What's on my mind tonight?
Harry Potter 7: Yes, still. Read an encomium to one of the greats from one of the greats (and no hissing, you city of snakes, you) here. I'm an enthusiastic, nay, euphoric Potterhead. And I think. Sometimes even clearly. You go, Jo! Dickens gots nothing on you. And a deep bow to Uncle Steve, too. He's our Virginia Woolf. (Think hard, maybe it will click.)
Quitting smoking: I quit three months ago. But tonight, I drank tequila. Not sure writng and quitting are mixy. 'Nuff said.
Joss Whedon: Can I be you when I continue to refuse to grow up?
Demystifying Scientology: Because I don't care how famous they are, they're just nuts. And people who proselytize bug. I may kick the next earnest Dianetician who tries to give me a stress test. Does that mean I need one? BTW, you can find the questions -- and El Ron's proscribed answers here. My favorite: "Are your decisions swayed by personal interests?" Well, duh.
80's redux: It's still big in SF, and I still keep hoping it will go away. Earlier tonight I was at a bar chock full of just-barely-20-somethings, and I saw more skinny jeans and asymmetrical necklines than ever flew in 1984. It's like a satire, only the actors think it's a straight job. The music, I'll give ya (cause who doesn't love George Michael? Poor stoned thing . . .), but it's already past passe. And still the fashions persist -- why, god, why? Trust someone who was there the first time: teal and horizontal stripes are nobody's friends. (And yet I love me some leggings under skirts. Don't even try to make sense of it.) Below is possibly the ugliest dress ever. What was I just saying about teal and . . . OMG are those GOLD stripes? Oh, fer fucksake . . .
Ugliest. Dress. Ever. Actually for sale. Not cheap, either. I quit.