Yurk. Also, from the ridiculous to the sublime
The yurk part: experiments in raising my activity level to previous modest heights are proving unsuccessful, or at least inspiring undesirable repercussions. Which is to say I have barely got the hellpack hurtled today, and possibly in slo-mo, I’m too whacked to be sure of what my legs have been doing, but Pav can create her own alternate realities, and hucklebutts rather well on her extending lead, given the absence of large inconveniently-placed trees. And the hellhounds are, after all, well into middle age, and are happy to saunter along, looking elegant and fabulous, with a brief sprint when no one is looking but me.
The rest is a daze.* And this one. Word. After. Another. doohickey, whatsit, blog is just beyond me tonight.**
But I don’t want to leave you entirely without frivolous reading material. So here’s the ridiculous part:
B_twin, knowing my feelings about Peter Jackson***, sent this to me several weeks ago and I laughed and laughed and saved the address so I could hang it on the blog some day† and today is the day. Some of you’ll have already seen it . . . but there are paragraphs definitely worth revisiting.
The sublime part: http://www.diegrossestille.de/english/
Aloysius loaned me the DVD . . . oh, months ago. Probably months and months. I watched it once fairly quickly but really—even after you’ve watched all the extra bits and clips—it raises more questions than it answers so I wanted to watch it again before I gave it back . . . and that plan of a plan went on kind of a while. Poor Aloysius finally asked for its return so I hastily rewatched it right around the time B_twin sent me the SMAUG review . . . and these two so clearly belong together.†† You know. Ridiculous. Sublime.
The SILENCE web site is a little obscure but keep clicking. The film is a documentary about a ‘closed’ Carthusian monastery and it’s . . . well, it’s amazing. I didn’t, myself, ever forget I was watching a film—I’m a trifle resistant to arty films and this one has AAAAAAAART stamped on every frame, and the suggested use of it as a meditation aid I’m like, what?—but the mixture as demonstrated in these monks’ lives of the spiritual and the practical, the outer and inner, the ordinary and extraordinary, was lovely and moving. And the landscape is spectacular. Although I’m glad I don’t live there, aside from the whole no-talking thing.
* * *
* There was a lot of lap time today. This is now the second and third generation of critters to think that ME is a great invention.
** Also I need to claw myself together to go to my monks tomorrow night.
*** The brief polite version is that I thought THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING was a mostly honourable failure, I hated TWO TOWERS and never saw RETURN OF THE KING. There was never any way in any universe similar or dissimilar to this one that I was going to see what smashed and broken melee he was going to make of THE HOBBIT.
† Preferably before the third film comes out, but greatness, in reviewing as in everything, is timeless.
†† I am sick. Yes, I know.
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