is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Bullets of Rain Are Falling. Plus: Television, Wild Turkeys.
Bullets of Rain Are Falling. Plus: Television, Wild Turkeys.
It�s not snowing anymore. Now it�s raining. Relentlessly. And I�m a Californian, so I find rain to be an affront to all my plans.
Normally I like rain when I�m at home and I don�t have to go anywhere. The sound if its gentle pitter-pattering outside is comforting. However, the slate roof of the Joseph Smith house renders all but the least rainy of rains as something much more weighty than a gentle pitter-patter! It makes life in my apartment, as I think I�ve said before, seem like life lived in a basement beneath a shooting gallery. Oh, the month of April is going to be long, I imagine. (I hear that April is a month of rain. The cruelest month, truly.)
The other night I found myself using the rain-noise-making machine to drown out the sound of the actual rain on the slate roof! Now I can't sleep without irony, it seems. It is horrendously loud and distracting, that rain.
However, the upside of it all is that it is warmer! The air is crisp instead of stinging, and the sun is brighter, days warmer, nights not so bitter. Coat-wise I have switched from the life-saving and cute boyfriend-parka to a back-and-forth dating bounce between wonderful asymmetrical-zip triple-five-soul coat and lovely tweed-coat-that-enrages-Evany. (The coat enrages her because she found it at Loehmann�s, but it was a bit too small for her. I was there in the no-privacy dressing room with her, so I asked her whether I could try it on, and then I asked her whether she would get mad if I bought it. And she said no, she would not be mad. But of course every time she sees me wear it, it reminds her of her misfortune. The thing about the coat is, after I bought it I occasionally had buyer�s remorse, because even though it is way-cute, it was expensive, and just wasn�t that well suited for San Francisco weather. It was always either too warm or not warm enough. But here on the east coast it makes a perfect fall and spring coat. Happy Ending.)
Last week Fountains of Wayne played the Hollies on American Dreams. Chris Collingwood wore a dorky bowl-cut wig, and it was cute. Plus the version they recorded of the Bus Stop song is really good. Though I now blame them for having put the song in my head for a week straight. The show is not so good. I stopped watching right after the appearance of the Hollies of Wayne (which, thankfully, was only about 10 minutes into the program).
Speaking of television and unhappiness, I�m a bit unhappy about the Americanization of the British sit-com The Office. On the one hand I�m too attached to the actors who play the �real� version of the characters, so these all seem like pale imitations. On the other, Steve Carell, who is amazing, simply isn�t capable of being as unctuously hateful as Ricky Gervais. But it might not be that the show is bad. Its no-laugh-track and funny pacing might make it like Sports Night, which I loved (and so of course it was cancelled). Maybe I just can�t appreciate it because it is a copy of something I already love.
In other news, I am really happy about all the episodes of Scrubs that have been playing lately while the networks recycle old episodes because it isn�t sweeps time. I arrived at watching this show late because I didn�t get NBC in San Francisco. Anyway, I like the cute friendship relationships that get portrayed on that show. And it�s also surprisingly funny.
Topic change: The other day in the faculty dining room I was eating a veggie burger with fries while revising a lecture I was going to give. I always eat my burgers and sandwiches with knife and fork because I am a freak. But at one point I looked down and realized that I was trying to carve my burger bite with a fork and my purple pen. Because I am not only a freak, but also a tremendous dork.
And then! Wild Turkey Update. Week before last, when I was talking to Stephen, he doubted whether icicles could ever kill wild turkeys. He does tend to doubt. He is a regular Cartesian in that regard. However, as he was talking about how the icicles probably don�t fall straight down, that they bounce on the screens or walls and break up and such, I realized that, even if a wild turkey was impaled by a big sharp icicle, I would never wander into the backyard and find the dramatic scene of a turkey corpse riven by an icicle, because the turkey�s body heat would melt the icicle post-impaling. Figuring out what actually killed the turkey would require a madcap CSI episode to take place in my backyard. During that episode the CSIs Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders would both ask me on a date, and I would, for once, go out on dates with more than one person at once. Because this is fiction anyway, right? (Sorry, I'm just not into having a date with Catherine Willows or Sara Sidle. Though I imagine that Gil Grissom would all of a sudden appear, unexplained, at various moments during my dates with the CSI men, just as he used to appear, unexplained, in every single scene of the show.) Anyway, the icicle would melt because of the turkey-body-heat. Turkey-riven-by-icicle as dramatic-scene is pure Andy Goldsworthy material: it is a scene built to disappear.
10:08 p.m. - March 29, 2005
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