By Leonard Nimoy
In my heart
Is the seed of the tree
Which will be me.
Nourished by understanding
Warmed by friends
Fed by loved ones
Matured by wisdom
Tempered by tears.
Time has stopped.
A minute is still a minute.
An hour is still an hour.
The past and the future
Hang in perfect balance.
All focused on the present.
A sweet flow of excitement
You are near.
It is nigita's fault that I dug these out, but whenever I read Nimoy's profundity, I immediately think of vertigo66, with whom I wrote slash before I knew it was called slash and before I knew anyone else had ever done it (well, other than the stuff in Star Trek: The New Voyages, and I really should post that "'I love you, Captain,' written on my heart" sonnet again because lord knows Bantam Books affected my life forever by publishing that). Anyway, apologies, and tomorrow we return you to Actual Poetry. *veg*
Once again I am thinking it might be easier to accept Kali as my personal Destroyer than it is to put up with my mother butting into Bar Mitzvah plans, but one pina colada made with Pussers Rum later, I am feeling much mellower than I was earlier in the day and don't even care that she sidestepped my husband to schedule a time to take photos in the sanctuary that suited her own Friday night dinner plans without even asking us first. And now that I am not trapped in a shoe store with her trying to force my kids to buy loafers with idiotic tassels on them because no one has ever in the history of the Jewish people been Bar Mitzvahed in less formal shoes, I can laugh about it. You know you're having a bad day when writing about Kate Mulgrew discussing Alzheimer's for TrekToday is more relaxing than shopping.
In the evening, to go with the pina colada, we watched The Island which was on cable and which we hadn't seen even though it's been on the "to rent" list ever since we realized we'd managed to miss it in the theater. I love dystopian sci-fi, even rip-off dystopian sci-fi with big plot holes and gratuitous action sequences, and I can sit through any PG13 movie with Sean Bean, Ewan McGregor, Scarlett Johansson, Steve Buscemi, Djimon Hounsou and Ethan Phillips even if the second half degenerates into classic Michael Bay with twice the explosions and three times the product placement of any previous film of his I've seen! The first third is really nicely creepy, reminded me at times of Equilibrium and I really have no complaints with the acting, even the very minor characters, but once we hit the car-and-plane-chase portion of the film, my brain turned off. (Though not completely, because two Ewan McGregors! Someone please tell me if there is Tom/Lincoln art somewhere!) I have nothing profound to say because the movie doesn't deserve it...kind of reactionary OMG CLONING BAD SCARY TECHNOLOGY EVIL theme, with visual borrowing of everything from Logan's Run to The Matrix to Soylent Green, but hey. Two Ewan McGregors with Sean Bean on top. Whoo!
I forgot to talk about this week's Brotherhood, but I am not sure I have much to say beyond the fact that I can't even feel sorry for the people who let Michael Caffee pressure them and then are unhappy when he starts taking over everything that matters to them. His body count is entirely too high at this point for me to root for him -- much as I can't warm up to Tommy, it's really hard to watch Michael keep degenerating, and I wish Eileen would just pick up and move somewhere else! Michael's surprising fidelity and attachment to what I thought was going to be a very brief girlfriend is kind of interesting though. And I was shocked that Rose had the kind of job she did...I expected to find out that she was a manager, just on the verge of breaking out of blue collar, not still behind a sewing machine. Though I was glad she had a lover! I enjoy her scenes a lot!
The view from Hell, as the trap door below the stage is known (when we were at the theater for a show, the witches used this to enter and to show Macbeth visions)...
...and a view of Heaven, the trap door in the ceiling! We did not get to see this one in use, regrettably, as there are no divinities or angelic beings in the current production of Macbeth.
Close-up of the "marble" and "carvings" around the stage...all fake, painted wood, as it was in Shakespeare's day. (There are a couple of photos of the Globe recreation in London here for comparison.)
Props from Macbeth near the trap door where they will be needed.
Headpieces in the women's dressing room.
Younger son was playing with his friend across the street after dinner and they invited him to sleep over, so I must retrieve him bright and early!