Prussia!
Kind of like that, I just got the word "litotes" on freerice, and I can't bring myself to move on.
(I just read that old blog post and God fucking damn it, Lupin did die. I hate myself. I killed him. I'm a murderess. I was so happy when he came over and was all insane with happiness because the baby had been born and then, GOD DAMN EVERYONE, he died.)
Anyway, back to litotes. I was just thinking about litotes today because I was writing a paper for Queer Theory and I wrote "not infrequent", and then I paused and thought about litotes, my absolute favorite figure of speech that I learned from Latin class. Seriously, where do other people learn about litotes and shit? I don't think I ever learned about litotes in any other class. Well, I love litotes. Cicero used them to grand effect. Biting sarcasm. Cicero was very cool because that speech was largely extemporized because he didn't know Cataline was going to be there that day, and man, Cicero took him to pieces. Using litotes and a variety of either charming figures of speech including asyndeton and synechdoche and the ever-popular praeteritio.
Good old litotes. It's so nice to have litotes on freerice that I can't bring myself to answer it and carry on. It'll be so irrevocable.
Litotes! Litotes! Litotes! Today can be the Official Litotes Celebration Day! 7 November! This is good because I always feel like 7 November is a holiday. 7 November rolls around and I think, Hey, it's funny how we have two holidays so close together, the fifth of November and now; but actually November 7 isn't anything.
Oh no! It is! My half-birthday! OH YEAH! That's what that is! My half-birthday! And now Official Litotes Celebration Day!
Showing posts with label Professor R. J. Lupin Whom I Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Professor R. J. Lupin Whom I Love. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Kingsley Shacklebolt
I am just in the process of reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows out loud for my darling and beloved aunty, who I hope isn't reading this because I'm probably going to say something about who dies in the seventh book. I have been doing this for many a year, along with my darling mum, but this time it's very high-tech and new-millennium. We used to read onto tapes, and now, now I am reading it onto CDs. I have music-recording software for my computer, and I use my headphones with the microphone attachment. It's all a lot easier: I don't have to use one hand to hold a microphone, so I have two hands for holding the book, and furthermore I can create track splits in the software with just the click of a button and burn the CD straight from the software, and CDs are more space-efficient, and, gosh, it's just a lot easier.
Okay, so raptures about my new improved method aside, here's the pathetic thing about the reading I am doing right now. It's to do with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I am now about to reveal who dies in the seventh book, so don't look, anyone who doesn't want to know.
I love Kingsley Shacklebolt. I wish we could have seen more of him, cause I think he's swell. He has a deep soothing voice; he's so swell that even the Dursleys like him; he's insanely competent and clever and thinks on his feet; he delivers what is definitely the most effective line in the seventh book and probably in the whole series (though I have a sentimental attachment to "Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!" because every time I read it my heart stops and I forget that I know perfectly well that this is not a bad thing because Sirius is a GOOD GUY); and he becomes the Minister of Magic and just sorts everything out, I bet. In fact, in the seventh book, I love him rather more than Lupin, who kind of acts like a bit of a dick in a lot of this book, and I appreciate your inner turmoil, guy, but proposing to abandon your wife and baby makes me VERY CROSS, though I am really, really sorry you had to die, and that fuckhead Dolohov, if I ever get my hands on him, I will, I will, I will STOMP ON HIS FACE, because you had just had a baby, a dear sweet little baby, and it was very uncool for you to have to perish so that the baby could grow up in a better world, which he does do, so well done you, I guess.
Anyway, I love Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I don't want to do his voice wrong. My mum and I decided as soon as we met darling Kingsley that he probably had a bit of a Caribbean accent, which actually now that I'm thinking about it must be because his name is Kingsley, and the capital of Jamaica (which is in the Caribbean) is Kingston, and that must be why we thought of it. But Kingsley has a number of lines in this book, and I turn out to be not wholly and horrifically unsuccessful at doing a Caribbean accent (though it isn't one for the books or anything). The only thing is, and believe me when I say that I recognize how absurd this is, that I can only do it with reference to Sebastian the crab.
So here's me, cruising along, reading, and I espy a line by Kingsley Shacklebolt somewhere up ahead. I read right up to the sentence before Kingsley speaks, and then I stop recording and sing quietly, "Under the sea, under the sea, dahling it's better down where it's wetter, take it from me!" and then, only then, am I good to go. I really need to take a class and learn how to do all kinds of accents, so that I wouldn't have to resort to silly tricks like this.
I love reading out loud. I'm going back to it now.
Okay, so raptures about my new improved method aside, here's the pathetic thing about the reading I am doing right now. It's to do with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I am now about to reveal who dies in the seventh book, so don't look, anyone who doesn't want to know.
I love Kingsley Shacklebolt. I wish we could have seen more of him, cause I think he's swell. He has a deep soothing voice; he's so swell that even the Dursleys like him; he's insanely competent and clever and thinks on his feet; he delivers what is definitely the most effective line in the seventh book and probably in the whole series (though I have a sentimental attachment to "Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!" because every time I read it my heart stops and I forget that I know perfectly well that this is not a bad thing because Sirius is a GOOD GUY); and he becomes the Minister of Magic and just sorts everything out, I bet. In fact, in the seventh book, I love him rather more than Lupin, who kind of acts like a bit of a dick in a lot of this book, and I appreciate your inner turmoil, guy, but proposing to abandon your wife and baby makes me VERY CROSS, though I am really, really sorry you had to die, and that fuckhead Dolohov, if I ever get my hands on him, I will, I will, I will STOMP ON HIS FACE, because you had just had a baby, a dear sweet little baby, and it was very uncool for you to have to perish so that the baby could grow up in a better world, which he does do, so well done you, I guess.
