The Eagle and Captain America

The Butcher and I watched The Eagle tonight and laughed all the way through it. It’s terrible. Hilariously terrible. Parts were edited together so poorly that we had to rewind to tell what was going on. And the Romans were giants and quite a few of the Britons looked like Jesus. But, of course, in the end, the slave was freed and all fathers were redeemed and everyone learned lessons about how it’s okay to root for the deaths of your ancestors because they killed children. Or something.

Last night, the Redheaded Kid came over and we watched Captain America which was not the greatest movie ever, but I so appreciated the clever way they dealt with the whole cheesiness of the whole concept of Captain America that I just wanted to mention it.

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Coble Must Weigh in on This

I don’t know of how many of you are aware of Coble’s love for Abraham Lincoln, professional president and tall lanky guy, but she has a deep, abiding love for him. (There’s a rumor that she has a historically accurate tattoo of Lincoln’s second New Salem shop on her back, but I don’t think she’d go quite that far. Okay, there’s not really a rumor, but let’s start one!) And you may be aware that Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is going to be a movie. So, this is not obviously hot Daniel Day Lewis as Lincoln (with Sally Field as Mary Todd?! Genius or not quite right. I can’t decide. I’m uneasily leaning toward genius.) but Benjamin Walker, who strikes me as fine looking in real life, but looking a bit too much like Johnny Cash pretending to be Abraham Lincoln in the movie.

But this got me thinking. Is Johnny Cash secretly hot? I think Johnny Cash is fun to look at, but is he Abraham Lincoln levels of hot? Am I wrong to wish Johnny Cash: Vampire Hunter were a movie? Oh, lord, what about Hank Williams: Vampire Hunter? Speaking of tall, lanky guys. I think Hank Williams is prime to be reimagined as a vampire hunter. It wasn’t alcohol that did him in! It was the vampires, finally getting their revenge.

Or what about unlikely vampire hunters? Bob Hope and Bob Dole: Vampire Hunters? I would watch the shit out of that movie. Fred Thompson and Tommy Lee Jones would of course have supporting roles.

A Lull

I’m in a bit of a lull right now. Sue is stewing. Things are out various places, waiting to hear back. Evenings have been crowded, so I haven’t had time to read or write. Glad my next book is a Sookie Stackhouse one. I need something to wash away Flannery O’Connor. Ha, that would be quite the marketing campaign–are you feeling depressed and like something terrible might happen to you at any second because you don’t care for peacocks? Read Charlaine Harris today and feel much better.

Shoot, if I ran a bookstore, I would package O’Connor with Harris just so my customers would come back. There are probably a bunch of other writers who should be paired that way. I’m thinking Dostoevsky and Neil Gaiman. James Joyce and Richard Kadrey. They’re not really opposites, but antidotes for each other.

Oh, hell, if I ever get around to opening Dr Jack’s Spiritual Supplies: Serving Nashville Since 1850 (note the lack of a period so that I, like Dr Pepper, am not claiming to be a real doctor), I’m going to have a corner devoted to books that will affect your soul paired with their antidotes.

My headache is gone. I think it left yesterday, but today is the first time that its absence has been really noticeable. The thing that frightens me most about pain, and I’ve thought this ever since I fucked up my ankle in grad school, is that even when fixing the pain is somewhat simple, fixing how you hold yourself to stop the pain is more difficult. With my headache, I think I’ve been tense to steal myself against it, and now that it’s gone, I have to remind myself to relax.

With my ankle, I still go down steps leading with my right foot, almost always. Right foot down a step. Left foot joins it on that step. Right foot down a step. Left foot joins it on that step. And it is purely psychological. I don’t need to go down steps this way. But knowing that it’s a brain quirk and stopping from doing it are truly not the same things. The way I take stairs is like the way I have panic attacks. Something I feel like I understand well enough to stop, but clarity has no effect on it.

But here’s the weird thing. On Saturday, when we met with Cooper, without thinking, I took the stairs at Bongo Java normally. I would love to go back there when it’s less crowded and try to figure out why. They should be bad stairs for me. They’re open on one side–the railing is just a metal bar and some decorative wire. They’re dark, so knowing where to put your foot is difficult, and they lead to an open high up space. Plus, when you get to the bottom of them they change width. Lots of shit there that can fuck with a gal’s perception.

But here’s what I’m wondering–is it because they’re narrow? Does being able to put my hand on a railing and my hand on the wall make a difference?

I don’t know. But now I wonder.