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[personal profile] mallorys_camera
In the middle of the night, I woke from a really vivid, elaborate dream:

Ben had fallen in love with a girl from a hippie evangelist Christian sect.

In the dream's meta-tags, there'd been a lot of history: He'd left to be with her. He'd come back. He couldn't live without her & left again. He came back. He had to go back to the sect to get his stuff, and he'd only be gone for four days, and he was definitely coming back—but when he came back, he was very sorry, but his love for this woman was bigger than everything

I wasn't hurt. I was furious. Get out now, I snarled, and pushed him out the door.

He was shocked, But-but—

I wasn't sad over Ben at all. The only thing that was on my mind was how was I going to handle my life on my own? Two kids and all these animals!

###

The girl Ben had fallen in love with was married to the leader of the hippie evangelist Christian sect, and I was hip to the fact that the leader was essentially pimping her out, and that's how the leader got recruits for his sect.

Not expecting to be kicked out, Ben had invited the girl, her husband, and their four impossibly platinum-haired kids to live with us.

I found them in one of the bedrooms.

OUT, I thundered.

The girl slit her eyes and looked at me haughtily. Of course, I was curious about her—she was short, slim, had chestnut hair and oddly tilted eyes. Nothing to look at. I was much better looking. She must be some kind of sexual goddess, I thought because that was one thing Ben was very, very good at, sex, and I often felt a little inadequate because my sexual needs and performance are on the simple side: Does not take much for passion to ignite in me.

I shoved the girl and her husband/leader out the door.

Felt a bit sorry for the children who were sweet and innocent, but no, they'd have to go, too.

###

(Again in the dream meta-tags.) Stephen Silverman had found me the apartment.

I'd gone to him in great distress, and he'd told me, This is a very special building. Chateau D'Amboise (?) Rent controlled: $1,500 a month. It's a very special building; only special people are allowed to live here.

The apartment was very messy, crowded with unpacked boxes and cages in which lived a number of cats—a large ginger female and a tiny translucent Bengal, no bigger than my fingernail, among others.

There were also several black and white puppies running around yipping.

You've got to get RTT to walk the puppies, otherwise they'll shit all over the place. And you've got to get the cats water

Only in transferring the tiny snail-like Bengal to a cage with water, I somehow killed it. Felt an impulse to mourn and reminded myself sternly: You don't have time for that now.

Went out with the puppies. Somehow ended up at one of the outdoor cafeterias at U.C. Berkeley where I filled my pockets up with candy. Knew I had to get back to the Chateau, but didn't know which bus to take. Guessed I'd have to find a taxi, but could not find one.

###

Finally, I was back at the Chateau, only I couldn't remember which floor I lived on. Took the elevator to various floors. The floors all had various themes—I remember the tenth floor was Paris: You got out of the elevator, and you were in France.

Somehow I was in another family's apartment, & I recognized the family—You're Tamsin's mother, aren't you? But they did not recognize me. I did notice, however, that even though the family had lived in the apartment for years and years and years, it was almost completely empty. The interior decor of my apartment, as cluttered as it was, was actually more attractive.

Finally went back downstairs to the lobby and asked the concierge: Where do I live?

The concierge was a burly gentleman in elaborate livery with an elaborately curled mustache. He consulted an illuminated medieval scroll and told me, You live on the 15th floor—

And I awoke.

###

The heat dome had not yet descended yesterday, and so I spent four very pleasant hours playing in the dirt at the New Paltz community garden.

The New Paltz community garden is vast:



This morning I woke up with a mysterious stomach ache & kind of freaked because how am I gonna keep Black Chicken comfortable when the Heat Dome descends plus my car's AC isn't working—it's an expensive fix and requires sitting for an entire day at the dealership in Kingston—& suppose the Nazis invade, and I have to flee?

But I suppose it will all work out.

It almost always does.
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Jun. 20th, 2025 04:41 pm

Well, this is annoying

oursin: Grumpy looking hedgehog (Grumpy hedgehog)
[personal profile] oursin

I think I mentioned (did I?) that my research position at Former Workplace was terminated some while ago due to Internal Upheavals.

Well, thinks I, I still have research connection with Esteemed Academic Institution where I did my PhD and professional qualification, providing me with a) access to a research library and b) an institutional email address.

This connection was renewed some 5 years ago and comes up for renewal in the autumn, and being a forethoughtful hedjog I thought I would start mentioning this to person I know best in the department with which I am associated.

And, dammit, they have gone and changed the rules.

Some years ago (in fact before my last renewal but I guess institutional processes move slowly) there was a massive hoohah when somebody who also had some honorary connection with Esteemed Academic Institution turned out to be using it to bring EAI into disrepute by making it seem as though it had given official imprimatur to rather dodgy intellectual activities they were up to. Plus, there was a certain degree of mystery, or at least, lack of institutional memory, as to how person had even obtained this honorary position in the first place. (Or at least, nobody was copping to knowing.)

So, they are tightening up the rules so that you have to have much more of a formal position - e.g. be doing a collaborative project with somebody in the department - to be assigned honorary research status. So alas, am no longer eligible.