Anyway, I love Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I don't want to do his voice wrong. My mum and I decided as soon as we met darling Kingsley that he probably had a bit of a Caribbean accent, which actually now that I'm thinking about it must be because his name is Kingsley, and the capital of Jamaica (which is in the Caribbean) is Kingston, and that must be why we thought of it. But Kingsley has a number of lines in this book, and I turn out to be not wholly and horrifically unsuccessful at doing a Caribbean accent (though it isn't one for the books or anything). The only thing is, and believe me when I say that I recognize how absurd this is, that I can only do it with reference to Sebastian the crab.
So here's me, cruising along, reading, and I espy a line by Kingsley Shacklebolt somewhere up ahead. I read right up to the sentence before Kingsley speaks, and then I stop recording and sing quietly, "Under the sea, under the sea, dahling it's better down where it's wetter, take it from me!" and then, only then, am I good to go. I really need to take a class and learn how to do all kinds of accents, so that I wouldn't have to resort to silly tricks like this.
I love reading out loud. I'm going back to it now.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Harry Potter 7 spoilers contained within this post, though not very many
Spoilers, I swear to God, I am starting in just a minute and there will be the spoilers.
Happening now.
Okay. I so totally called it! I WAS SO RIGHT.
(Please ignore what I said about McGonagall. I was never really sure about that anyway.)
But I was so right about Snape and Petunia and Lily! I was completely and entirely and perfectly right and I feel like such a genius right now because I totally am!
Also, JK Rowling, you are a big meanie to kill, um, that person that I believe we discussed and decided we weren't going to kill (you weren't present for the conversation but you damn well should have picked up on it). Actually, I believe I made a list of four people that you really absolutely couldn't kill, and damn if you didn't go ahead and pick off three of them, ya big meanie, and don't pretend like you didn't enjoy dangling the possibility of the fourth one's dying in front of me like, oh, I don't know, every TEN PAGES OR SO like it was a FUNNY JOKE to pretend that he was going to die.
I actually can't pretend that I didn't know it was coming. As soon as, you know, a certain person showed up all happy and rejoicing and with a baby and everything and was all, Oo, Harry, you be godfather, I was positive that the certain person and his blushing bride weren't going to make it. And I frankly think that it is mean to the poor wee baby not to let at least one of his parents survive; and also, who the hell ended up raising that infant? I was sure Harry was going to do it, what with him being all godfathery and everything.
This masquerade is useless. We all know who I'm talking about. She killed Lupin. I want him back.
P.S. Denial is much easier when she doesn't make a meal of the deaths. Sirius and Dumbledore, everyone kept talking about them and there was all this fallout after they died, what with guilt and wills and so forth; but all the people who died in this one snuffed it rather quickly and everyone was too busy trying to kill Voldemort to worry about them much. So in fact I found it easier to read about the ten thousand bazillion people who died in this book than I did Sirius or Dumbledore individually. And that's all. But I want Lupin back. I loved him.
Happening now.
Okay. I so totally called it! I WAS SO RIGHT.
(Please ignore what I said about McGonagall. I was never really sure about that anyway.)
But I was so right about Snape and Petunia and Lily! I was completely and entirely and perfectly right and I feel like such a genius right now because I totally am!
Also, JK Rowling, you are a big meanie to kill, um, that person that I believe we discussed and decided we weren't going to kill (you weren't present for the conversation but you damn well should have picked up on it). Actually, I believe I made a list of four people that you really absolutely couldn't kill, and damn if you didn't go ahead and pick off three of them, ya big meanie, and don't pretend like you didn't enjoy dangling the possibility of the fourth one's dying in front of me like, oh, I don't know, every TEN PAGES OR SO like it was a FUNNY JOKE to pretend that he was going to die.
I actually can't pretend that I didn't know it was coming. As soon as, you know, a certain person showed up all happy and rejoicing and with a baby and everything and was all, Oo, Harry, you be godfather, I was positive that the certain person and his blushing bride weren't going to make it. And I frankly think that it is mean to the poor wee baby not to let at least one of his parents survive; and also, who the hell ended up raising that infant? I was sure Harry was going to do it, what with him being all godfathery and everything.
This masquerade is useless. We all know who I'm talking about. She killed Lupin. I want him back.
P.S. Denial is much easier when she doesn't make a meal of the deaths. Sirius and Dumbledore, everyone kept talking about them and there was all this fallout after they died, what with guilt and wills and so forth; but all the people who died in this one snuffed it rather quickly and everyone was too busy trying to kill Voldemort to worry about them much. So in fact I found it easier to read about the ten thousand bazillion people who died in this book than I did Sirius or Dumbledore individually. And that's all. But I want Lupin back. I loved him.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Petunia knows Snape! Snape and Petunia and Lily knew each other as adolescents or perhaps earlier!; or, My brain surprises even me sometimes.
