I dreamt to-day that I was staying in an extremely large, spacious, labyrinthine mansion, a bit like Xanadu in Citizen Kane. There was an enormous basement complex under the house, always partially flooded--I think I may have been remembering one of the Addams Family movies, where there seemed to be a lake under the house. I think that was one of the Addams Family movies.

Anyway, there were living quarters down there, and I needed to get to one room that seemed much like a small hotel room with lots of my things piled in there. There was a small doll with black hair I needed to find.

It was pitch black in the basement, and I knew there was a black bear roaming about in the shallow water. But I wasn't afraid of the animal; I knew somehow that I needed only to scratch him behind the ears, and he'd let me by--and so it was. The bedroom I needed to reach was just beyond another room where, behind its closed door, there was a noisy ogre. I reached my destination without any trouble from him, though.

The bedroom was very brightly lit, or at least it seemed that way after the dark basement. I think it was actually only average room lighting.

There was a television in a brown armoire against the wall, and a big pile of my personal belongings on the bed. I found the doll I was looking for in one of the armoire's drawers, as well as two other dolls. The doll I was looking for had black hair, one of the others had lavender hair and a faded red vest, and I don't remember what the third looked like. I put the black haired doll in my coat pocket and left, wondering if something would prevent me from leaving the basement. I woke up before I found out.

I didn't get nearly as much done yesterday as I wanted to. Well, I hadn't planned on getting much done, what with the Oscars, but I still wanted to get things done. I'll try to do better to-day (er, to-night).

I'm starting to feel defensive about Enchanted. I need to remind myself that I only found the movie mildly enjoyable. My original review from December 21;

I was Christmas shopping at Fashion Valley mall on Sunday, and for some reason decided to see Enchanted. It had gotten pretty much universally good reviews, and maybe I was in the mood for something light-hearted.

I was a little surprised by how much the animated opening sequence made me miss the heyday of animated Disney films. Those folks really need to remember how to play to their strengths. Anyway, the movie wasn't entirely tongue-in-cheek, Shrek-ish humour. It was more like the filmmakers used what has become the standard ironic mode to tell a sincere story. Which I suppose is a new reflection of this emotionally dysfunctional society.

The movie broke down pretty much as I expected; dreamy Disney princess believes in love at first sight, while Real Guy is a cynical divorce lawyer, and by the end they meet each other halfway to fall in love; Giselle (the princess) learns to get to know someone before she gets married, and Robert (the lawyer) learns to believe in love again. It's probably a lucky thing I wasn't in charge of the movie as Giselle would probably have ended up institutionalised while Robert became a dictator of a third world country or something.

But I did enjoy the movie. It was actually good, Disney fun, and Amy Adams was fantastic, in every sense of the word.

It really wasn't Oscar calibre. It was just enjoyable. Honest--I'm not an evil shrinking violet. Really.

Oh, well.

Er, okay. I swear that Enchanted was not a bad movie. I know it's impossible to tell from those excruciating performances of songs that were all tongue-in-cheek in the movie. I felt really bad for Amy Adams, who I really think is a very charming and talented actress, presenting later in her bloody GREEN dress.

That being said, yeah, Once was a much better movie. And that was a much better song.

Overall, kind of an awkward Oscars. I thought Jon Stewart was good, especially when he brought Marketa Irgolva back on stage. I was terrified of Regis Philbin on the red carpet. I think that's the biggest dose of that guy I've ever gotten--so is he like a berserker or something?

And what was all the Hannah Montana crap? I suppose it's because Disney owns ABC . . .

In case anyone is wondering, I did spend time looking at Al Green and Kermit the Frog videos. I just had to cut myself off somewhere.

Really tired right now. I was in bed drumming my fingers on my chest until some time after 8am. I think it might be because it was the first time in a week I wasn't in the mood for alcohol. Which sucks. I don't want to be dependent on alcohol for sleep. I suppose the Earl Grey tea probably didn't help . . .

I also had a bagel before bed. It was kind of an experiment--back when I used to eat breakfast with Trisa at the Living Room, we used to get some amazing bagels with tomato and pesto. And lately I've had an onion surplus because I've been buying diced onions for my burritos, but gods, onions seem to expire in the blink of an eye. So I've been trying to think of more uses for them.

Normally, I'd get the tomato and pesto bagel on an onion bagel, so last night I had a plain bagel with pesto and onion bits sprinkled on it. Not bad. It's distinctly missing the tomato, though.

