greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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brevity (or not)

I am in a sort of hiding for the moment. I should reemerge somewhere near or just past Tuesday. All those responsible for getting messages to me have been informed. Here, the weather has turned marvelous, and I am devoting myself, for the moment, to the sun and to healing some of the harm the winter did to me. I'm only saying this here because journal entries may be scarce for a couple more days.

Set me aflame and cast me free,
Away, you wretched world of tethers.
Through the endless nights and days,
I have never wanted more.


We've been needing a big Coen Brothers fix, and last night we got it. Though my original plan was to rent Miller's Crossing and The Big Lebowski, my two favourite Los Bros Coen films, Spooky reminded me that we still had seen neither The Ladykillers nor Intolerable Cruelty. So we rented them instead. Both are superb. Tom Hanks was at his very best in The Ladykillers, and it was neat to catch, in the credits, that the Henson Creature Shop did effects, the cat Pickles and that horrid dog that Mr. Pancake gives mouth-to-mouth. Intolerable Cruelty was a subtler thing, but charming and somewhat adorable (don't let those two words, charming and aborable scare you off; keep in mind that I have used both to describe various species of insects and mollusks). Clearly, the Coen's were aiming for a sort of "screwball" comedy that saw its heyday in the thirties and forties, and I felt like I kept catching bits of Jimmy Stewert and Cary Grant in George Clooney's expressions and body language. All together very nice, though I do wish that Nicole Kidman might have been cast in the role of Marylin Rexroth instead of Catherine Zeta-Jones. Still, it's a small complaint.

I had a Nebari dream last night, the first since the harrowing one back on October 6th, 2004. It was nothing so elbaorate, not what I can recall. I was a Nebari woman, possibly Nar'eth, possibly Tai'lah, possibly someone else, standing on the shore of a sea, watching the small waves break against a black and grey pebbly beach. It looked like places I've been in northern California or Oregon, wherever it was. Behind me, there was a great forest. I was waiting on something, but didn't know what. I knew, or had known, but couldn't remember. A ship raced across the sky, maybe a thousand feet above me, followed by two others. They sounded like gigantic metal birds. I bent down and picked up one of the shells washing back in forth in the surf. It was violet and red and perfectly octagonal with a hinge about its middle. I put it back in the water and sat down on the beach. And that's all that I can recall.

Okay. Hiding. There's sun on the front porch with my name on it, and I've still not had breakfast.
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