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Catching up...
Nov. 15th, 2002 04:47 pmI felt reasonably okay when I went to the ham breakfast this morning, but soon after arriving at the store, I started to ache. Finally, I started to shiver, so I went home. I slept for a few hours. Galina came by and gave me a bottle of some homeopathic preparation that tastes like the bottom of a septic tank, dissolved in a little alcohol. My eyes still ache, and I feel lousy.
Sasha is missing. She took off yesterday morning when I let her out upon rising, and never came back. Drew and I called the humane society, but nobody has turned the dog in. That alone, besides whatever it is that is physically bothering me, was enough to put me in a foul mood.
The film Birthday Girl, with Nicole Kidman and Ben Chaplin, arrived from Netflix while I was in Atlanta. I started to watch it a couple of nights ago, but could not sustain interest in the plot (I turned it off just after the doorbell brought visitors during Nadia's birthday party). I decided to give it another try last night, and managed to watch it all the way through.
It's not that the film was boring, it wasn't. It was just that I had very little sympathy for Chaplin's character, and it was painfully clear that Nadia was prepared to do whatever it took to stay in England. Once the "action" started, however, the film was mildly entertaining.
What I cannot fathom were the remarks made by some Russian acquaintances in Houston. I recall one of them saying how, after watching the film, her husband emerged from the movie house looking at her in a new way, and now I wonder: what new way was that? One of the film's "deep" themes, that of "What do you expect of a mail-order bride?" may make sense in a Hollyweird kind of way, and may even apply to John and Nadia's case, but fails in light of the long history of human relations. We, as free-thinking Americans may smirk at the idea of arranged marriages, but it's an idea that still holds sway in many parts of the world, and likely continues to do so because, in general, such arrangements appear to work (at least, in the sense that "marriage-for-love" works, too).
But I am getting wa-a-ay too philosophical, and likely don't know what I'm talking about.
Upon rising from my sick sleep, I watched another Netflix DVD, titled Italian for Beginners, a Danish film. I found it more entertaining than Birthday Girl, and I found myself rooting for the characters in the film. I am looking forward to the arrival of an old WW-II flick titled A Walk in the Sun, which I must've watched around a million times when I was a kid, along with Cyrano de Bergerac.
The phone had been quiet this week, until this morning, which offered a job due in a week. Another call came in while I was sleeping, but the job had been assigned by the time I called back.
I feel myself sinking again as I type this. I am backspacing every couple of keystrokes to correct an apparent inability to type right now. I think I'll go back to sleep.
Cheers...
Sasha is missing. She took off yesterday morning when I let her out upon rising, and never came back. Drew and I called the humane society, but nobody has turned the dog in. That alone, besides whatever it is that is physically bothering me, was enough to put me in a foul mood.
The film Birthday Girl, with Nicole Kidman and Ben Chaplin, arrived from Netflix while I was in Atlanta. I started to watch it a couple of nights ago, but could not sustain interest in the plot (I turned it off just after the doorbell brought visitors during Nadia's birthday party). I decided to give it another try last night, and managed to watch it all the way through.
It's not that the film was boring, it wasn't. It was just that I had very little sympathy for Chaplin's character, and it was painfully clear that Nadia was prepared to do whatever it took to stay in England. Once the "action" started, however, the film was mildly entertaining.
What I cannot fathom were the remarks made by some Russian acquaintances in Houston. I recall one of them saying how, after watching the film, her husband emerged from the movie house looking at her in a new way, and now I wonder: what new way was that? One of the film's "deep" themes, that of "What do you expect of a mail-order bride?" may make sense in a Hollyweird kind of way, and may even apply to John and Nadia's case, but fails in light of the long history of human relations. We, as free-thinking Americans may smirk at the idea of arranged marriages, but it's an idea that still holds sway in many parts of the world, and likely continues to do so because, in general, such arrangements appear to work (at least, in the sense that "marriage-for-love" works, too).
But I am getting wa-a-ay too philosophical, and likely don't know what I'm talking about.
Upon rising from my sick sleep, I watched another Netflix DVD, titled Italian for Beginners, a Danish film. I found it more entertaining than Birthday Girl, and I found myself rooting for the characters in the film. I am looking forward to the arrival of an old WW-II flick titled A Walk in the Sun, which I must've watched around a million times when I was a kid, along with Cyrano de Bergerac.
The phone had been quiet this week, until this morning, which offered a job due in a week. Another call came in while I was sleeping, but the job had been assigned by the time I called back.
I feel myself sinking again as I type this. I am backspacing every couple of keystrokes to correct an apparent inability to type right now. I think I'll go back to sleep.
Cheers...
