i am a lover of stories. so, it was a good week to be me. it began with the hunger games1, which i loved. then kateri & i had a phone/movie date and watched hugo, which i also loved. hugo reminded us both of the fall so we watched that next.
"the fall?" you say, "what is the fall?" one of my top ten favorite movies, thanks for asking. while i'm certain i've gone on and on about the fall here before, that's not going to stop me now - because people keep asking me "what is the fall?"
but before i get splorky, watch this:
the first time i heard of the fall my friend, cheryl, called me. she told me to check my email. she had sent me the trailer and wanted me to watch it right then. so, i did. i squealed when i saw the swimming elephant. i whispered, "whirrrrrrrrrrrling derrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrvishes." i think i was afraid that if i was too loud the whirling would stop. i held my breathe more than once. oh, yes. i was excited. i sent the trailer to kateri. she was also excited. we all went and saw it together once it opened and it was magical. truly. the following friday night, kateri & i were at our favorite drinking establishment, celebrating week's end. our conversation turned to the movie. we got so jazzed up that we hopped in a cab, rode the few miles to the theater, made it there in the nick of time, and saw it again. a few weeks later, i made shawn take me to see it again for my birthday. its the only movie that i can think of that i've seen in the theater multiple times in ages2.
why? while we watched it the other day we tweeted within moments of one another:
stories. we all have them. we tell them, listen to them, watch and read them - funny, sad, real and imagined. stories make us who we are and help us to understand who others our. they are IMPORTANT. we HAVE TO tell them, and have to listen. there are few things i believe more strongly than this.
my grandparents, while not wealthy, gave me the world - their world through stories. i knew lucy was declining rapidly when she could no longer remember the story of how she met my grandfather - her favorite story to tell, mine to hear. they taught me how to tell stories and as long as there are people who will listen, i will tell their stories. they are a huge part of who i am. love me, love the story of lucy & wally meeting.
so, the fall? an elaborately beautiful movie featuring lee pace telling a story to an adorable young girl. oh yes. yes, please.
and guess what? it was just added to watch instant on netflix! go. go NOW. you won't be sorry.
1 yes, it was different from the book. yes, some things are going to be problematic if they make the other books into movies. but, katniss and rue were awesome and i loved it.
2 there was an unfortunate period in junior high where i went to see dirty dancing once, sometime TWICE a weekend for months with my friends at the dollar show. holy crap, that's embarrassing.
here's some of my favorite story places around the internet:
snap judgement - this is my favorite. i let the podcasts pile up so i can spend hours catching up. the host, glynn washington, never fails to make me laugh. never.
radiolab - stories to expain our world. this is my favorite episode.
third coast radio festival - they always played the show where they feature the winners on christmas morning. shawn & i listened almost every year. it was always a nice way to spend part of the morning while preparing for the family invasion. at least one story would make us cry EVERY YEAR.
post secret - people's secrets, anonymously shared via postcards and letters. even tiny snippets tell a big story.
forgotten bookmarks - the things people leave in books. i have to wonder what i've left in books and i wonder what it would tell someone about me.
mortified - people read artifacts from their youth. i die inside just thinking about it. in a good way.
i have been wanting to paint the mud room in our house forever. it was this dreary powdery blue and the room was in desperate need of freshening up. the seventies linoleum tile is kind of ugly and kind of awesome. also, its a mud room. portland spring + that furry beast laying there = messy floor. there's a whole paw wiping ritual whenever she comes in. she finds the whole process distasteful and tries to wiggle away. the ugly seventies floor doesn't really show the evidence of these power struggles. nice.
one day this week, she actually darted right in between my legs and skid across the kitchen floor, leaving skid marks the entire length of the kitchen. the kitchen floor is sky blue. yeah. awesome, dog. good job. now when are you going to learn to mop? or empty the dishwasher? do anything other than look cute and smell like dog?
but i digress, i knew i wanted to paint the room yellow. it seemed like an easy enough task. its a tiny room. i would be able to get it done fairly quick, right?
so, shawn & i have this thing where we always underestimate how long home improvement projects are going to take. always. in our old house in chicago, there was the bathroom debacle. we were just swapping out the vanity and mirror and painting the room. there is no good reason that should've taken two weeks. then there was the sun room. we'd had the windows replaced and needed to paint the trim around the new windows. we no longer had the old trim color so we went to home depot. we were faced with a wall of paint chips and something went horribly awry. we are unclear on the the order of events and who said what. we decided to repaint the WHOLE ROOM. we were going to paint it red. instead of being the quick weekend project we thought it was, it took us the better part of a week, painting after late nights at work. yeah, that's a recipe for happiness and marital bliss. mind you, this room was at the very front of our house and was all windows. so, this story arc in the shana & shawn show had veiwers. some even brought lawn chairs and popcorn.
here i was. i'd done it again. who would've thought powder blue would be so hard to cover up. also, i hadn't realized until i started that the ceiling was also painted powder blue. yep. so, it took two and a half days. not terrible, not awesome.
what is awesome is the finished product. warm and glowy, even when its dark and grey out. plus, the view from the living room? pretty rad.
monkey's not sure what she thinks of it. whatever. she can register a formal complaint once she can repaint the room herself.
living room (and kitchen) dance parties: 5 or 6 (that's what happens when you're home alone and can listen to embarassing music at top volume without fear of being discovered.)
this week brittany told me she loves the saturday stats posts. that was nice to hear since they are my self check and i often wonder if everyone thinks they are lame. so, i'm going to stick with them. they're working for me. if you've got a problem with them, talk to brit.
that's what today was. a celebration of shawn coming home, of 150 daffodils, and a bag full of sparkly things. a celebration with pizza and beer. of bare pasty white legs seeing the light of day. of walks on bridges. of cherry blossoms and dog walks. and of sunshine, big beautiful sunshine.
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
shana is a wearer of knee socks, lover of pie, horror movies and shiny things. she writes about horror and other things, makes pie and shiny things in portland, oregon, where she lives with her husband, shawn (aka shampton). she is the vintage jewelry and yoyo obsessed woman behind the cookoorikoo curtain. email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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