s#63/4: The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
Who needs hallucinogens when you have this film?
This was quite a strange film. I saw it with two friends, and between the three of us we figured out MOST of the plot. Wikipedia filled in the rest (and kudos to whoever wrote that. . . presumably someone who asked the writers a whole lot of detailed questions).
For the first third of the film I was enthralled. For the second third I was becoming impatient with having too many mysteries going on. In the last third, I was lost – but still enjoying the stunning visuals, costumes and sets.
Doctor Parnassus, his best friend Percy, his daughter Valentina, and Nice Young Man Anton travel together in a wonderfully shabby and elaborate caravan/stage, tempting passers-by to venture into the world of the imagination through the mirror. The tiny down side is that all who venture inside are given choices. The right choice leads to joyful illumination (that’s not the down side). But if you make the wrong choice, you get blown up (seriously). Fundamentally, if you are imaginative you are good and if you make ordinary choices, you belong to the devil (take that, public service). The devil is played by Tom Waits (and usually called “Mr Nick). It’s worth knowing that he doesn’t lie, and is faithful to his wagers. (That helps with understanding the plot.)
The basic plot is that Doctor Parnassus has a gambling problem – he and the devil have made numerous wagers in his thousands of years of life, and because of a previous deal the devil gets to keep Valentina (his daughter) from the day she turns sixteen. This devil also has a gambling problem, however, and bets Doctor Parnassus that audience members travelling through the mirror will belong to him (rather than the doctor). First to five souls wins Valentina (who of course doesn’t know any of this). Which means the show needs to get audience members. . . something they seriously lack.
The plot is complicated by the addiction of Heath Ledger’s character, Tony, who may or may not be evil (but is a GREAT hustler), and (like Anton) falls for Valentina (who, having saved his life, falls for him too).
That’s all you need to know, and it’s plenty more than I knew.
The film is M (I think), and I do want to see it again (if only for the pleasure of understanding roughly what’s happening this time). If it wasn’t for “Avatar”, this film would definitely have won best art direction/visuals. There were a couple of moments of very poor acting, but otherwise the acting was great.
Bizarrely, none of the film’s weirdness was due to Heath Ledger’s sudden death. It was honestly written that way from the start (including the obsession with death). The methods used to deal with his death actually (arguably) add to the film. The actors who stand in for him are all friends of his.
Gandalf ate something!
Thirty seconds ago, Gandalf managed to eat a food pellet. . . his first this week.
(Jesus roasting breakfast by the lakeside, anyone?)
Pretty sure this makes Gandalf the most Messianic fish ever.
I also now think he will actually recover. Which is great, because he’s an unusually good-natured fish. And yes, I know that’s an odd thing to say. It’s still true.
Thus far, the new fish plant is not dead. It’s possible my water is no longer poisonous to life.
The “Farting my ABCs” publisher has not responded. It’s like I’m psychic. Here are some translations of publisher speak (for educational reasons):
Publisher talk: “I’ll get right back to you on that.”
Translation: “Call me again in three months.”
Publisher talk: “We’re very excited about your manuscript.”
Translation: “Since you ruined our expectations by using correct spelling, we will punish you by waiting another six months to reject you.”
Publisher talk: “I know this must be difficult for you.”
Translation: “Get used to it.”
This is a picture of “Stormhunter” which has been at a publisher (a different one; they all mean so well and all fail so badly) for eleven months and seventeen days.
C’mon, make a new record! You’re so close! (The current record is eleven months and twenty-nine days, at the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher, but it was divided into two visits whereas “Stormhunter” was sent in full from the beginning.)
Gandalf isn’t really dead after all!
Who saw THAT plot twist coming?
It’s faintly, faintly possible that Gandalf will survive. He’s still alive now, but hasn’t eaten since Sunday. Each day I put food in, wait a bit, and then take it out again.
But just now something amazing happened – he attempted to eat. The food fell straight back out of his mouth (twice, because I tried twice), but he TRIED.
He is a very, very sick fish, but if he starts eating again he may actually recover.
I oh-so-cunningly broke the main tank (Gandalf is now in a cleaned rice canister) while cleaning it, and I had a look online today and discovered it can’t be fixed (there’s a high likelihood of a sudden tank explosion due to water pressure). This is the second tank I’ve destroyed in a month (the first one was my parents’ old one, after I put it briefly and carefully on the hood of the car while I got the mail. It fell).
