October 26th, 2005

little review

Poem for Wednesday

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Today I had an unexpected attack of nostalgia -- unexpected because I was looking for a photo in an old album, and I had thought I had removed all my photos from PVC pages but I discovered that I was wrong and some of my most important photos -- photos of me, apaulled, our kids and friends at fannish events from the mid-1990s -- were turning horrific shades of yellow and brown, so right then I stopped everything and stripped down the album to put the photos in acid-free boxes. (I used to think my friends who got obsessively into scrapbooking were so frustrating, spending hours on end gluing those little corner-edge photo holder things in place with all those borders until I never saw some of them like my husband's former office mate because she was always too busy hosting Creative Memories parties and putting her own books together, but oh how I wish I had listened more attentively when they warned about what the popular "magnet" photo albums of the 1980s did to pictures.) Anyway, it was impossible to strip my main personal Star Trek album without looking at the photos, Collapse )

Hey, can someone explain icon fine art to me? I don't understand why there are so many icons that win awards in icon tutorial contests with words on them that are too small for anyone but the icon's creator to have any idea what they say. I keep thinking it's my eyes, but then I read comments where people ask what the hell the icons say and I feel better knowing it's not just me, but then I am baffled: what is the point of making a public icon with a teeny tiny semi-private message on it? Do I just chalk this up to my inability to appreciate Rothko and other modern artists where no matter how it is explained to me in intellectual or artistic terms I just don't get it? I think I must be very shallow, because give me an icon I can glance at and have some clue what it's about without having to struggle -- the 100x100 art form as art form eludes me!

Hmm, I didn't talk about today at all. It rained. Younger son had an all-day field trip from which I expected him to come home tired and cranky, as it was very cold and wet, but they showed Wallace and Gromit shorts on the tour bus they had chartered for the trip and he apparently had a great time in the Native American encampment where they had a campfire and he was perfectly happy. Older son's stomach is still off but he went to school all right and I picked him up so he wouldn't have to walk in the rain. Commander in Chief was as always -- damned mediocre dialogue, lots of bluster and some overacting from the supporting cast, but Mackenzie Allen Mackenzie Allen oh my god Mackenzie Allen. And Boston Legal -- did Alan ask Denny to marry him or just recite lots of quotes on how a good friend is better than a wife? I know I heard Shatner say, "I won't have sex with you"! The previews make it look like they are going to have a rift next week, and I sincerely hope it's just a one-episode thing, because I am coming to depend on my Alan/Denny love-fest. I cannot believe I am enthusiastically watching a David E. Kelley show and I really cannot believe I am not more ashamed of myself.


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Against my better judgment, am watching to see whether the White Sox can pull this out. They were winning when we were watching other shows so I feel like we should be watching other shows again! I had a political rant but am thinking I should just have a blog for political rants instead of ranting politically here. I don't want stress in my LJ -- not fannish stress and certainly not impotent rage about the latest idiocies of the Bush Administration. And I was going to say something about Rosa Parks, but I will let the poem stand for itself, as Rita Dove says most things so much better than me. Must get up early as apaulled has an early meeting. Yeah, I'm going to go to bed.