11/19 Okay, I had ANOTHER dream about missing the plane. i can't ever remember this hapening before. Why is my subconscious so freaky deaky? (knocks on skull) hellooooo in there. travel is FINE. GREAT. you LOVE it.

I lugged my dense little suitcase on the train to work. For some reason, I decided not to use my time-and-travel-stained austrian army backpack. The big ancient tan one with lots of brown leather straps on it. It's served me well, it's pretty comfortable to carry, and punk as hell. (it'd be punker to have no backpack at all, probably.) Be that as it may, I'm luggin' grandma's gift for college, the smallest of three black suitcases. I think it'll fit as carry-on (the best aspect of the backpack), but it's packed so tightly it'll create its own gravity field before long. Maybe i shouldn't have brought the leather pants. naaaah.
Last night I hung out with my ex/not ex and looked at old coins. He's pricing them for his mom. there was a penny from 1786. Some silver dollars from the 1890s.. a ton of stuff, some of it probably worth thousands. All in a couple plastic bags on his couch. Holding them in my hand, looking at generic women and specific men, feeling their weight, reminded me again what a history geek. When I went to City Hall to get a copy of my birth cetificate, i got sweaty palms just being NEAR that archive of birth, death, and marriage certificates going back hundreds of years. In a dingy cement basement, I peeked over the shoulder of the clerk at ledger books stacked unevenly on the floor. archives are sexy. libraries too.
Okay I'm off. I'll update from Sweden if I can. please write me!

11/18 The number of things to do before leaving expands the longer you think about it. I'm not even sure if I should bring a camera. I guess I should.
Wow. My mom just faxed me information about a "Noise festival" called "nature is perverse" partially sponsored by some group called fylkingen. It's happening right at the end of my trip, but I'll be there for at least one and maybe two days of it. whee!

I saw "Twilight" the other night. And I have to say it's a really good movie. I mean, the cast alone should tell you it's worth watching: Paul Newman, Susan Sarandon, Gene Hackman, James Garner, Reese Witherspoon, Giancarlo Esposito and even Emmett Walsh (of many Coen Bros. movies). Holy moly. You forget what good acting is like.. James Garner was amazing. And how does Paul Newman stay really really sexy, at 72? Not that someone that age shouldn't be sexy, but he totally out-sexies most strapping young fellows prancing around onscreen today. All of the acting was so topnotch, it was almost unbearable. A good (caucasian) noir film about corruption and greed and all that stuff. Double crossing, plot twists. But so uncontrived, and -I can't say it enough- such acting!

11/17 For a minute, the low heavy stormclouds over the city exactly resembled a huge mushroom cloud. unnerving. Seen Atomic Cafe too many times. If there had ever been an actual nuclear war in the 1950s, a single bomb would have wiped out the country, based on the kind of 'safety' info people got from those handy "duck and cover" filmstrips. One can only hope that the level of idiocy in those flicks meant that the US was never intending for any nuclear action to take place. Although they were certainly continuing experimenting on people of small island nations whom the US had already decided were expendable. urgh. not the train of thought i meant to hop. hijack me someone...
I had weird dreams last night. The second set of dreams about going to Sweden. Actually about missing the plane to Sweden, just from messing around in the airport. I actually ran out onto the runway to try and get my plane. Then I was explaining that I'd missed the flight because I was sick, so I should get on the next plane or sleep in the airport and wait for the next one in the morning. But the airport closed at 11, so I was trying to figure out if it was worth it to come home on the T and go out again tomorrow, or just stay. I then realized that all I'd packed was six pairs of old jeans and no shirts. Then the dream changed into one i don't remember much, except that it involved a man with two penises (one above the other). Freudian analysts would love me --a couple weeks ago I dreamed that I was riding/being pulled through the ocean by a huge lion, and I was reaching out for bagels which were floating in the water around us. lord help me and my subconscious.

Trying to rack up enough sleep in the next couple days to be able to survive going out again on Wednesday night. To see DJ Dazee, from London. She was pretty good last time i saw her, and she always is wicked enthusiastic, which is nice. Of course, it's probably not the wisest plan for the night, considering I'll probably be out till 2:30 and must get up at 7:45 and go straight to work and from work to the airport. Oh yeah, I have to finish packing. hah. And Wednesday before that I must go to the Harvard Business School library. My prof. wrote me a letter of introduction, so I am now ALLOWED to set foot in there until December 4th. Of course, I'll be in Sweden until the 29th, but I'll have to make do. those are definitely whitey's oatmeal cookies.

11/13 "Those are not your oatmeal cookies. Those are Whitey's oatmeal cookies."

Saw Pleasantville, with my girl Reese Witherspoon. All the reviews identify her as the girl from Twilight (in which she is totally underutilized), but she really is the girl from Freeway, about which you should see my rant in an earlier journal. I think, as long as this site is down anyway, that I'm going to restructure just a little -no, no pictures yet- and put all my journalized rants about film in the film section. how's that sound?
Anyway, Pleasantville was okay. As my friend Jimmy Rupture put it, a one-trick pony, plus the main actor is irritating. But everyone else is pretty good. Two modernday white hetero kids from probably Southern California get zapped into a 1950s TV show, where everything is in black and white. Reese introduces sex, and then reading, into the two-dimensional world. And color starts to break out. Eventually the still-black-and-white people try to repress it and the weakest metaphor comes to the fore, with "no coloureds" signs, and a diner being trashed (hello, Do The Right Thing). The movie stood up much better as a psychological metaphor than a social one. Everything gets solved superfast by annoying-boy who spouts simplistic deep thoughts. The nice parts are watching the simple characters discover that there can be more to life than their roles - the guy who runs the diner who discovers painting, and the woman who discovers masturbation (in a very nice scene indeed!), and a tiny bit of independence. It's the good acting of those roles that makes it fun to watch. The fun is also in all the ways it is unrealistic- like the writing appearing in the book as Bud describes the story, or the moment when nobody understands Mary Sue's question 'what's outside of pleasantville?' When it starts seeming more literal and historical it gets iffy. really iffy.
The attempts at a racial metaphor are so weak as to unravel the movie. Because once you go there, you can't ignore the fact that everyone in the movie (even when it gets some color) is white, anglo, middleclass. The only hint of non-caucasian folk is in the diner, after the guy begins painting. Not that we see anyone, but the jukebox comes to life with rock'n'roll, and jazz... hmmmm. That was annoying. But it was kinda funny that the villian teenboy is named Whitey. It does have the best sample ever: "Those are not your oatmeal cookies. those are Whitey's oatmeal cookies." Without the casting of all the main characters (except for annoyingboy), it would be a nothing movie. As long as you don't expect too much from it it's amusing.

I'm loving my new Buju Banton CD (even the lovers' stuff at which my roomate scoffs). his voice is so intense. And since he's found religion (which usually doesn't reassure me), he doesn't seem to be singing violent or homophobic songs. Based on statistical observation of male dance-hall vocalists from the Caribbean, I'm not sure that he has become suddenly queer-friendly, but at least now he sings much more positive things, and one song which I can dedicate to the spirit of those beaten down for who they are: "Why should I change to gain acceptance/Can't tell a man how to wear his pants/...Every single thing we do we are liable to get a sentence/ but we won't be like a flea just like how the more we see the less you hear we speak/my brother don't you be like stubborn sheep/Blessed are he when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for Jah sake/...for so persecute they the prophets before you and me."

If anyone knows of any specifically queer-friendly or queer dancehall artists, let me know quicker-than-quick, cuz I'd love to hear them. that's been the thorn in my lions paw since I started getting into the sounds of dancehall. help me pull it out if you can.