This morning I thought about giving up, but then committed myself to a new lot of fish by going and buying a new tank. And a plant. If the plant lives through the next week, I’ll get more neon tetras (while leaving Gandalf in his canister until he either dies or fully recovers). Plus the girl I talked to at the Belconnen Markets pet shop said that if I bring in a water sample, they can tell me if anything is wrong with it.
No more danios for me, though. They’re just bullies. Also, it’s possible they were sick before I bought them (fish will bite a sick fish, and they were biting one another from day one).
My own health is starting to improve, right on schedule. I foolishly weighed myself each day, and didn’t get good results at all, but I assume that’s because my body is just screwed up by the medication, and it’ll start behaving properly in the next few days.
S#63/3: The Front Cafe Gallery (and twitter)
For today’s “new thing” I visited the Front Cafe Gallery in North Lyneham (Canberra, Australia), which I’d walked past but never visited. I’d read online that a photographer named Beth Jennings was exhibiting this week (until 27 April, in fact), and I walked in with a little trepidation but an open mind.
Beth Jennings is an extraordinary artist. The gallery itself is a single (not very big) room adjoining the cafe, and I was alone. There were perhaps ten pictures hung on the walls, and each one mattered. I took away more from those ten pictures than I usually take away from a full-size gallery. One made me laugh, another almost made me cry, and the rest were fascinating. My overwhelming sense was of a very human warmth behind each perfectly observed picture.
The pictures were taken on a road, from a camel’s back, and through the window of a locked house. One photo was of footsteps in the desert the author stumbled across on holiday, another was of graffiti on a wall, and a third captured a woman dancing to the pulse of pizza-shop neon lights. I suspect that if I ever met Beth Jennings, I would like her very much.
Her web site is www.bethjennings.com.au
————————————————–
“BRIDEZILLA” tale so far:
1.
It’s pay day, so I buy pillows. Luckily my wedding dress makes a good maternity dress. I hope this plan works. Tomorrow, here I come.
2.
I dress as a VERY expectant bride and go to the bakery store. As I order a huge pile of hot cross buns, I put one hand to my giant stomach.
*
“Oh you poor dear!” says the matronly type I’ve been observing for days. “Don’t bother paying for those buns.”
*
She winks, “And may I STRONGLY recommend entering our restaurant-dinner-for-two competition?”
I obey her while silently applauding my act.
3.
Today I’m a goth bride with heavy eye-makeup and blood-red feathers on my neckline. I mingle in the bar before Amanda Palmer’s concert.
*
Amanda comes out, hugs me, then takes in my full outfit. “Congrats,” she says – “And you’re NOT paying – or your fiancé, wherever he is.”
*
Being a goth bride rocks. It’s even better than yesterday’s pregnancy. I’ve never enjoyed a concert so much – or been given so much beer.
4.
I promised my daughter a huge pile of Easter eggs – but I also promised she could continue at her school. So I dress her as my flower girl.
*
Easter eggs: Check. Nausea: check. Chocolate smears on May’s face: check. Getting chocolate for a flower girl at Easter is almost too easy.
*
A shrill voice cuts through my pleasure – my ex-bridesmaid, Cherie. “Anna! Did Rob come back and marry you after all?”
“Uh. . . sure. Yep.”
5.
I’m embarrassed after lying to Cherie, so today I go for the dumped bride look. My mascara runs beautifully, and I get more hot cross buns.
*
As I’m lugging a garbage bag of buns to my car, one of the bakery girls comes and helps me. She says, “Wait a second, do I recognise you?”
*
I shake my head, but she says, “Yes! I saw you dumped on YouTube. . . but that was a month ago. What the. . .?”
I flee.
6.
Today I dress as a mum. An emotionally and financially stable mum. I try to arrange my stockings so the holes are hidden inside my shoes.
*
“We’ve been making allowances because of your. . . incident. . . a month ago. But we must have next term’s fee by the end of this month.”
*
After the meeting, I go give May a hug. Her teacher stops me and asks for my number.
“Oh no! What did May –”
“Nothing. I want to call YOU.”
7.
I eat hot cross buns, and ask my boss for a raise. Neither goes down well.
*
When May gets home, I interrogate her about her dark-haired, dark-eyed teacher.
She says, “He’s nice. I got to be the queen in story time.”
8.
I get the card for the free dinner for two at a real restaurant. Yay! Less than an hour later my landlord “drops by”. Uh-oh.
*
May’s teacher calls, and arranges to pick me up on Saturday. My heart’s fluttering so hard, I can’t eat my dinner (of hot cross buns).
9.
