Ralph and Joan grew up together, and were best friends for much oftheir lives. They went to the same high school, and eventually thesame university. It was in the second year of their economicsprogram that they both had a life-altering experience. Ralph'recovered', but Joan dropped out of the program, her partingwords to Ralph being 'Come to me someday, and I'll take somethingfrom you, and in doing so give you happiness'. Years passed.. Ralphgraduated, entered business, and several years later, was a partnerin a large investment firm. One day, when waking up to go to work,he thought of Joan, and a curiosity filled his mind. That evening,he contacted Joan's family, and found that she was living in thewilderness not far from where he grew up. Two weekends later, hedrove out there, and after some time, found a tent, some hangingclothes, and a small fire. It was empty, so he waited. In time,the owner returned, and it was her. They caught up on old stories,laughed, and all the time he marveled at how they both had changedso much. She was one of those who had given up on modernsociety, and literally lived her life out in commune with nature.She believed herself, lightheartedly, to be its guardian. He wasn'tquite sure of her sanity, or at least found her different enoughto be quite surprised. The evening drew to a close, as the sunbegan to set, and as he began to get ready to go, she placed herarm on his, and said "Before you go, ask me your question". Hefelt confused, staring into her eyes, suddenly frightened atsomething indescribable he saw there. A question? He didn'thave one.. but couldn't tell her that in the face of such rawdetermination. "Umm.. Well, I don't really know what to ask..if you could name the thing that most seperates the rest of us fromnature, that if we gave it up, we'd take the biggest step towardsunion, I'll ... I'll give it up". .. He sat back, embarassed at hisoutburst, and wondered what she would say. She sat back in thoughtfor a moment, the word "investment firm" being chewed in her mouthlike a salty taffy. She leaned forward, and said "pockets". Hewas nonplussed... "Pockets?" She smiled, and waved him out ofthe tent.
So, today I did most of what I wanted so far. I went to the waterfront(first time in quite a long time), and saw "Freddy vs Jason". No, don'troll your eyes at me! Heh. Anyhow, I think I basically saw it becauseI started the (Nightmare) series when I was younger, and I wanted to seewhat'll probably be the conclusion. Was it a good film? I really foundit hard to judge -- I was always into the Nightmare series in the sameway I was into the Leprechaun series -- it's one of those fairlyrare Horror/Comedy genre films. It wasn't really good like the lastNightmare series, but wasn't really bad like the second one. It hadsome irritating narration at the beginning (irritating but necessary,I guess), some pretty neat special effects, but felt like it was movinga bit too fast. And, surprisingly, I found myself really rootingfor Freddy, as opposed to Jason, or the people. I think that's one ofthe things about Horror/Comedy -- the villains tend to be prettyappealing and long-lasting, while the people tend not to be. I kepthoping that we would see the daughter or the father from Nightmare 1..oh well. That rootingness though.. I guess it's a strange cousin tochildhood heroes... I sometimes find myself absentmindedly unfurlingone of my hands in a Nightmare kind of way... Odd, but I know thatother people do that vague kind of thing -- If you know someonewell enough, and know what they grew up with, you can often spotlittle bits of the characters that most captured their imaginationin their mannerisms. Intitively, I feel that the selection of thosecharacters tells us deep things about peoples' character, but I'mnot really certain about that. When people have big life changes,do their old icons change too? If not, and they lie forgotten, couldenough reference to them offer a crack into which a crowbar couldundo some changes made since? Am I carrying a metaphor a bit toofar?
Oh, yes, I've been getting some pressure from certain people inmy family to settle down with someone and have kids. It's been directlyput to me that I'm getting older, and all that other stuff I'm sure youcan imagine and fill in yourself. I really don't know what to thinkabout that.
The Red Army Choir singing "Hey, Uhnem", played through some goodspeakers, very loud, is really .. well, not uplifting, because I've foundthat very little good russian music (that I've heard, anyhow) is, butit grabs you. There's a certain grand, stoicism in the face of a knownsticky end. I really wish I spoke russian so I could sing along to thesongs I like that are in it. But.. that goes the same with a lot ofother music (and books) in other languages.
It's weird to think about it, but wally's not as young as he once was.He's definitely shown signs of aging....