Meanderings: January 4, 2000

Tuesday,
January 4, 2000

Yeah, this is the flu. I feel like I've just gone five rounds with Jackie Chan, and he opened a can of whupass on my butt. These aren't muscle aches -- these are muscle meat tenderizers. Ow.

So, masochist that I am, I went into work just long enough to pick up some documents I need to finish by next week, marked my intention to disappear on my whiteboard, and left. Barring death, dismemberment or a need to use the graphics programs on my work machine, I'm home until the 10th. Which is nice -- would be nicer if I didn't feel the world spinning around me, though.

In the meantime, I just saw the 1997 version of LOLITA, with Jeremy Irons and Dominique Swain. Actually, I only caught the last ten minutes of it, which was. . .well, disturbing. Not because of the material -- I've read the novel, I saw the movie with James Mason, so I know the story. It's just that. . .

Well. . .

Look, I have the flu. My muscles ache, I'm extremely hot and feverish, and I tend to get dizzy at the drop of a hat. In other words, my mental processes are not quite under my control, and I'm free-associating like anything. I just sat down to watch the last ten minutes of the flick -- I did not count on seeing Frank Langella's bouncing goolies being dangled before my eyes.

I don't know, maybe I'm just having flashbacks to that art course in college. It was just the way he kept flashing bits and pieces here and there -- "Yeah, here's my chest, yeah, that's my leg, whoops, almost put it on display there, ha ha." I'm sitting there wondering, well, is he gonna whip it out or what? And then Jeremy Irons starts shooting at him, and all decorum is flung to the wind as he pelts down a corridor, robe flapping in the breeze.

The camera angle didn't help, being set low so that you'd have to look up as they ran past. Very nice, Frank -- I'm sure your wife is a happy woman, and you go on my list of Actors Brave Enough to Show Their Frontal Bits. Now put them away, dear.

I think I need some more sleep. Or maybe drugs. Anything to get this image out of my head. . .

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