Burn Notice premiered its second season and my TV is not working (I’m waiting for a satellite hook up.) So I watched it on the net. I figured I was going to watch it another three or four times anyway, so it wasn’t awful that I was watching it first on the computer. It’s not the best episode they’ve ever done, but they had a lot of ground to cover with Michael coming back two days after the season one finale and his loved ones—mom, Fiona, Sam—a little annoyed to see him so fast and in trouble again. It’s still the best TV show since Buffy. The premiere and all of Season One is on Hulu: http://www.hulu.com/videos/search?query=Burn+Notice. You should go.
The triumph of hope over experience: I really want to see The Mummy 3 (http://www.robcohenthemummy.com/video.php) The second one was terrible but so was the second Indiana Jones. And this one has Jet Li. And Michele Yeoh. And a dragon. And I loved the first Mummy. I’m a sucker for this stuff. But Rachel Weiss is not back as Evelyn, and that always throws me off. “Who is that strange woman and what have you done with Evie?” Since they got everybody else back, I’m assuming she didn’t want to play this time. Rachel, how could you?
I had to have a tree cut down (see satellite problem above) and I felt awful about it. Big green leafy thing right behind my house. But I’ve been without TV for three weeks now, and nature lost. So they came and cut it down and my contractor came in and said, “You owe Direct TV.” Turns out the damn thing was hollow and would have fallen on the house in the next year. Suddenly, I have no guilt at all. And my view is vastly improved. A win for everybody. Except the tree, and it was dead anyway.
We filled two swimming pools in the back yard and they got plenty of use, but now the kids are gone and they’re just sitting there, forlorn, a dragon full of water and a big round thing full of more water and sea creature beach balls. Very sad. Even sadder: I have to figure out how to direct that water down the hill and into the river instead of into my already sodden grass. You never think of these things when you’re putting the water in. Especially if two little girls are standing there in their bathing suits asking, “Is it done yet?” while you’re turning blue from blowing up the beach balls.
I’ve completely lost my sense of smell. Weirdest thing ever. I’ve tried sniffing bottles of cider vinegar and all I get is a burning sensation, no smell at all. The horrible cat food my cat loves, same thing. I can’t smell things burning or if the cat pees in the shower or a storm coming in. I wouldn’t have put losing my sense of smell up at the top of “Things I Wouldn’t Want To Lose,” but it turns out, it’s pretty essential for every day living. And eating. I tried to eat French Toast the other day—I love French Toast—and had to spit it out because once you can’t taste the eggs and the cinnamon and the syryp, it just feels like mushy bread. Very upsetting. Waffles still feel right, though. Now if I could just smell and taste them . . .
Hellboy 2: The Golden Army (“Good never looked so bad”) is out now and getting raves. Guillermo del Toro could film his dog playing in the backyard and I’d go, and I loved the first Hellboy (I own three DVD copies of it, no I don’t know how that happened). But the last time I saw a film in a theater was About A Boy (I have a sad cloistered life), and I don’t’ really have the time to go. Still I may brave the theaters for this one. I’ve still got HVAC guys and stone guys and the electrician, the plumber, and the contractor in my house and at least I’d have some privacy in the theater. Either they get done and out soon, or we start having family dinners.
I knew about the Berlin Airlift the way you know about any event in history, sort of an “Oh, yeah, I know what that is,” but the AP did two wonderful pieces on it, smart diplomacy that happened because one guy had a heart: “Berlin Airlift a Cold War turning point” and “Berlin Airlift: Germans look back _ and forward”. That’s the kind of thing that if you put it in a book, cynics would sneer, “Oh, like that would work.” Well, it worked. International relations done right because people thought about people instead of tactics.
Tim Burton is going to direct Alice in Wonderland for a 2010 release. That’s two years to wait. I’m hoping he does it in stop action like The Nightmare Before Christmas and The Corpse Bride, but I loved his Sleepy Hollow, too, so I’ll take it any way I can get it. It must be tough being Tim Burton doing Alice in Wonderland, though, because of course the assumption is that he’ll do the best Alice ever. At least that’s my assumption.
George Carlin said, “The very existence of flame-throwers, proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, ‘You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, I’m just not close enough to get the job done.’” I think it was more, “I want to set those people over there on fire, and I don’t want to get close enough that they can retaliate.” Or maybe that’s just the flamethrowers on the internet. And speaking of them, why is it always the flamers who say to the people who protest their abuse, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”? It’s like they’re saying, “I have a right to scorch you but you don’t have the right to complain about it.” And if you leave, then they jeer because you can’t take it. “Coward.” I don’t like them but I don’t have to live with them, so they’re not a big deal. But just bleah on flamers, that’s what I say.
I love great music videos, and this one from Texas is my fave (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7A_bJFZNXE ): Alan Rickman doing the tango with Sharleen Spiteri at a BP. I sent it to Krissie months ago when she was depressed, and then for some reason just sent it to her again and got an e-mail back that said, “WHY HAVEN’T I SEEN THIS BEFORE?” Sigh. But it is amazing how romantic and hot the video is even though I have no idea what the story line means. One of the commentors, probably a guy, looked at it and said, “But he’s old.” Honey, some things are ageless and Alan Rickman is one of them.
Another writer just told me that if I don’t get my solo book done pretty soon, the publishing world is going to forget who I am. I thought, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” First of all, publishing isn’t a person with a memory, it’s a game. Second, publishing seems to remember people like Margaret Mitchell and Agatha Christie and they haven’t written anything for years, the slackers. Third, who cares? It’s about the writing, not about playing some dumb fame game. You know, you start thinking about publishing, and you just get depressed and angry and blocked. I pretend it isn’t there until I have to deal with taglines and book covers, and then I’m only dealing with St. Jenderlin, so that’s fun, too. Caring about publishing is a one way ticket to insanity. And since I’m already there, I don’t need the ticket, thanks.
Speaking of which, the cover and tagline for D&G are up at the D&G website. I think we’re going to do a raffle for the winner of the tagline contest, but Lani is handling that. Because she remembers things.
It’s been a beautiful day here. Hope yours was wonderful, too.
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