19^th century American Artists. The exhibit included many painting of ruins and the commentary on these featured a quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Marble Faun that I really liked:

“(America is) a land where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a common-place prosperity, in broad and simple daylight… Romance and poetry need Ruin to make them grow.”

Reading this I couldn’t help but add horror to Hawthorne’s list of ideas that require Ruin to thrive. Horror often mines ancient evils. Hawthorne himself looked back to his puritan ancestors in House of the Seven Gables and The Scarlet Letter. Later H. P. Lovecraft would create a dark New England of sinister in-bred ghouls and otherworldly terrors. Stephan King’s characters stir up paranormal discord by unearthing Indian burial grounds. America then does have its picturesque and gloomy wrongs, either uncovered or created, but I can see the appeal of European settings, of the “old world” and its imagery. Though it’s been tarnished by war, murder, injustice, evil and insanity America remains comparatively shiny and new.

In Alan Moore’s graphic novel From Hell there’s an amazing chapter where William Gull gives a tour of London spanning from druid times to the present day, revealing layer upon layer of history and mystery. It’s simply not possible to give such a tour of an American city. Because Native American culture and lore was essentially erased even the oldest parts of the country only go back a few centuries. The idea of a thousand or even two thousand years of documented, known, decaying history fascinates me.

It doesn’t surprise me that many of Edger Allen Poe’s most popular short stories are set in a mythical Europe and draw on centuries old imagery of the inquisition, skeleton filled catacombs and ancient family lineages. I thought of stories like The Pit and the Pendulum, Masque of the Red Death and The Fall of the House of Usher when I read Hawthorne’s quote.

I also thought of Hostel, a film I watched a couple of weeks ago for the first time. An extremely violent tale of American’s abroad who are lured to a hostel that provides victims for those willing to pay to murder and torture, Hostel was widely criticized when it was released for exploiting post-9/11 xenophobia and paranoia. Meditating on the quote by Hawthorne however I feel like it belongs in an older, gothic tradition where the American consciousness is mesmerized and frightened by the mystery and gloomy wrongs of an older world.

Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are is one of those books that I’ve loved as both a little girl and a grown woman. Visually it appeals to me enormously, the illustrations are gorgeous, but beyond that I’ve always been fascinated by the story (simple and epic all at once), by Sendak’s sly sense of humor, by the sense of joy and the edge of darkness the book contains. In a lot of ways Where the Wild Things Are has always struck me as a story that works on a primeval, Jungian level charting the child’s process of identity building in a mythic fable. Growing up is like Max’s journey. You over step boundaries, you reject authority, you play with other roles and unacceptable behavior, you run amok but then hopefully you return your parents, your home, to love and safety and order.

I felt like Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are film did a really good job with the difficult task of adapting Sendak’s book. The movie is visually striking in its own right and doesn’t slight either the playfulness or the sometimes menacing edginess of the original.

Screenwriters Jonze and David Eggers stay true to the narrative outlines sketched by Sendak while fleshing out the story. We see a bit more of Max’s home life than the book shows. Nine year old Max (Max Records) is an extremely creative little boy with a rambunctious streak. His older sister can’t be bothered with him and his divorced, working mother loves and encourages him, but sometimes she kind of wants a life of her own. At school his science teacher talks about the sun dying. Wanting attention, confused, angry, sad and frightened all at once Max lashes out. First he trashes his sister’s room after her friends wreck the igloo he’s built. Then he behaves badly indeed when his mother has a (male) friend over for dinner, eventually biting her before he flees.

Max arrives in the world of the Wild Things to find one of them, Carol, in the process of breaking things. Max immediately identifies, as well he should. The Wild Things, especially Carol, are like giant, motherless children. Theirs is an id level world of joyful rough and tumble anarchy on one hand and frightening destructive violence on the other. Initially they consider eating Max but when he assures them he can do away with sadness and loneliness and make it so they’re happy all the time they make him their king. They all have wonderful, raucous fun together and Max sets them to work building the ultimate fort but the family of the Wild Things is no without it’s conflict and Max isn’t able to make them go away. Carol ultimately becomes as frustrated with Max as Max became with his mother and like Max lashes out.

