Archive for May, 2005

May 27th, 2005

» belief

Yesterday I waffled, wondering if it was worth the drive through the interminable 494 construction, worth the uncertain wait at the theater, worth the potential disappointment. In the end hope won out. Hope and Jo, and knowing that going down there just to have dinner and hang out for a bit would be enough, even if we couldn’t get in to see the movie.

I have this pretty little bracelet my sister gave me ages ago, black cord with two little amber beads, a slim charm — one side stamped with a dragon, one a phoenix — and a tiny brass-colored bell, which is meant to grant wishes each time it rings. I thought a bit of good luck wouldn’t go amiss, so I wore it.

After a leisurely dinner at Maggiano’s (farfalle with asparagus, spinach, and sundried tomatoes followed by berry sorbet, punctuated charmingly by visits from Chad, who was working), we headed down to the theater. After a minute of standing uncertainly and staring at the line and whispering furtively about just how to go about procuring extra tickets, we decided to just ask. So I walked up to the last segment of the line and asked no one in particular if Excuse me, but did anyone have extra tickets?

‘I have one,’ said a seated woman. And I sort of looked at her, thinking she’d probably misheard me, or I’d misheard her, or something. She was engrossed in a pair of knitting needles and a slim pretty thread of mottled blue yarn, something complicated and delicate going on between all that and her careful fingers. I babbled a little, and said we were going to see if we could find another, and could we — I didn’t want to say put it on hold or anything, but it’s what I meant.

Anyhow, we stepped a few yards further up the line, and since it’d been so successful the first time, I tried my question again. And a pretty blonde girl said We have one. They’d come down from Winnipeg, and their third traveling companion had woken up feeling ill, and not at all up for the seven hour drive.

And this is how Jo and I came to see the special advanced screening of Serenity.

I won’t say anything further about the movie, except it was wonderful and I can’t wait to see it again, and I am ecstatic that I will get to show Firefly to Jo this summer (and so watch it again myself). And that Ron Glass (Book) turned up at the screening, and he was gracious and warm and laid-back, and intimated that there might be more in the future.

So today I’m motoring about on five hours of sleep, feeling quietly joyful about life, and luck, and believing.

May 25th, 2005

» today

Bryce and I went to the lake. During lunch Bryce mistakenly left Paulo the squirrel in charge of Maurice the polar bear, and Paulo drowned Gary Coleman, whose ghost then found an axe…

God I’m loving this Yahoo music thing.

May 24th, 2005

» falling in love

Kim mentioned wanting to fall in love during her upcoming trip to London, and it made me remember everything I gave my heart to in England. The faintly-green-trunked trees. The politeness of dogs. Delicate yellow flowers scattered up a gently-sloped hill. An old woman at an outdoor market walking through a Saturday morning rain in a little plastic cap. A boy tracing a tiny finger through the condensation on a coffee house window. A ticket-taker on the train whose coat was too big and had shifted aside to reveal the slope where his shoulder met his neck. Waking to find the cat curled in the middle of the bed, having crept in through the open window sometime during the night. Low grey skies over Liverpool.

May 20th, 2005

» ‘out walking in the rain’

having nothing to do with anything

The second time around was harder, I think. Goodbyes are always like that, though.

I’ve had a bad few days. Still a little unwell. Feeling glass-hearted. Sick with wishing. Silent, silent, and my hands having forgotten what little language they once knew. Gesturing uselessly.

Tonight I can remember only the sign for death, and the hard grateful tug of the thumb from the chin.

May 9th, 2005

» rather be

on Clearwater Beach