Petunia knows Snape! Snape knew Lily's family! How has this escaped me for so long?
Okay, here's how it all went down.
Snape and Lily knew each other as children. Either they met before Hogwarts, or they met at Hogwarts and became friends, but anyway they hung out together as children, and Snape spent some time at the Evans house so he knew Petunia as well. It seems likely that Lily would have been nice to poor misfit Snape at Hogwarts, since Lupin says in the third movie that she was an extraordinarily kind person with a gift for seeing the good in people even and perhaps especially when they could not see it in themselves. I kind of see Snape as enjoying knowing more than Muggle-born Lily about the wizarding world, and imparting his knowledge to her. As they got older, I think he started feeling uncomfortable about being friends with her, and it's plain from his memory that by their fifth year he was acting like an ass to her. He was in with the sketchy Death Eater kids sometime in school, and so on that basis he quit being friends with Lily even though he was plainly in love with her.
I am basing all this on a rather awkward conversation between Aunt Petunia and Harry in the fifth book. Petunia says that dementors guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and everyone turns to her in astonishment, and she says that she heard "that awful boy telling her about them, years ago". Harry says that if she means his mum and dad, why doesn't she just use their names? Petunia appears to ignore him and seems very flustered.
We're obviously meant to assume that Petunia does mean his mum and dad, and that she is flustered about having revealed that she possesses knowlege on a subject completely anathema to the life she has built for herself. But I was reading it today, and I think there's something else going on here. The more I think about it, the more totally convinced I am.
The question Harry asks seems a trifle strange given the context. He's used to the Dursleys' being snotty about his parents, and surely the more important issue here is that Aunt Petunia knows about dementors! The fact that he brings it up, and particularly the phrasing of it, seems designed to draw our attention to the fact that Petunia isn't using names, which gives rise to the question: Who else could she be talking about?
Very important here is the information we get from Sirius and Lupin later on in the fifth book that Lily didn't start going out with James until the seventh year, when he "deflated his head" a bit. Until then, she obviously thought he was a bit of an idiot (even if, as Rowling has suggested, she liked him more than she acted like she liked him in Snape's memory). The phrase "awful boy" is suggestive to me. Petunia has never used the word "boy" to describe James; she and Marge and Vernon have all only ever (as far as I can recall) referred to him as "Potter". "Awful boy" sounds diminutive, like she's talking about a kid, certainly younger than James would have been when she first met him (at least seventeen when he started dating Lily). But that in itself is something of a semantic quibble, and it's certainly not outside the realm of possibility that Petunia would call him that.
Here's what really gets me. She heard the awful boy "telling" Lily about the dementors. Not talking to her about them, telling her about them. If she was talking about James, then James and Lily would both have had to be seventeen years old and in their final year at Hogwarts. (Or older - we know they started dating at seventeen but we have no idea when Lily first brought James home to meet the folks.) It seems incredibly unlikely to me that any witch attending Hogwarts, let alone a very clever and talented one like Lily, should make it to year 7 without knowing about dementors. In the third book when dementors first show up, many of the students seem unsurprised by them (Ron and his brothers plainly already knew about them), and I'm guessing that Hermione, for one, already knew they existed. Surely Lily would have known about dementors by the time she started dating James.
What seems much more likely, given that Lily is from a Muggle background, is that Snape was telling her about them when they were much younger, in their early years at Hogwarts. Snape was "the awful boy", and it really was years ago, dogs' ages, even before Lily met James, back when Lily and Petunia were in their early teens. Snape spent time at the Evans home, and he told her things about the wizarding world with which she, as a Muggle-born, would have been unfamiliar, like dementors.
This seems tremendously significant but I don't know why. I bet Petunia knew that Snape had a crush on Lily. I just wonder why this is all important. Something to do with Dumbledore's having occasion to correspond with her before the Potters died. Something to do with Snape's having been in love with Lily.
Good theory, eh? Aren't I clever? Interpreting these little peculiarities of conversation with a keen eye? You thought you could fool me, JK Rowling, but I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU. (Sometimes.)
Also, I love Lupin. I hope he survives.
Okay, here's how it all went down.
Snape and Lily knew each other as children. Either they met before Hogwarts, or they met at Hogwarts and became friends, but anyway they hung out together as children, and Snape spent some time at the Evans house so he knew Petunia as well. It seems likely that Lily would have been nice to poor misfit Snape at Hogwarts, since Lupin says in the third movie that she was an extraordinarily kind person with a gift for seeing the good in people even and perhaps especially when they could not see it in themselves. I kind of see Snape as enjoying knowing more than Muggle-born Lily about the wizarding world, and imparting his knowledge to her. As they got older, I think he started feeling uncomfortable about being friends with her, and it's plain from his memory that by their fifth year he was acting like an ass to her. He was in with the sketchy Death Eater kids sometime in school, and so on that basis he quit being friends with Lily even though he was plainly in love with her.
I am basing all this on a rather awkward conversation between Aunt Petunia and Harry in the fifth book. Petunia says that dementors guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and everyone turns to her in astonishment, and she says that she heard "that awful boy telling her about them, years ago". Harry says that if she means his mum and dad, why doesn't she just use their names? Petunia appears to ignore him and seems very flustered.