The themes of the fallibility of authority figures and the currents of destructiveness that exist even in loving families are new to the film version of Where the Wild Things Are. There was a certain gleeful amorality to Sendak’s version but in the film it’s spelled out more clearly the ways Max grows through his experiences among the Wild Things—he returns because his time as king has taught him empathy for his mother.

I’m going to see the film version of Where the Wild Things Are tomorrow.  I’m really excited about it since it’s based on what probably was my most favorite picture book when I was little.  

 

My mother is going with me, she’s a children’s book dealer and loves Maurice Sendak (as do I).  Of course I sort of got her to accompany me on false pretenses.  I deliberately failed to mention to her that Where the Wild Things are was directed by Spike Jonze, the man who brought us Being John Malkovich.  I’m not sure how or why, but years ago mum somehow managed to get into a showing of Being John Malkovich and will occasionally make reference to “that awful film with the lesbians.”  Mum really is-- how do they say it-- a piece of work.

I wrote most of this in August but only just got around to finishing it up. I’m currently into Season 3 of Dexter--

I recently watched the first two seasons of the Showtime series Dexter. At roughly the same time I was also reading the manga Death Note (I’m on volume 9 of 12) and I find myself sort of fascinated by the striking similarities and differences between these two series.

( cut for spoilers )

I managed to do Master Cleanse for the entire five day period I set for myself and I’m feeling a bit more in control of myself after my recent indulgences.

I spent my first six nights back in New York at my parent’s house, but on Friday afternoon moved in with my grandmother. So far things are going well though it’s a period of adjustment for both of us, not to mention her cat who doesn’t like the fact that there’s a stranger living in his house.

After a week of using my parent’s computer with dial-up I once again have my own computer and a high speed internet connection. I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for it of course as I don’t have an income. Still, I’ve applied for a couple of jobs and at my father’s insistence also put in for unemployment. I’m pretty sure won’t qualify as I voluntarily resigned from my job but Pa still thinks that I may be eligible.

Thursday was my last day of work.

Friday was my going away party. General debauchery. I wore what is called a “Wicked Fairy” wig that I got at Walgreen’s last year for $7.99.


My going away party.

Saturday I took my precious/much reviled kitty over to my sisters to live.

Me and kitty.

Sunday I went over to my sister’s for my niece’s 5th Birthday celebration.

Monday Brown Elephant, a local thrift shop affiliated with the Howard Brown Center for gay and lesbian health came and picked up a lot of my furniture.

Tomorrow my Pa-Daddy arrives from NY.

Wednesday will be devoted to cleaning my apartment and giving up my keys.

Thursday I head to New York.

I finished work at Whole Foods today.

I'm all done and I'm never going back.

I ought to be afraid, given that I'm now officially unemployed in the middle of a recession but I'm oddly elated.

Tomorrow is my going away party then I have a couple days to get organized as far as getting rid of my car and furniture. My father will be here on the 22nd and on the 24th (very early in the morning if I know my Pa-Daddy) I will quit the great city of Chicago.

I am, to quote Little Red Riding Hood from Into the Woods "excited and scared."

In lieu of a carefully constructed and well thought out review (I have to write one at some point) a few random thoughts on my favorite basterds….

I’ve really never found Brad Pitt attractive. Maybe it’s because I associate him with dark, goofball roles in films like Seven Monkeys and Kalifornia. Even in Fight Club he stuck me as more goofy than sexy. His Inglourious Basterds character, who I see as a sort of a dumb, vicious cracker is funny doesn’t really hold much appeal for me.

Sgt. Donnie Donowitz aka “The Bear Jew” (Eli Roth) is definitely built but a little too violent for my tastes. Also he directed Hostel, which may or may not make him a truly frightening individual.

Overall I’d have to say that Pfc. Smithson Utivich aka “The Little Man” (B. J. Novak) is my favorite of the Inglourious Basterds. I love the way he’s nervously drinking wine during the last scene when he and Lt. Aldo Raine have been captured by Landa and are basically negotiating the terms to end the war. It’s one of the few endearing traits displayed by a character in the film.

Second favorite Basterd (and I wish the film had gotten in a little more of him) is Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz (Til Schweiger) cuz he’s just crazy, motherfucker. There’s a moment we look inside his head and there are whips and chains.