A more successful experiment, earlier in the day, was some toasted English muffins on which I put butter, shredded cheddar and jack cheese, and jalapeño slices. Jalapeños can save to world.

Wait. Jalapeños are green. Hmm.

I'm going to my mother's house to watch the Oscars shortly (which is why I didn't just keep sleeping). I have no picks. I'm pretty much pulling for No Country for Old Men, though I haven't seen Michael Clayton. I'm secretly looking forward to seeing Amy Adams sing.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Here are some green related videos;

Working on a map last night, I listened to Stephen Prince's commentary for Red Beard. Prince's analysis was primarily focused on two aspects of the movie that connect it to Kurosawa's other films; the master and pupil relationship, and the use of physical illness to reflect psychological or social trauma, as in Drunken Angel and Ikiru (I neglected to talk about either aspect in my own analysis of Red Beard).

During a scene featuring the aftermath of a terrible earthquake, Prince recounts a story about Kurosawa that I've heard a few times and have always found fascinating--the director's experience, at the age of thirteen, of surviving the Great Kanto earthquake of 1923;

Tokyo and Yokohama were densely packed industrial areas and a hundred and forty thousand people were killed in the destruction and resulting fires. The quake measured 8.3 with its epicentre southwest of Tokyo. And even for Japan, which is located in one of the world's most active earthquake zones, the devastation was enormous . . . The quake hit just before noon. Kurosawa had gone downtown that morning to visit a bookstore and he was never sure afterward how he had managed to escape the fire and destruction . . . Kurosawa rushed home, thinking that his parents were surely dead. But they had survived, and his older brother, Heigo, persuaded him to go back into the city so they could view the destruction. This trip with Heigo became one of the central and defining passages in Kurosawa's life. Heigo was four years older than Akira, and Kurosawa adored this brother and worshiped him as the kind of wise and powerful master that Kurosawa would go on to create in so many characters like Red Beard.

Kurosawa recalled that he and Heigo saw a burned landscape as far as they could see filled with corpses, charred black, some half burned, corpses in gutters, in rivers, on bridges, and in the street. There was every manner of death that a human being could experience. Akira turned away, but his brother said, "Look carefully, now." They stood by the Sumidagawa River and saw the banks choked with corpses. Kurosawa thought it was like the lake of blood in a Buddhist hell.

The river was swollen with naked, bloated bodies. Kurosawa started to faint . . . but Heigo held him up and said, "Look carefully, Akira." That night, after he and Heigo returned home, he slept soundly, and with no bad dreams. Surprised, he told Heigo about this, and his brother explained in a way that provided Kurosawa with the philosophy of art and life that he carried with him ever after. Heigo said, "If you shut your eyes to a frightening sight, you end up being frightened. If you look at everything straight on, there is nothing to be afraid of." The journey with Heigo had been a trip to banish fear, the kind of trial by fire to which Kurosawa would subject his filmic heroes, and whose outcome is a state of enlightenment.

I suppose one of the reasons this story interests me so much is that I completely agree with this philosophy. Which is probably one of the reasons I like Kurosawa's movies so much.

I guess the antithesis of this philosophy would be Fred Madison's in Lost Highway, but this gives me an opportunity to mention that that movie is finally getting released on DVD in the U.S. on March 25. It's about damned time.

Yesterday I also downloaded the first ten episodes of the 1978 anime series, Galaxy Express 999, which I'd been wanting to see for about ten years, ever since I saw an English dubbed version of the movie on the Sci-Fi channel. The first episode of the television series exceeded by expectations by about twenty miles. And several episodes are available on YouTube--I highly recommend watching this (the subtitles are easier to read after the theme song ends);

To-day I dreamt (I really need to get out of the habit of saying "last night I dreamt") I was in Twin Peaks at the Road House where everyone was gathered to talk to Ed Hurley, who'd been lost in the woods for a while. He had wavier and slightly fuller hair, but no beard, just Everett McGill's bare, square face with its tiny eyes, looking both alien and solidly American.

I don't remember what he told everyone, but it was kind of disturbing, except to Agent Rosenfield, who found it an annoying, but mildly amusing, diversion.

Maybe a Twin Peaks dream makes sense, since I watched an episode of Deep Space Nine before bed that featured Richard Beymer. Also featured, very much to my surprise, was Frank Langella;



But I thought I was losing my mind because the dude is uncredited. According to his Memory Alpha profile, "Langella took the role because his children were great fans of the series. He was uncredited in all of his appearances as he did not want to seem to be doing it for the exposure or money." Which seems like an odd logic. Surely his presence would be more of a boon for Deep Space Nine than for him. And if it did help his career, what's the harm?

