Lilith Saintcrow

First of all, here’s an interview with Guillermo del Toro, director of Pan’s Labyrinth. (Just listening to him talking about the Spanish Civil War gives me shivers.) It’s a beautiful interview, very worth listening to. He talks about naming insects, loving monsters, and getting exorcised by his grandmother. He calls Frankenstein a beautiful metaphor (almost Miltonian) for teenage awkwardness.

It’s official. I now find this man unbearably hawt. I may have to add him next to Noam Chomsky as totally, incredibly, intellectually and hawt. It’s true what the Selkie says–geeks try harder, and they’re hotter.

Yesterday was a horrible day. You know the type of day when you wake up, open your eyes, and think, this isn’t going to end well. And the instant you get out of bed, you know you’re right. It was so bad I didn’t even want to cook. I did end up making a cake, which the pan grabbed and wouldn’t let go, so it was torn-up. I ended up calling the DHM and saying, “Guess what? You’re bringing home Mexican tonight, because I can’t cook.”

Bless his pointy little head. His response? “Sure, baby. Whatever you need.”

Add him to the list of hawtness. *grin*

I finally ended up going out to the track, doing eight laps and running for the last bit of it. I needed that. There’s something about feet pounding pavement, breath catching in the throat, cold air smashing like wine against the palate, the entire body running and alive, that manages to shake out all the badness.

Still, it took The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (love that Bogart) and a huge helping of Monty Python before I felt really okay again, and by then it was time for bed. My feeling, on laying down, was complete gratefulness that it was finally over and I could start again tomorrow.

I suppose I am an optimist. I was confident, just like Annie and Scarlett O’Hara, that tomorrow would be better. And so far, I’m right…but I’m cautious. I think it’ll take at least another jolt of coffee before I really think I’ve escaped.

Good luck, Readers. I hope your day turns out well.

Okay, boys and girls. Time for Cool Stuff.

Thsi morning I got an email from the Selkie bearing this link. It seems that every once in a while a fellow LJer will go through several thousand Very Bad Potterverse Fanfic Synopses and present her findings to us. If you’re a Potter fan, or if you had no idea how big the Potterverse has become, or if you’d like to laugh until your intestines feel sore, by all means go and read. Among my favorites are the “Stiff Dink” and the “Dead Dumbledore.”

You’ll see what I mean. Enjoy.

Next cool thing: when we went to Cinetopia to see Pan’s Labyrinth, there was something amazing before the show. It was a cellist, playing over a drone. Now I love Cinetopia because I like to be spoiled, but the cellist was really fantastic. His name’s Adam Hurst, and I just bought both his CDs off CDBaby. You know I’m all about the music, and for some reason Japhrimel just started talking like nobody’s business while listening to this guy’s music before the show. That kind of Muse crack doesn’t come along very often, so “grab it while you can” is my motto. It’s like Azam Ali, gorgeous ambient stuff.

The cellist himself appears to be hideously shy and uncomfortable with eyes on him unless he’s behind his instrument, which just makes him cute as a button. As someone with a terrific, mind-numbing fear of public speaking, I understand. Maybe I’ll do a post on public speaking one of these days. Apparently people would rather die than speak publicly, which puts politicians in a whole new category of “quite possibly not human.”

Last really cool thing: I’m reading Joe Meno’s Hairstyles of the Damned. It’s one of those books that remind me how glad I am I never have to deal with high school again. I wouldn’t be a teen again if you PAID me. The angst, the fear, the not knowing who you are…and your fellow carnivorous teens, of course, most of them as uncertain as you and maddened by the blood in the water.

Monk, you loaned me this book, and I can see why.

They sent me a form after I graduated, asking about my plans and if I ever intended to come back to a high school reunion. I believe what I wrote was along the lines of:

Hell no. That was the worst time in my life and I am so glad it’s over, and I didn’t like these people the first time around. What makes you think ten years will change my mind?

Which pretty much sums up how I feel about the whole deal. There is ONE person I’m still in tenuous contact with from my high-school days, and we were better friends to each other than our ages would have led people to believe. One. Person. Out of how many I went to school with? I loathed junior high and high school, not the least because we had come back to America and I was suffering severe culture shock. I mean, it took me months to refer to chips as “fries” and crisps as “chips.” I still slip sometimes and people give me that quizzical look. Ugh.

So. No high-school reunions for the Lili. Why would I want to be reminded of that place? It was horrible, painful, degrading, and about the only thing I learned between those hallowed walls was how to take a punch. The “education” didn’t even deserve the name, despite some motivated teachers (like Mme. P*****c, the French goddess) I was given very little in the way of grist for the active mill of my mind. If I hadn’t already been in the habit of rigorous study in subjects of my choice it might have gone very badly indeed.

Anyway. At least it’s a fast read. It’s as close to high school as I ever want to get. It reminds me of how glad I am to be (kind of) grown up, and how little I’m looking forward to seeing my babies go through that particular battle. The only awful thing about having kids is wanting to protect them so badly and sometimes being unable to.

