September 25th, 2006

love, together

lovely day

Sunday was a really nice day.

boobirdsfly and I had planned to go out for brunch (her 10-2 rehearsal was adjusted to start at noon instead) but we slept in instead. We got up, and Boo made pancakes and I made scrambled eggs for breakfast.

She went off to rehearsal, and I read a book (Charles Yu's Third Rate Superhero, a gift from Boo; more on that in another post) and browsed the internet, and went for a run. I got back from my run just as she finished rehearsal, and she called me and invited me to come with her to go grocery-shopping. I agreed -- buying food is more fun with two -- and she came and got me.

We went to the library to pick up books, and over to a dollar store, and bought new bungee cords for Max's basket (Max is Boo's red Honda two-wheeler), and puttered around replacing the old cords, which were cracking and might have dumped the groceries. We scooted down to Lake Washington, in a winding, green, Indian Summerish afternoon. We parked Max, and walked by the lake, looking at rich-people's houses, and admiring the boats. We walked past the marina, with creaking docks and sailboat ropes, and Boo sighed "sounds like dinnertime and jammies," she said. I love her boat-girl aesthetic.

We stopped at the BluWater Leschi, and had a beer (well, one each) and shared a bowl of seviche. Yum. I got flirted with by a five-month-old baby at the next table, who thought my high-contrast eyebrows were the coolest thing ever, and would grin and giggle and crinkle her nose at me whenever I would wiggle them.

"She really likes you," said Boo.

"Just proves I'm not a monster," I said.

The baby's dad laughed. "Babies do have that spider-sense," he said.

We walked back to the scooter, and zipped back up the hill (Max works hard on the big Seattle hills with two of us on board), and went shopping. Slightly too much, and Max's newly-affixed basket was full, but we still had extra. I stowed half what was left in Boo's backpack (which I was wearing, being on the back of the bike and also because Boo's shoulders have been hurting a bit) and she put the rest between her ankles, and we rode down the hill. Max has probably never had quite so much on board at once. We got home just as the sun touched the Olympics, turning the sky a glowing smear of red, yellow, and blue.

Boo made dinner (a from-scratch curry!), and I finished the Charles Yu book. After dinner, we started Angels in America, which I'd never seen. I am amazed.

I am more and more loving and being loved by this woman. My life is good.
amused, smiling

[media log]

wow, I've been quite the media consumer junkie gourmet recently. In the last week:

Moving pictures
The Science of Sleep in the theater with boobirdsfly, blackwingedboy, and drshorn. A sweet, beautiful, visually astonishing movie. And it really shows off the acting chops of Gael García Bernal and Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Angels in America, by Tony Kushner (directed by Mike Nichols). Wow. It's "about AIDS" (though it's about a lot more than that), and it's thus unavoidably political, and the unbelievable cast makes the whole thing hard to stop watching. We went through two hours and it felt like about 40 minutes. Still have four hours to go.

Six Feet Under, Season Three, disk 4. I heard that this season wasn't very good, but I've been enjoying it. Well, "enjoying" perhaps is the wrong word: it's been vivid and powerful and moving.

Witch Hunter Robin, disk 5. I must say I'm kinda confused at this point. Other fans of this show may know what I mean -- or not. Maybe you're getting something I'm not, but I have lost track of the thread of the story for the most part.

City of Saints and Madmen, by John VanderMeer. I'm about halfway through, and this is a weird slipstream guide to a strange city that might be the past, or the future, or perhaps some other place. The style is deliberately all over the place; a history here, a travel guide there, art criticism, footnotes, and third-person omniscient narration. Creepy and yet fun.

Third Rate Superhero, by Charles Yu. boobirdsfly gave me this as a present; the "superhero" title was probably the eye-catcher there. (To the smartasses in the peanut gallery: she did inscribe it "For my first-rate boyfriend", so that eliminates the other obvious guess.) It's a collection of short stories, and it's definitely the kind of contemporary fiction that I enjoy: Yu doesn't feel constrained to tell stories "in the real world" -- if it serves his purpose, superpowers can be normal, or a doomed marriage can be described in LaTeX-ified mathematical proof form (with points I,II,III and corollaries IIa and IIIa,b). I enjoy Yu's willingness to let form be a big part of the story itself. One story is told entirely from within advertising-speak ("My wife and I spent several years in Urban Paradise. Our eyes met over my foamy macchiato and her herbal-organic chai blend as Spokeswoman looked on in benevolent disdain.") and another is told in a hyper-precise overblown "scientific explanation" mode that I have been known to adopt myself ,especially when pulling boobirdsfly's leg ("It is a widely-tested but under-reported fact that 'maybe', when offered in a two-part mutual-benefit-exploration situation with imperfect information, i.e. two human beings attempting to establish whether a romantic relationship is a possibility between the two of them, i.e. dating, is an expression that corresponds not to 'probably' or to 'most probably' but in fact to 32.49802625%".) I paraphrase all quotes because I do not have the book with me.

American Born Chinese, by Gene Yang. A peculiar triptych of interleaved stories: a fantasy Monkey King storyline (although rather than a Buddhist or Confucian [or Hindu] version of the Monkey King, this is Catholic-flavored), the story of a young Chinese-American boy, and the (television-show parody?) story of an Anglo boy and his somehow-Chinese "cousin Chin-Kee", a vicious stereotype. The three stories fold together by the end of the book. The art is super-stylized, and very expressive. I read some of these when they were self-published as little square pamphlets last summer, and it is nice to see the beautiful paperback they've been assembled into. Issues of race, ethics, honesty, and religion; also the throes of growing up in America, regardless of race.

Plus the last few issues of The Nation, which I've finally caught up on.