Anyway, it was the season premiere of the second season--my favourite season of the entire series--and Langella played a Bajoran minister, Jaro Essa, secretly involved in one of several Bajoran insurrectionist factions that emerged after the end of the Cardassian occupation and the introduction of the Federation's presence. I remember being fascinated by the plot thread when I saw it in--I guess it was 1994. But now, of course, it all seems familiar in new ways, and I can't help thinking that, as the aggressive occupiers who imprisoned and tortured the indigenous people, casually flinging the word "terrorist" at every inconvenience, the Americans are the Cardassians in this scenario.

I think I have a hangover right now. But I'm honestly not sure if what I'm feeling is due to all the rum I drank or all the Atomic Fireballs I ate. It was probably not the best combo, at any rate.

Here's an interesting video for "Greensleeves" I came across. The singer is Otake Yuki, whom I'd not heard of before. I swear I wasn't just searching for things that include the word "green". Honestly, I'd be surprised if I went a day without a confrontation with that colour.

I'm up to the white album. I've found a lot of great versions of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" on YouTube, including this one with an amazing guitar solo by Prince. But so far, my favourite is this one;



It seems like, at this point, the song was more intensely personal for Harrison than in the later performances I've looked at. You can really see it behind those red and pronounced cheekbones.

I've listened up to Rubber Soul in my new Beatles collection, and I'm hearing a number of songs I hadn't heard before. I found the last song on Rubber Soul, "Run for Your Life", to be rather startling--it starts off with the lyric, "I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man." Hearing that in my car prompted from me an immediate, "Whoa, damn, John!"

According to the Wikipedia entry, "Lennon designated this song his 'least favorite Beatles song' in a 1973 interview, and later said it was the song he most regretted writing."

I can't say I blame him for regretting it. I can see where he's coming from--I'm fairly notorious for my insecurity in relationships. But I'm much quicker to attack myself than to threaten the other party.

Of course, I already knew John Lennon was a jealous guy from this song;



As you can see, much like Matt Lauer, John Lennon's trying to dress like me. Oh, heavy is the burden of my interdimensional fashion influence.

I downloaded every Beatles album ever yesterday. All of 'em. Every studio album, every collection, every live album. In just over three hours. Torrents are truly marvellous. I'm currently listening to all the studio albums in order of their U.K. releases.

I also downloaded two episodes of the original Dirty Pair series. I never get tired of this opening;



But the two episodes, seven and eight, weren't the best of the series, particularly not in terms of animation. Still, episode seven was fun for taking a Twilight Zone plot and adding layers of sex comedy; a chained groom is kidnapped by a beautiful woman during his wedding, and the groom's father hires Kei and Yuri (the Lovely Angels, aka the Dirty Pair) to deliver the ransom money and retrieve his son. But, as it turns out, the groom and his kidnapper are in love with each other, a love only rivalled by their mutual love for hamburgers, prompting a brief musical number where the two sing of their love for the food.

The episode ends with the kidnapper being shot into space in stasis, and the guy following in another rocket so he'll be the same age as her when she comes back. And then the father follows, too, and the father's mistress follows him . . . And on top of all that, the episode manages to convey a positive message about transgenders, which was rather surprising for a fairly light-weight anime series made in 1985.

Well, it's time to get where I'm going, Magnifique. Va, va, va!

Oof. Feel like I just got socked in the mouth by the governor. But I invited it. See, along with my perfectly decent and vaguely nutritious burrito I made with sour cream, guacamole, and diced onions, I also made for myself what I thought of as a quesadilla. Though what it would probably be more aptly called is a jalapeño and cheese burrito. I loved it. But look what I've done to my mouth!

Why do I enjoy these things? I guarantee you'll not find any Thai dish that's too spicy for me. The first alcohol I had and enjoyed was Wild Turkey. Oh, and wait just a moment while I pop another Atomic Fireball in my mouth.

I think my taste buds just want to live fast and die . . . well, if not pretty, at least pink (dig Amanda Palmer's "vocal vag").

I've just gotten back from class wherein The Miller's Tale was discussed. Er, looks like someone's vandalised the Wikipedia entry; "CHaucer was a basketball player for the cleveland cavailers until he gave birth to his so Lebron James who now dominates the NBA. This story was based on the film monsters inc."