May dresses in her best dress for our dinner of Real Food. I wear a skirt. They greet us with champagne. “Where’s the other newlywed?”
*
“Uh. . . he had to work,” I say. They hustle us to our highly beflowered table and tell us to order anything we want. We do.
*
May gets them to make her a hamburger. I have a huge pile of meat and a giant salad. Neither of us eats our bread rolls.
10.
I re-use my pillows to make myself an overweight bride, and take May with me with only an hour to spare before Jack comes to fetch me.
*
We go to a child care centre. I ask, “Can you fit her in? The reception’s about to start and my normal babysitter quit. Today!”
*
“Of course we can,” the staff say, “and don’t you dare pay!”
My date is wonderful. Jack is good company and the food is DIVINE.
11.
I shave my eyebrows to become a more lucrative faux bride, and go shopping. I’m about to graciously accept free Docs when I see Jack!
*
Jack! Shopping as I scam! Disaster! I duck behind the nice lady’s desk, biting my nails in terror. Has he already seen me?
*
The lady gives a commentary on Jack’s passing. “The hot guy’s trying on sunglasses. . . now he’s going away. He’s gone!”
I flee the scene.
12.
My landlord says, “Pay your rent by Wednesday, or I’ll have you evicted.”
I flaunt my Doc Martens and say breezily, “No prob. See you then.”
13.
May and I spend the first day of her holidays sorting our possessions into “Sell” and “Keep”. I get $3 for four books.
*
We’ve tried ebay and twelve different friends, but oddly no-one will buy May’s lifesize poster of Edward Cullen. Go figure.
*
I eat lunch with Jack. He doesn’t mock my eyebrows, but says, “Can we have dinner Friday – with May?”
“YES! Er, that’d be nice.”
14.
I fake receiving an SMS break-up at the service station and get a free tank of petrol. Nice. My eyes are getting tired from fake crying.
*
May and I put everything we can’t live without into our car and go camping. I don’t think she believes it’s really a holiday.
*
We go swimming in the creek and May finally relaxes and starts to laugh. For dinner, we roast our hot cross buns over the fire.
15.
Pay day. I’d need three more to pay school fees, and there’s only one more this month. But I have a plan. Today we buy food – sort of.
*
Eggs for protein and zucchini for vegetable matter. Somehow, toasting zucchini isn’t the same as toasting marshmallows.
16.
For our dinner date with Jack we eat roast lamb with gravy and pumpkin and potatoes. May doesn’t eat the zucchini, and neither do I.
*
The night is perfect. It’s even kind of fun to pretend to go into our old house before sneaking around the corner to our car.
[the story so far appears each Friday]
Shiny new addiction
The receptionist at the doctor told me to buy Movocol (a powdered laxative) for bowel impaction (at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what she said I had). I read the instructions carefully and noted that a normal dose is one sachel, and people with bowel impaction need to have eight sachels over a space of six hours – for up to three days.
And I wanted to be sure I’d get better.
So I finished my twenty-fourth laxative sachel a few hours ago. The weird thing is I grew to love the taste. It’s a little like orange tang. And I seriously wish I was drinking another eight sachels tomorrow. (While also looking forward to a recovery from the last three days, presumably to full health.)
It’s possible it’s altered my brain.
But it tastes sooo goooood.
#129: Fish and Chips
So once again I didn’t achieve the planned awesomeness due to illness (it should get better from here on in, though, and I WILL finish a full seven New Things these holidays). Instead I dragged myself to a nearby fish and chip shop and ate sweeeeeeet delicious lard.
Mmmmmm.
Play along at home: Eat something you shouldn’t*.
Tomorrow: Cafe gallery at North Lyneham (not Tillies, the other one).
*Keep it non-toxic, kids!
In the meantime: You’re familiar with my cat Ana, who spends her days (1) overturning my rubbish bin (2) falling off things, and (3) posing for photos. This is the other one, who spends her days glaring from the top of the cupboard, and meowring in annoyance if you dare to open the cupboard door. Every so often she feels like taking a little sun. Her name is Indah, and she is twelve years old. She is absolutely awake in these photos (deciding on a dignified indifference rather than her usual paparazzi-fighting technique of running away).
S#63/2: The National Carillon
The article has been moved here – and if you visit the article, I get paid for it.
#128: Cheese Party
Observant readers may notice that “cheese party” and “self-defence class” are not the same thing. I was sick today, so I’m using awesomeness I prepared earlier. Specifically, last Saturday.