We're obviously meant to assume that Petunia does mean his mum and dad, and that she is flustered about having revealed that she possesses knowlege on a subject completely anathema to the life she has built for herself. But I was reading it today, and I think there's something else going on here. The more I think about it, the more totally convinced I am.
The question Harry asks seems a trifle strange given the context. He's used to the Dursleys' being snotty about his parents, and surely the more important issue here is that Aunt Petunia knows about dementors! The fact that he brings it up, and particularly the phrasing of it, seems designed to draw our attention to the fact that Petunia isn't using names, which gives rise to the question: Who else could she be talking about?
Very important here is the information we get from Sirius and Lupin later on in the fifth book that Lily didn't start going out with James until the seventh year, when he "deflated his head" a bit. Until then, she obviously thought he was a bit of an idiot (even if, as Rowling has suggested, she liked him more than she acted like she liked him in Snape's memory). The phrase "awful boy" is suggestive to me. Petunia has never used the word "boy" to describe James; she and Marge and Vernon have all only ever (as far as I can recall) referred to him as "Potter". "Awful boy" sounds diminutive, like she's talking about a kid, certainly younger than James would have been when she first met him (at least seventeen when he started dating Lily). But that in itself is something of a semantic quibble, and it's certainly not outside the realm of possibility that Petunia would call him that.
Here's what really gets me. She heard the awful boy "telling" Lily about the dementors. Not talking to her about them, telling her about them. If she was talking about James, then James and Lily would both have had to be seventeen years old and in their final year at Hogwarts. (Or older - we know they started dating at seventeen but we have no idea when Lily first brought James home to meet the folks.) It seems incredibly unlikely to me that any witch attending Hogwarts, let alone a very clever and talented one like Lily, should make it to year 7 without knowing about dementors. In the third book when dementors first show up, many of the students seem unsurprised by them (Ron and his brothers plainly already knew about them), and I'm guessing that Hermione, for one, already knew they existed. Surely Lily would have known about dementors by the time she started dating James.
What seems much more likely, given that Lily is from a Muggle background, is that Snape was telling her about them when they were much younger, in their early years at Hogwarts. Snape was "the awful boy", and it really was years ago, dogs' ages, even before Lily met James, back when Lily and Petunia were in their early teens. Snape spent time at the Evans home, and he told her things about the wizarding world with which she, as a Muggle-born, would have been unfamiliar, like dementors.
This seems tremendously significant but I don't know why. I bet Petunia knew that Snape had a crush on Lily. I just wonder why this is all important. Something to do with Dumbledore's having occasion to correspond with her before the Potters died. Something to do with Snape's having been in love with Lily.
Good theory, eh? Aren't I clever? Interpreting these little peculiarities of conversation with a keen eye? You thought you could fool me, JK Rowling, but I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU. (Sometimes.)
Also, I love Lupin. I hope he survives.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
I missed my calling (I really did)
I should have been a casting director. I would be such a movie casting goddess, particularly if I had little people around who could give me options and make me lists of everyone of the right age and sex to choose from, and head shots to remind me what they all looked like. I would find people and I would attend auditions and I would choose people extremely appropriately, and then when books got made into films there would be no more of this me-being-disappointed-in-the-actors-they-chose business.
For instance, whose idea was it to cast David Thewlis as Lupin? (I do seem to go on and on about Lupin. I really love him, however. Fangs are sexy. I'm going to make Lupin his own category.) If anyone had any sense or judgment they would have cast David Wenham -- just missed it by one surname, blast them! Did you see The Two Towers? David Wenham is practically Lupin in that already, with that exactly-perfect-for-Lupin kind of underneath tortured misery that he knows he can't do anything about and he's just had to learn to live with.
(Aside: HOLY SHIT. He was also the scary white-faced crazy writer in Moulin Rouge that stopped writing the show because adorable Ewan McGregor showed up. Remember that guy? That was David Wenham. You totally didn't know that -- probably because you had no idea who David Wenham was. Well, anyway, that just shows he's versatile and could convert his Faramir tortured misery into Lupin tortured misery.)
Okay, and here's another example. Eric Bana has just been cast as Henry in The Time-Traveler's Wife, which is fair enough and I'm sure he'll be all right, but the thing is that my sister and I had already cast that part and we had given it to Billy Crudup. We were very contented with our selection! Billy Crudup! He is elegant and dangerous and I know that Henry's supposed to be tall but what the hell so is Clare and they've given that part to Rachel McAdams and anyway Billy Crudup acts tall terribly well so it would have been JUST PERFECT. Silly casting people. I was so sad about the Billy Crudup thing that I conceived a desperate desire to read The Time Traveler's Wife again, and the library didn't have it and I was forced to buy it from the Waterstone's on campus. That's what happens when there are casting mistakes: I spend £7.99 and probably stay up all night reading my new book and abjectly weeping.