And it was just fixed. It's amazing how quickly people manage to catch these things on Wikipedia. Every page must have someone watching it like a hawk.

Anyway, I'd read The Miller's Tale a couple years ago. I found it oddly depressing this time. I felt bad for the carpenter, who not only lost his wife and made himself look like a complete idiot in front of his neighbours, he also broke his arm! His only crime was being ridiculously credulous.

But I felt a little better when the teacher, to-day, talked about how the story's a mockery of chivalry and Christianity, something I'd somehow not picked up on before. I guess it's a better story when you can keep in mind the character of the miller telling it.

And now for to work on my project. The really silly idea I had yesterday actually ended up being really scary, but I think that's for the best.

My hair is capricious and strange. Two days ago, strands were sticking out on the left, then to-day, those bits were behaving, but now there's a tab-like clump holding out its hand for rain on the right side. I suppose these are the consequences of cutting my own hair. Mixed in with not sleeping on a consistent side.

I dreamt about feeding my aunt's cats last night. Even Olivia, who's been dead for a couple years. I'd had a dream about just Lucky, then one about just Victoria, and I had a strange feeling that Victoria was there just to check up on me, like she didn't exactly need me, but knew I kind of needed her.

And now, I've found a note on the door from my grandmother, reminding me not to let my aunt into the house. What the fuck? What is so funny about peace, love, and understanding, I mean, really?

Well, I think I'll jump into my project now. I've been trying to work out a solution to something for a couple of days, and I'm kind of giddy about my suspicion that the answer I'm about to come up with is going to be really, really silly.

Amanda Palmer covers Radiohead, followed by Radiohead covering Morrissey, followed by Morrissey covering David Bowie.

I felt something like a hypocrite last night, having criticised the Fruit Stripe Gum wardrobe in Knights of the Old Republic, only to find myself once again admiring Duckie's clothes in Pretty in Pink;



That movie's really growing on me. Most of the smarmy bits don't bother me as much.

It's weird how obviously the movie's geared towards the ending that was cut, where Duckie and Andie end up together. I still think it was pretty silly of Molly Ringwald to insist on the change--not to mention unprofessional--but I do think it would have been unrealistic for Andie to suddenly fall for Duckie. In my dream ending, Andie and Blane would have ended up hating each other and Duckie would have died miserable and alone. Once again, the world is lucky I'm not in charge of these things.

On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that's exactly how things would have unfolded in a realistic sequel. I think we would have learned the blonde making eyes at Duckie was just in his imagination.

I also read some of The Miller's Tale in The Canterbury Tales last night. Swich a ful wel likerous wench, the carpenter's wif is.

Working on a map yesterday, I listened to Donald Richie's commentary for Akira Kurosawa's Drunken Angel. I was surprised to learn that Richie was actually on set during the filming of a number of Drunken Angel's scenes--at one point, he remarks on how, if the camera had panned slightly to the left, he'd have been visible standing next to Toshiro Mifune. That was in 1947, when Richie had come to Japan as part of the force of occupiers.

What makes the commentary even better is that Richie is actually an extremely articulate and insightful fellow. He discusses the existentialism apparent in Drunken Angel, the story of a yakuza (Mifune), whose identity is slowly broken down after he contracts tuberculosis, a disease rampant in the filthy conditions of many of Japan's post-war cities. Mifune's the city's suave boss at the beginning of the movie, but he slowly loses power as he becomes physically weaker, unable to wean himself from alcohol and the debaucheries that are part of his lifestyle. The things he identifies as himself begin to destroy him in a process Richie continually refers to as "denuding" until he's left with nothing more than naked will.

Richie says he actually asked Kurosawa about the existentialism present in the movie, and Kurosawa had told him he had no idea what he was talking about. I found that surprising, though I probably shouldn't have, since, as a film noir made in 1947, Drunken Angel was part of an era where filmmakers were making noirs without even knowing it.

Takashi Shimura's in the movie, too, as an alcoholic doctor trying to help Mifune's character;



And that's about all I did yesterday. I suspect I shall be making more maps to-day. I have a huge backlog of commentaries to listen to, fortunately . . .

If there's one thing I've learned from playing Knights of the Old Republic lately, it's that said knights had absolutely no idea how to dress themselves;



I can't even find screenshots of the godsawful "light battle armour" my character's wearing now. With stripey red sleeves and a pale grey vest, it's like a giant seagull crapped on Ronald McDonald.

