Andare, Partire, Tornare


Where the buffalo roam? Hope they have plenty of Mt. Dew

Lemme tell ya, one liter of Mountain Dew does not make up for a sleepless night. And by sleepless, I mean exactly that - I went to bed at one thirty, tossed and turned until four, and finally said, "The hell with it," and got up and started my day. Which basically means I took a long shower, a leisurely breakfast, playtime with the cats and the dog, and then an early start to work (hey, an early start to work means an early end to work. And if I'm going to collapse around two, it's better that I can legally go home at three, ne ce pas?). I passed Bemo coming in from his overnight shift as I was toodling out, and we exchanged greetings, he waved a pack of ribs at me (got to take home the remains of the catered food from Red Hot And Blue that the football people didn't all eat) and wished me a happy day at work. A happy day that was sure to be hell, since I was sleepless, but anyway...

So I grabbed a liter of Mt. Dew and chugged it for most of the morning, while doing some scanning projects. Around ten, I got a happy surprise - a call from Cherbear and her friend AtlantaBoi, who was taking the long route from Atlanta to Miami. Yes, by way of D.C. Cherbear is a rabid roadtripper, and apparently this rubs off on some of her friends. Then again, AtlantaBoi has just been working in Alaska on a boat, so maybe the freedom of the open road was calling him, yes? Cherbear and AtlantaBoi swung by and picked me up, and we went off to lunch at Cosi, and toured the Renwick Museum, and then swung through my museum just for grins. The Renwick has a cool exhibit on an artist who painted a lot of portraits of American Indians, and they had a tepee and buffalo hides laid out on the chairs. So now I smell kind of like buffalo. I took a little too much time for lunch, so I will not be able to depart at three on the dot, but ah, well. It was worth it to see them both.

Part of my sleeplessness last night was too much brain activity, no doubt brought on by the odd double-header of movies Bemo and I watched before I tried to go to bed. We saw Black Hawk Down and then Gosford Park, I don't know what we were thinking. My brain hurts. We were in such combat mode from Black Hawk Down that when Gosford Park started, there was a scene with a car pulled to the side of the road. Another car appears in the background, and both Bemo and I tense, expecting a blazing gun battle. Because, y'know, that's what we had been watching for the past two hours. Anyway, I enjoyed both movies tremendously - although saying you *enjoyed* Black Hawk Down isn't really correct. It was an interesting movie, and a beautifully shot one, and it made me think a lot. Of course, it also overstimulated my poor little neurons, but then trying to follow every word of Gosford Park didn't help either. I understand the British accent pretty well, but this director apparently loves having his dialogue very fast paced, and so it was a strain to hear sentences that were being tossed off in an undertone as somebody else was talking over them. We were also having trouble telling all the Upstairs women apart, as they all had identical marcel waves, identical figures, and identical languid tones. Made it difficult to remember if this one was the common little wife, or that one was the slutty noblewoman. I think I'll watch it again with the closed captioning on, seriously. But damn, whossisface that plays Parks - rrrrrrrroooowwww. Yum.

For tonight - or more realistically tomorrow - I have A Room With A View to watch. And Bemo has Kung Pow: Enter The Fist. So we'll both be happy. I'll be watching lovers in Florence and Julian Sands' naked ass, and Bemo will watch a kung fu fight between a man and a cow. Ain't movies grand?

2:29 p.m. - 2002-08-19


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