I am currently in the process (it's a process. it takes a long time. luckily so does preparing to make movies) of casting Greensleeves, one of the best books in all the world and also containing the character that I actually would choose to marry out of all the fictional characters in all the world, including Ramses and John Tregarth and Mr. Rochester (before and after the fire) and Lupin and everyone. Nezabeth, who (curse her!) always wants to marry the same people as I do, could have everyone else we want to marry in the whole world, as long as I got Sherry from Greensleeves. Anyway I have decided that James McAvoy should be him even though he's not tall enough (he is a fencer, however, and a fire-eater which is completely irrelevant but I thought I'd let you know) and now I am working on the other main characters, and it pleases me very much.
A while ago my little sister and I cast Howl's Moving Castle, I believe very successfully, but I've forgotten who was who. We did a really good job. Christian Bale wasn't in it. If I were the casting director for the world, Christian Bale would never work again except in really obnoxious parts with people who have pretentious mouths and irritating voices. And I would send a note to Jonathan Rhys-Meyers telling him to get rid of his cheeks if he wants to play Howl, or ANYONE ELSE EVER.
For this all to work, however, the actors would all have to agree to be in the movies I was casting, so I'd also have to be in charge of making actors be in films (I don't know what job that would be); and then as well I'd have to be in charge of making them play it properly, so really I guess what I'm describing as my calling is The Person With The Final Say Over Everything In Films Ever. And that's not a job at all. So I guess it's best I stick to writing.
For instance, whose idea was it to cast David Thewlis as Lupin? (I do seem to go on and on about Lupin. I really love him, however. Fangs are sexy. I'm going to make Lupin his own category.) If anyone had any sense or judgment they would have cast David Wenham -- just missed it by one surname, blast them! Did you see The Two Towers? David Wenham is practically Lupin in that already, with that exactly-perfect-for-Lupin kind of underneath tortured misery that he knows he can't do anything about and he's just had to learn to live with.
(Aside: HOLY SHIT. He was also the scary white-faced crazy writer in Moulin Rouge that stopped writing the show because adorable Ewan McGregor showed up. Remember that guy? That was David Wenham. You totally didn't know that -- probably because you had no idea who David Wenham was. Well, anyway, that just shows he's versatile and could convert his Faramir tortured misery into Lupin tortured misery.)
Okay, and here's another example. Eric Bana has just been cast as Henry in The Time-Traveler's Wife, which is fair enough and I'm sure he'll be all right, but the thing is that my sister and I had already cast that part and we had given it to Billy Crudup. We were very contented with our selection! Billy Crudup! He is elegant and dangerous and I know that Henry's supposed to be tall but what the hell so is Clare and they've given that part to Rachel McAdams and anyway Billy Crudup acts tall terribly well so it would have been JUST PERFECT. Silly casting people. I was so sad about the Billy Crudup thing that I conceived a desperate desire to read The Time Traveler's Wife again, and the library didn't have it and I was forced to buy it from the Waterstone's on campus. That's what happens when there are casting mistakes: I spend £7.99 and probably stay up all night reading my new book and abjectly weeping.
I am currently in the process (it's a process. it takes a long time. luckily so does preparing to make movies) of casting Greensleeves, one of the best books in all the world and also containing the character that I actually would choose to marry out of all the fictional characters in all the world, including Ramses and John Tregarth and Mr. Rochester (before and after the fire) and Lupin and everyone. Nezabeth, who (curse her!) always wants to marry the same people as I do, could have everyone else we want to marry in the whole world, as long as I got Sherry from Greensleeves. Anyway I have decided that James McAvoy should be him even though he's not tall enough (he is a fencer, however, and a fire-eater which is completely irrelevant but I thought I'd let you know) and now I am working on the other main characters, and it pleases me very much.
A while ago my little sister and I cast Howl's Moving Castle, I believe very successfully, but I've forgotten who was who. We did a really good job. Christian Bale wasn't in it. If I were the casting director for the world, Christian Bale would never work again except in really obnoxious parts with people who have pretentious mouths and irritating voices. And I would send a note to Jonathan Rhys-Meyers telling him to get rid of his cheeks if he wants to play Howl, or ANYONE ELSE EVER.
For this all to work, however, the actors would all have to agree to be in the movies I was casting, so I'd also have to be in charge of making actors be in films (I don't know what job that would be); and then as well I'd have to be in charge of making them play it properly, so really I guess what I'm describing as my calling is The Person With The Final Say Over Everything In Films Ever. And that's not a job at all. So I guess it's best I stick to writing.
Friday, March 2, 2007
The day in review
Things that have made me happy today
1. My professor says “agin” for “against”. Heeheeheehee.
2. The 3rd Marquess of Queensberry, who was also (in case you’re interested) a relation of Lord Alfred Douglas, wretched Bosie who did the sex with Oscar Wilde, was violently insane, and — hee, hee, hee, hee — one time (I really shouldn’t be laughing) he killed a young scullion and roasted him on a spit and ATE HIM. Partly. Until someone found him and made him stop. Yes, this is on the list of things that made me happy today.
3. Cheese. I love cheese. Today I am having a delicious calzone. Calzones are terribly delicious and they are extremely full of cheese and I will eat one! Full of cheese! YUM!
4. Prussia! I totally forgot Prussia existed! But, hey, everyone, remember Prussia? Prussia! It’s like Russia, but with a P! And I think there was one poor heir apparent who like watched his best friend get killed on his father’s orders. Again, yes, this is on the list of things that made me happy today. PRUSSIA! (I feel like a Sesame Street episode.)