I don't know what the problem is. You didn't get shit like this in the movies. The original trilogy was a lot of blacks and whites, and solid colours; it was strange, but plain, and it worked. And say what you will about the prequels, at least no-one's clothes made you cry tears of blood.

Incredibly, there aren't really any decent armour mods for this game. But it is pretty fun, I'll give it that.

My socks are soaked. It's been raining like a Kurosawa movie outside* and of course I had to park well off campus. I'm pretty over-prepared for rain, though, with a leather jacket, waterproof hat, and an umbrella. I felt a little silly with the umbrella since most of the students around me were making do with hoodies, or even simply t-shirts and shorts. It takes some time for the San Diego brain to catch up with rain.

So it's Valentine's Day. Huzzah. I'm kind of sorry I didn't manage to do a Valentine's Day comic. I kind of like Valentine's Day, maybe because I hate it so much. It's statements like that that make me feel like an artist.

Well, here's last year's Valentine's Day special. And we all know how much good that did me. If I've soured just one person on Valentine's Day to-day, I'll feel I've accomplished much.


*John Ford: "You really like rain." Akira Kurosawa: "You've really been paying attention to my movies."

World-building, as I have been of late, naturally entails making up lots of names and words. Normally, I tend to Google any word I make up to see if it's already a real word. If it is, I don't necessarily scrap it--after all, it's not unheard of for two languages to have words that sound the same, usually with different meanings. But I like to make sure the words I'm coming up with don't have exceptionally silly meanings somewhere or meanings that would make my definition ironic (not necessarily a deal-breaker, either, but I like to know about it).

But since I've been coming up with words so quickly on this current project, I don't always have time to Google things. So I was going back over a description I wrote of one religion, and decided to Google the name of one of its goddesses; Molyi.

This particular religion is something of a parody of Christianity, so it has a Trinity. Only in this case, instead of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I have the Mother, the Daughter, and the Ghost. Molyi is the mother.

However, I have just discovered via a Googling that, in the Kivunjo language, spoken in Tanzania and Kenya, Molyi means wife.

I'm not sure if I'm going to use the name now. I might. But in any case, this gave me a chill. I felt a little like I'd accidentally tapped into some vast, ancient, secret pool of human thought. Like written in some celestial book somewhere, Molyi is, for all time, mother/wife.

I've downloaded 99.8% of Mikio Naruse's Yama no oto. That last .2% is taking forever. The ETA fluctuates between two hours and two weeks. I've already been downloading this thing for a week, and this is the only Naruse movie that comes up in Scrape Torrent that I haven't seen yet. I feel like I've been eating them like candy.

I went to a Denny's I'd never been to in Rancho San Diego to-day to read the somewhat difficult Middle English prologue of The Canterbury Tales, only to be served by a mumbling waiter eight hundred times more difficult to understand.

I've been re-watching season one of Deep Space Nine lately. I got to "The Nagus" last night. Though I still kind of like Wallace Shawn in the role, I found the caricature-like, ultra greedy Ferengi a little off-putting. They sort of reminded me of the squinting, buck-toothed Japanese soldiers in World War II propaganda cartoons. Maybe I'm getting too sensitive . . .

Wow. I think this is my favourite YouTube find of the year; a user named ShakespeareAndMore has uploaded an awesome bounty of Shakespeare, among other things. I only wish he or she had more complete plays.

But I can't overstate how giddy I was to find this clip--John Hurt as the Fool and Laurence Olivier as Lear. I think even people who don't like Olivier will dig him here;



Egad, John Hurt's amazing. I think I'll have to rank him next to Peter in Ran as my favourite King Lear fool. The affectionate performance Hurt gives actually kind of reminds me of Peter's. I don't think this degree of visible love is implied by the text, but I could be wrong, I haven't read it in a while.

Discussing Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in class on Tuesday night, I couldn't help thinking about its similarities to Vertigo. Is that movie just too much on my brain? But think about it--Gawain's Scottie, the Green Knight and his wife are Judy, and Morgan le Fay is Gavin Elster. Morgan le Fay's barely in the story, yet it's her plot that sets everything in motion--just like Elster. Gawain's having an existential crisis, in that he finds his nature in conflict with his identity as a knight--similar to Scottie's sexual impulses being at odds with his identity as a hero. Judy's even associated with the colour green in Vertigo.

Sheesh. I'm never getting away from that movie . . .