Under the Leaves

One of the new team duck hangouts. Their egret mascot was also on hand, but I didn't get a good picture.





I was trying to find the two frogs I could hear ribbitting at each other from under the leaves, but they proved too elusive.

Last night I sat down with some Wheat Thins, white Babybel cheese, cherries I'd chopped up into fourths, and a glass of cognac and watched It's a Wonderful Life. By far, the best part was the snack, as the cheese and cherry on the crackers ended up tasting like cherry cheese cake. The first two thirds of It's a Wonderful Life aren't bad--it's the Sci-Fi section that really doesn't work. Am I really supposed to find it horrible that Mary had lived into her mid-twenties without getting married, wears glasses, and works at a library? Not to mention that the message that the movie ultimate sends is that if you're a beloved community leader, you shouldn't kill yourself. Clarence sure didn't have to work hard for those wings.

I guess these are all pretty old arguments. It's amazing my fondness for Jimmy Stewart survives that movie.

After making yesterday's post on Black Swan, I realised that all my online friends who are into Powell and Pressburger no longer read my journal and don't speak to me. I actually looked at Sonya's blog for the first time in, I think, around half a year, just to see what she'd thought of Black Swan, but I couldn't find anything about it. I don't know if I can go back to check again as when I look at her journal I start getting angry and simultaneously ashamed of my anger. I could talk to Sonya about Powell and Pressburger movies, or any work of art in general, like I could with no-one else. I get angry because she threw that away so easily, and then I get ashamed of being angry because I realise it only seemed precious to me, so I have no right to lament the loss of that relationship on any objective level. And here it is getting me angry still, two years later, so I must really be crazy.