5. Queen Victoria liked Negro spirituals, and every year this one black choir from a college in Nashville would come over to England and sing for her.
6. Jane Austen. I like her. She’s funny.
7. PRUSSIA! Remember Prussia? Lovely Prussia!
8. my optimistic certainty, and I’m sorry to bring this up again because I’m tempting the Fates, that Lupin isn’t going to die.
Things that didn’t make me happy today
1. The essay I still have to write by Wednesday.
2. Being an American. I felt really bad about this today because in class today (the same class where the professor says “agin” and tells us about Queen Victoria liking spirituals!) the professor was talking about the American Revolution and how it was a humongous body blow to the country of Britain. And they were crushed and disheartened and they began to doubt themselves. And oh, I just felt so sad and sorry. I hung my head in shame because I felt that I was responsible for crushing the souls of a nation. But, y’know, they were doing taxation without representation. I also felt silly because I couldn’t remember when the American Revolution ended, and I only remembered two facts about the War of 1812 (the stealing people from American ships and the Andrew Jackson leading the Battle of New Orleans victory thing after the war was actually over).
1. My professor says “agin” for “against”. Heeheeheehee.
2. The 3rd Marquess of Queensberry, who was also (in case you’re interested) a relation of Lord Alfred Douglas, wretched Bosie who did the sex with Oscar Wilde, was violently insane, and — hee, hee, hee, hee — one time (I really shouldn’t be laughing) he killed a young scullion and roasted him on a spit and ATE HIM. Partly. Until someone found him and made him stop. Yes, this is on the list of things that made me happy today.
3. Cheese. I love cheese. Today I am having a delicious calzone. Calzones are terribly delicious and they are extremely full of cheese and I will eat one! Full of cheese! YUM!
4. Prussia! I totally forgot Prussia existed! But, hey, everyone, remember Prussia? Prussia! It’s like Russia, but with a P! And I think there was one poor heir apparent who like watched his best friend get killed on his father’s orders. Again, yes, this is on the list of things that made me happy today. PRUSSIA! (I feel like a Sesame Street episode.)
5. Queen Victoria liked Negro spirituals, and every year this one black choir from a college in Nashville would come over to England and sing for her.
6. Jane Austen. I like her. She’s funny.
7. PRUSSIA! Remember Prussia? Lovely Prussia!
8. my optimistic certainty, and I’m sorry to bring this up again because I’m tempting the Fates, that Lupin isn’t going to die.
Things that didn’t make me happy today
1. The essay I still have to write by Wednesday.
2. Being an American. I felt really bad about this today because in class today (the same class where the professor says “agin” and tells us about Queen Victoria liking spirituals!) the professor was talking about the American Revolution and how it was a humongous body blow to the country of Britain. And they were crushed and disheartened and they began to doubt themselves. And oh, I just felt so sad and sorry. I hung my head in shame because I felt that I was responsible for crushing the souls of a nation. But, y’know, they were doing taxation without representation. I also felt silly because I couldn’t remember when the American Revolution ended, and I only remembered two facts about the War of 1812 (the stealing people from American ships and the Andrew Jackson leading the Battle of New Orleans victory thing after the war was actually over).
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
NYAHA!
For those of you who thought it was funny to PERSECUTE me by telling me persistently that Lupin had to die because Wormtail had a silver hand and silver kills werewolfs, YOU ARE WRONG. Lupin is not going to be killed by Wormtail with his silver hand, and I have this straight from the horse’s mouth. Ms. Joanne Rowling has taken the time to personally refute this OBVIOUS MYTH on her website. She says, “Nice idea, clearly predicated on the legend that only a silver bullet can kill a werewolf — but incorrect.” HA. HA. HA.
You know what that means? It means that there is no reason whatsoever to suppose that Lupin is going to die. He’s doing his werewolf thing (poor darling; I want to give him a big hug and take him out for hot chocolate. Tonks too, because even though I’m wildly jealous of her I think it’s totally totally suitable and I’m very happy for them both, bless their fictional hearts), and he’s going to be just fine. There is now no more reason to suppose that Lupin is going to die than to suppose anyone else is going to die; indeed rather less because I am still convinced that JK Rowling has a heart and is going to leave Lupin alive to be a support figure for Harry after all this is over. He is going to be fine, and so is Tonks. I have decided. I will not have Lupin upset any further.
However, I’m sure that Wormtail’s silver hand thing is going to be relevant, and I think it’s going to be relevant in the same way that his Debt to Harry is going to be relevant. (Come dawn of 22 July, I’m going to edit this post and you’ll never be able to prove that I said this, if I turn out to be wrong.) But it will not take down Lupin, and the tenor of her response suggests that it will not take down Wretched Fenrir Greyback either. Oh well.
So yeah. YAY!
(I’m in love with Lupin. So very in love.)
SPOILERS ADDED LATER
BIG SPOILERS
WELL, BIGGISH
Added almost a year later: Oh my God, I killed Lupin. It was me. I posted this in February, which was before JK Rowling finished the book, and she probably decided to kill Lupin and Tonks at the very moment that I wrote this. I murdered them both. I am complete rubbish and also a murderess.