Many of the awesome items on my various lists are the kind of thing that people think of like so: “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if I. . . nah, I shouldn’t.” This is firmly one of them, for the simple reason that it costs moolah.
So. Cheese. Fun to say, funner still to eat. I wanted to go WAY over the top, so I bought some cheese myself, and also asked each guest to bring a specific type (they got to take home the leftovers, or swap with someone else). In total we ended up with:
Brie, camambert, edam, havarti, gouda (with caraway seeds), swiss, gruyere (which I discovered I hate, and which made the house smell bad for days), blue (which I already knew I hated), apricot and almond, fruit nut and brandy, melon and mango – and basil cashew and parmesan dip (not all of these are in the picture). I made fondue with the swiss and gruyere, and we also had tomatoes and avocado and pepper and various types of crackers, etc. And chicken and cognac pate. And red and white wine. And butterbeer.
It was quite a night. It cost me about $40, and everyone had plenty of delicious loot to take home at the end.
Play along at home: What’s something that costs about $20 that you’ve been putting off doing because you “shouldn’t spend that on something so frivolous.” Go do it. Come back and tell us about it. If it’s especially fabulous, I’ll add it to my own list.
Alternatively, express your awesomeness solidarity by buying one or more of the cheeses from the above list.
Tomorrow: The Carillon
Join me
I just cracked and called the “Farting My ABCs” possible-publisher to check it hadn’t turned into coal in their slush pile (it’s been seven and a half months, and this was my first call). They said, “Oh. Our records say we replied to that some time ago. I’ll get back to you.”
This means it’s probably already rejected. But I thought I’d share this update with y’all so you can share the agonising wait. It could be as long as two weeks, but in theory I’ll know the fate of “Farting My ABCs” later today. I’ll write a post as soon as I know.
Life after death
Everyone except Gandalf is dead (I should probably mention for new readers that Gandalf is a Siamese fighting fish).
I’d already moved Gandalf to a different container, so this means I can clean out the fish tank of death, get closure, and start thinking about how I would have set up the tank if I’d known two weeks ago what I know now. I’m quietly excited about doing it right this time – taking my time to sift through the incredibly conflicting advice that caused me so much trouble. A part of me feels that I should never be allowed near fish again, but it’s pretty easy to tell that one bad experience shouldn’t define me. So I won’t let it.
I spent yesterday watching the lingering deaths of creatures under my care. (That’s almost certainly Gandalf’s fate, too, although it’s hypothetically possible he’ll get better.) Today can’t help but be a better day than that. Plus it’s a weekday, which means I just might get a reply from a publisher today (it’s two months yesterday since I was told that “Stormhunter” was getting discussed by the two heads of the children’s department of a big publisher).
My official weekly weigh-in is tomorrow, but I see friends (and thus chocolate) on Mondays, so it’s likely I’ll eat too many corn chips to compensate (I’m allowed to eat corn chips, cheese, nuts, fruit, etc in whatever proportions my self-control can manage) – so I weighed myself today, just in case things go horribly wrong tomorrow morning. I now weigh 81.9 (I ate a LOT of cheese on Saturday, but exercised for twice as long on Sunday). This means I am no longer the heaviest I’ve ever been. It also means that if I lose .4 today I’ve lost two kilos this week (something that’s only ever possible in the first week of dieting, so I’m definitely going to try with all my heart).
I’m at the point in a diet where I do feel faint and hungry and I still instinctively reach for chocolate before remembering I’m not doing that at the moment – but I feel good. I know I’m getting somewhere, and I know that everything I eat will taste twice as good as usual. And eating vast quantities of chocolate certainly isn’t good for anyone’s self-esteem, so I feel better about myself each day I eat properly.
I’m trying not to think about how far I have to go. Hopefully I’ll be in the 70s by the first week of Term 2 (two weeks away, so perfectly plausible). Then I’ll decide whether to continue being strict, or to take a couple of weeks to eat moderate amounts of chocolate before another push into the mystical Healthy Weight Range.
I’m getting some cramps etc, so I’m still sick – but my metabolism is back, so I don’t care. Three cheers for Fel’s metabolism!
PS I JUST received my latest test results, and apparently I’m massively constipated (and that’s why I have diarrhoea? Whatever. . .) So I’m to go on a laxative for a week, and drink a lot of water and eat a lot of fibre. I won’t blog about the process (you’re welcome), but I’ll let you know in 1-2 weeks if it worked. The cool part is that it confirms my notion that this illness was causing weight gain, especially in the belly area.
Felicity Banks 