Monday, December 13, 2004
Voicelessness is no fun. Sure, it's the ideal excuse for being uncommunicative, but it takes the joy out of watching 'Angels in America' with my sister since it makes commenting, giggling or shrieking plain impossible. That show is bizarre. It's full of brilliant (and quotable) dialogue, but towards the end goes into weird and disturbing religious/blasphemous territory which I can't make head or tail of. It also happens to be one of those rare films to which the phrase 'homoerotic subtext' doesn't apply. There's quite a bit of soap opera (Guy A leaves Guy B for Guy C, who has walked out on his valium-addicted wife. Angst happens.), coarse language and nudity. We were pleasantly shocked.
Had an espionage dream earlier in the morning, which makes for a refreshing change. I got to handle firearms, dress like an adult, pick up a package at Tiananmen Square after giving a series of pre-arranged signals. There was some sort of plot involving double-crossing/ triple-crossing, counterintelligence, a bugged library book that was later stolen during a blackout, but I don't think it was meant to be understood. Guest appearances were made by Morgan Freeman, Elektra, Lady Deathstrike and Wolverine. My brain probably ran out of steam and resorted to substituting authentic spy thriller with comic book fantasy. It's far easier to arrange superpowered duels - clandestine meetings and subterfuge are too cerebral to be the stuff of dreams.
words were spilled on Monday, December 13, 2004