You know what that means? It means that there is no reason whatsoever to suppose that Lupin is going to die. He’s doing his werewolf thing (poor darling; I want to give him a big hug and take him out for hot chocolate. Tonks too, because even though I’m wildly jealous of her I think it’s totally totally suitable and I’m very happy for them both, bless their fictional hearts), and he’s going to be just fine. There is now no more reason to suppose that Lupin is going to die than to suppose anyone else is going to die; indeed rather less because I am still convinced that JK Rowling has a heart and is going to leave Lupin alive to be a support figure for Harry after all this is over. He is going to be fine, and so is Tonks. I have decided. I will not have Lupin upset any further.
However, I’m sure that Wormtail’s silver hand thing is going to be relevant, and I think it’s going to be relevant in the same way that his Debt to Harry is going to be relevant. (Come dawn of 22 July, I’m going to edit this post and you’ll never be able to prove that I said this, if I turn out to be wrong.) But it will not take down Lupin, and the tenor of her response suggests that it will not take down Wretched Fenrir Greyback either. Oh well.
So yeah. YAY!
(I’m in love with Lupin. So very in love.)
SPOILERS ADDED LATER
BIG SPOILERS
WELL, BIGGISH
Added almost a year later: Oh my God, I killed Lupin. It was me. I posted this in February, which was before JK Rowling finished the book, and she probably decided to kill Lupin and Tonks at the very moment that I wrote this. I murdered them both. I am complete rubbish and also a murderess.
Monday, February 5, 2007
How to be a happier person
There’s this excellent bit of the otherwise TOTALLY MISERABLE AND WRETCHED Neil Gaiman short “24 Hours” (it’s the one I told Robyn and Anna not to read because everybody in the diner gets brutally slaughtered and it’s not that necessary to the story arc and you might as well just give it a miss and take my word for it that the whole amulet thing works out and Dream is fine and can carry on having bread thrown at his head (in case you were wondering, I do own that single issue. The bread-throwing one. The really really good one. I have that. It’s mine and I have it. My lovely sister Anna gave it to me.)) where the waitress’s stories “all have happy endings. That’s because she knows where to stop. She’s realized the problem with stories — if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.”
Basically that is my approach to flims and books. My sister Robyn and I have decided there is no point in watching the miserable ends of flims when we can stop them sooner and enjoy them so much more. The classic example is Moulin Rouge, which appears to be designed for people like us. Robyn and I like to watch it right up to when the curtain falls, and then we turn it off. It’s so simple!
Okay, think about it. The real ending is that adorable Ewan McGregor sobs helplessly over beautiful and charming Nicole Kidman’s tuberculosis-ridden corpse and then is probably wretched for the rest of his life. But if we turn it off right when the curtain falls, that doesn’t have to happen! See? It could just be that the doctor was just wrong, and Satine isn’t dying at all! or that she was CURED by the INCREDIBLE JOY she felt at being with Ewan McGregor forever! (That’d cure me of tuberculosis.) And that whole thing at the beginning with Ewan McGregor being all the woman I love is dead, that was just to fool us! Teehee, good one, Baz Luhrman, you totally had us going for a while there! Yep. It’s better that way.
Similarly I don’t necessarily need to watch all of Felicity. If I just watch it up to the end of the second season, imagine how happy I would be! Whereas if I watch the third and fourth seasons, there’s all that stuff with Felicity cheating on Ben and Ben cheating on Felicity and having a KID (don’t they know about condoms? the big stupidheads!), and why would I want that to happen? (I wouldn’t.)
See, there’s an episode of Friends where it turns out that Phoebe’s mother turned off all the sad movies before the sad endings happened, and Phoebe grew up thinking that Old Yeller was a happy movie, and it was like a joke! Why is it a joke? That’s a very sensible idea! That’s what I do! Who needs the stupid dog to die? I stopped reading the end of Where the Red Fern Grows when I was quite young. Why not stop reading Romeo and Juliet right when they come up with The Plan, and assume that it worked?
And some things you really shouldn’t read/watch at all because there is no point at which you can stop and have it be okay. Stop reading Lord of the Flies before you begin. Return City of God to the flim shop/rental place. (Seriously — I saw three minutes of it and in that time two people got shot dead and a girl got raped while her boyfriend was forced to watch. Just skip it.)
Obey me and your life will be better. And don’t get attached to anyone in the Harry Potter books. After July of this year I will let you know whom it’s okay to love. It’s okay to love Lupin. It is okay to love Lupin. HE IS IN LOVE WITH TONKS AND HE IS NOT GOING TO DIE. (she said hysterically)
(Incidentally, I think that Moulin Rouge would have been better if they had made Satine’s death more understated. Have the curtain fall and then have her do the cough thing and Ewan McGregor would turn to look at her anxiously, and then cut back to his older self with the typewriter - they could do second-long shots and done a contrast with the insane joyous clapping of the audience, and then bits of the typewriter Christian bits - that would have been a better way to do it. I think. I mean, I’d still stop the movie with the curtain-fall, but at least it wouldn’t be quite so melodramatic.)