Off I go to hit the treadmill, dear Readers. Have a happy Tuesday!

What a weekend. I was idiotically tired yesterday, having had an attack of insomnia Saturday night that left me gasping for air, completely winded. This was not the fault of the movie, mind you. It was merely stress.

Enough of that. Ladies and gentlemen, Pan’s Labyrinth.

I don’t care what you have to do. Sell the family silver and drive a hundred miles, pack your lunch and cancel that dinner you’ve been putting off anyway. The point is, drop everything and Go. See. This. Movie. It’s in Spanish with subtitles, so it’s not going to be playing everywhere, but this movie is worth at least a tank of gas, admission, and popcorn to see. Guillermo del Toro has struck gold. There is not a single wasted scene or line in this movie. It is soaked with beauty and terror, peril and wondrousness.

(more…)

My post for the week is up over at The Midnight Hour, titled Life Doesn’t Stop For Writing. You can tell I’m a bit testy lately.

Last night at about seven I got the unholy urge to see a movie. “Do you mind if I go to a late movie?” I asked the DHM.

“Of course not. Go and have fun,” he replies, distractedly. He’s working on some design for a pier or something.

I put the ticket on hold (Fandango is my friend) and find out I’ve missed everything but the ten-fifteen showing. Which means I settle down and write while the kids play cards (or the Teen and the Princess play cards while the Little Prince shouts “Look at me! Look at me, Mom! Look at me, everyone!” while he stands on a stepstool in his Spiderman hooded sweatshirt.

After a while everyone under 18 is in bed and I’m putting my shoes on. “I think I’ve got a touch of cabin fever,” I announce.

The DHM snorts. “I knew that.”

Damn men, thinking they know everything.

I manfully restrain from any violence and hie myself hence. I went and saw Curse of the Golden Flower. It was two hours long, with no little people in the audience. I didn’t realize how jumpy and disturbed I was until halfway through.

Nobody was screaming for attention. Nothing was on fire or broken. The world hadn’t stopped.

It was very strange.

I came home and poured out another two thousand words in a couple of uninterrupted hours. I would have done more, too, because the house was quiet. But when you wake up with your face in your laptop, it’s time to quit. I hope I didn’t drool on the keyboard.

Anyway, I’ll review Golden Flower next week, if I remember to. Bottom line: Zhang Yimou. Twists, turns, ambiguity, soap-opera drama, and rich oversaturated color. This movie cost $45 million, and is well worth nine bucks to see just for the Muse crack alone. The Wiki is pretty interesting too.

Have a great weekend, Readers! I’m off to poke at the fifth Valentine book some more. We just had the laserifle in the cargo hold scene, and the betrayals are numbering four so far. It’s been a good couple of days.

Oh. My. God. Snagged from Cherie Priest this morning: Bruce Campbell’s Old Spice commercial.

Oh yes. My world has been officially rocked now. Like a big rocking thing.

Also rocking my world: I think Pan’s Labyrinth is opening in my area tomorrow. woot woot! Must go see with Selkie ASAP!

Last thing rocking my world: another 2K words yesterday. The betrayals continue apace, Leander is just about to show up with his trusty laserifle and the news that no, he’s not working for the Good Guys. Bwahahahaha!

Not in the rocking-world category but pretty cool: read in the NY Times yesterday that Barack Obama is considering a run for the presidency. I feel a jolt of 60’s-Kennedy-mania-esque excitement at the prospect. Someone in The Economist pointed out that Republicans would no doubt like to be matched against him, so they can hammer on his “inexperience.” He is, after all, only 45 and hasn’t been a Washington powermonger before. I’d say this is a good thing–do we really want more of the same old nasty slimy boy’s club?

And to those that say, “well, he might split the Democratic vote!” I’d reply, what, we’re not supposed to vote for whoever we think can best do the job anymore? When did our presidential elections become a matter of the lesser evil? What’s so bad about voting for the guy we think would be best for the job or representing us to the rest of the world?

Let’s not even talk about the 2000 and 2004 election shenanigans, all right? Else I might lose my cool, and that’s NEVER pretty.

Do we realize what we’ve got here? A woman (Hillary Clinton) and an African-American (Obama) both have a shot at running for President. There’s a female Speaker of the House. OMG. It’s so cool. I just wonder why it took so bloody long. Grrr.

Last thing, not quite rocking my world but pretty cool nonetheless. We got the World of Warcraft expansion yesterday. The Sullen Teen was so excited. His eyes were as big as a five-year-old’s on Christmas. He thanked me several times…before ignoring the existence of the rest of us and playing for five solid hours.

I call that a happy kid. Bless Amazon and the UPS man, for they brought us joy.

Oh, also last night? The Mormons came by for dinner. They left just when the discussion was getting good, but at least they both had a decent dinner–more than one bowl of smoked-gouda-and-chicken Two-Day Chili. With garlic bread and sourdough, I might add. Feeding the hungry and gently coaching the narrow, that’s me.