Basically that is my approach to flims and books. My sister Robyn and I have decided there is no point in watching the miserable ends of flims when we can stop them sooner and enjoy them so much more. The classic example is Moulin Rouge, which appears to be designed for people like us. Robyn and I like to watch it right up to when the curtain falls, and then we turn it off. It’s so simple!
Okay, think about it. The real ending is that adorable Ewan McGregor sobs helplessly over beautiful and charming Nicole Kidman’s tuberculosis-ridden corpse and then is probably wretched for the rest of his life. But if we turn it off right when the curtain falls, that doesn’t have to happen! See? It could just be that the doctor was just wrong, and Satine isn’t dying at all! or that she was CURED by the INCREDIBLE JOY she felt at being with Ewan McGregor forever! (That’d cure me of tuberculosis.) And that whole thing at the beginning with Ewan McGregor being all the woman I love is dead, that was just to fool us! Teehee, good one, Baz Luhrman, you totally had us going for a while there! Yep. It’s better that way.
Similarly I don’t necessarily need to watch all of Felicity. If I just watch it up to the end of the second season, imagine how happy I would be! Whereas if I watch the third and fourth seasons, there’s all that stuff with Felicity cheating on Ben and Ben cheating on Felicity and having a KID (don’t they know about condoms? the big stupidheads!), and why would I want that to happen? (I wouldn’t.)
See, there’s an episode of Friends where it turns out that Phoebe’s mother turned off all the sad movies before the sad endings happened, and Phoebe grew up thinking that Old Yeller was a happy movie, and it was like a joke! Why is it a joke? That’s a very sensible idea! That’s what I do! Who needs the stupid dog to die? I stopped reading the end of Where the Red Fern Grows when I was quite young. Why not stop reading Romeo and Juliet right when they come up with The Plan, and assume that it worked?
And some things you really shouldn’t read/watch at all because there is no point at which you can stop and have it be okay. Stop reading Lord of the Flies before you begin. Return City of God to the flim shop/rental place. (Seriously — I saw three minutes of it and in that time two people got shot dead and a girl got raped while her boyfriend was forced to watch. Just skip it.)
Obey me and your life will be better. And don’t get attached to anyone in the Harry Potter books. After July of this year I will let you know whom it’s okay to love. It’s okay to love Lupin. It is okay to love Lupin. HE IS IN LOVE WITH TONKS AND HE IS NOT GOING TO DIE. (she said hysterically)
(Incidentally, I think that Moulin Rouge would have been better if they had made Satine’s death more understated. Have the curtain fall and then have her do the cough thing and Ewan McGregor would turn to look at her anxiously, and then cut back to his older self with the typewriter - they could do second-long shots and done a contrast with the insane joyous clapping of the audience, and then bits of the typewriter Christian bits - that would have been a better way to do it. I think. I mean, I’d still stop the movie with the curtain-fall, but at least it wouldn’t be quite so melodramatic.)
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Running the gamut of emotions
So I was just checking out what was going on in the world of letters, and the first thing I espied was that the seventh Harry Potter book (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, please don’t kill Lupin, Ms. Rowling) has been given an official release date of 21 July 2007. Which means I’ll be home to get it! It was way less cool getting the sixth book in England, although that may have been because I was in Croyden at the time, and Croyden is rubbish, than it was getting the fifth one in America. I am totally going to hit up one of those all-night bookstore Harry Potter extravaganzas. God wants me to.
(When the fifth book came out, I kept running into people I knew at Bongs & Noodles, and they were all trying to play it off like they didn’t care about the Harry Potter book and were just killing time until their movie started playing at the cinema next door. Whatever. Embrace it, guys.)
Well, so I got super excited and made a joyous squeak of elation and bounced up and down in my chair for a while, and I was all set for today to be an Official Good Day, and then there was this other thing in the news, which is that Molly Ivins, brilliant liberal Texan columnist, died yesterday.
Molly Ivins was my most favorite columnist ever, and I was sort of hoping she’d live forever (or at least long enough to see a damn Democrat elected back to the Presidency). She was 62, which was way too young. Cancer sucks. I’m even in a Facebook group that says so; and my mother has a pin that says so. Our rubbish newspaper at home is just going to be that much less good now, having been deprived of both Ms. Ivins’s column and the stroppy letters to the editor from angry conservatives. She was a very cool lady.
(When the fifth book came out, I kept running into people I knew at Bongs & Noodles, and they were all trying to play it off like they didn’t care about the Harry Potter book and were just killing time until their movie started playing at the cinema next door. Whatever. Embrace it, guys.)
Well, so I got super excited and made a joyous squeak of elation and bounced up and down in my chair for a while, and I was all set for today to be an Official Good Day, and then there was this other thing in the news, which is that Molly Ivins, brilliant liberal Texan columnist, died yesterday.
Molly Ivins was my most favorite columnist ever, and I was sort of hoping she’d live forever (or at least long enough to see a damn Democrat elected back to the Presidency). She was 62, which was way too young. Cancer sucks. I’m even in a Facebook group that says so; and my mother has a pin that says so. Our rubbish newspaper at home is just going to be that much less good now, having been deprived of both Ms. Ivins’s column and the stroppy letters to the editor from angry conservatives. She was a very cool lady.
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