*Mutters obscenities*

Am wondering whether I can find friends in other institutions who might provide some similar position according me library access....

Jun. 23rd, 2025 11:05 am

It's time for some NYC-picking!

conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
Now, I've already told you about the alleys (no alleys in Manhattan) and right on red (none of that either), and now it's time for - garbage.

Since the 1990s it's been the law that residential garbage in NYC has to have the recyclables sorted out. And since this year we also have to separate out the compost, though weirdly they only pick that up once a week, I've complained about this. It's completely backwards.

Anyway, as I said, it's been the law since the 90s that you can't put your cans and bottles in with your regular trash. Do people always follow that law? Oh, heck no. But if you don't and the city catches you at it they'll give you a $300 ticket, and if you don't pay they put a lien on the house. So even if you don't care, your landlord might, and if they care and perhaps only have one tenant at that location you can bet they won't just eat the cost.

And if your protagonist is even minimally conscientious she'll at least glance around for a recycle bin before tossing her water bottle in with the regular trash.

(As a reference here, our terrible neighbors, who have had sanitation and once the fire department called on them multiple times due to the trash they pile up in their yard, still separate out the bottles and cans from the regular trash. Though in their case they may somewhat optimistically believe they'll get around to redeeming them one of these days, honestly, who knows how they think.)

This rant is courtesy of Elsbeth, which Jenn has been watching. Sure, Elsbeth is a snoop and the best way to dispose of several bushels worth of murderous apple pulp was probably to flush it, but all the same - it's weird that such a generally responsible character goes straightaway to throw out her water bottle in the general trash in somebody's house without at least checking that there's no recycle bin.
Jun. 20th, 2025 08:39 am

Driving Away

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[personal profile] mallorys_camera


Met up with BB, back from Germany.

We caught up on gossip—more on his side than my side. I live an exceedingly quiet life.

And then we talked about death, which is something I've been thinking about quite a lot recently.

"Wait! You think about death?" I asked.

"Oh, only like every day for one or two hours," BB replied. "And have been since I was a kid."

##

Did I think about death when I was a kid? Only once that I can remember: I was three, maybe four years old, and sitting in the back of my grandfather's old Chrysler. (Even today, the smell of stale cigarette smoke is comforting to me because it reminds me of my grandfather!) We were parked at Coney Island. My mother, my two aunts, and my little cousin David were also crammed into the Chrysler, and my grandfather was expounding in his melifluous voice about how one day soon, the sea would rise up and swallow the land—

Four-year-old children have no sense of time, so I figured that my grandfather was saying that the sea would rise up in 10 minutes or so. And I would cease to be...

I didn't have any particularly negative associations with my own extinction. It was just something that was going to happen.

But I was practical. Clearly one should avoid extinction if one could. Why don't we just drive away? I chirped at my grandfather.

"Wait!" said BB. "You believe in reincarnation! So, didn't you think you would be reincarnated?"

"Well, I had very strong memories of having once been somebody else at that point in my life," I said. "But I don't think I was old enough to attach any system of causality. So, no. I didn't think about reincarnation. I only thought about the enormous wave that would wipe everything out—and me with it. It wasn't an unpleasant thought! But I figured if there were other options, we should take them."



We met at the oh-so-charming Gardiner Bakehouse: great coffee, interesting pastries, and an outstanding view of the Gunks, which unfortunately, no camera can separate out from the telephone wires:



The Gardiner Bakehouse is hosting some kind of storytelling event:



"You should enter," BB said.

"I should!" I said.

So, maybe I will.

###

Other than that, it was lots o' Remuneration. (I have a deadline coming up, which I have ignored successfully but which I should probably double up on.) And a trip to the gym through looming thunder clouds, which fortunately did not break till I was back from the gym. A good thing! The storms brought temperatures down by maybe 10 degrees, so that it's relatively cool this morning.

And now I must take advantage of the relatively cool temperatures to scamper off to New Paltz and do some gardening, even though I'd much rather sit here with my eyes slightly unfocused.
Jun. 20th, 2025 09:53 am

(no subject)

oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] bzeep and [personal profile] tournevis!
Jun. 22nd, 2025 12:22 am

WTF even is this?

conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
"Square children's book with hex code 03fcdf for the covers"

Why. Just. Why...? Seriously, who thinks that a hex code is a better description than the name of the color in English?

(This time, I wasn't paraphrasing. I usually do, but....)

*****************


Read more... )
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
I noticed something I didn't notice before about Ascencia. Read more... )

**************


Read more... )
Jun. 19th, 2025 07:17 pm

(no subject)

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[personal profile] flemmings
Yesterday  was literally a washout with rain and thunder and, I am told, steam. Succeeded only in bagging the backyard vines and putting them out in the rain. Did not bag front yard vines because there are still more of them. Did free window AC of its shrinkwrap and plugged in to see if it still works, and it still does, so d.v. as my aunt the nun used to write (deo volente)  I am prepared for the heat dome.

Today, par contre, was bright cloudy, and blowy and dry. Blowy brought down a couple of trees in the Annex causing blackouts but here in Seaton we're still OK. But otherwise a nice early October day.

But have somehow reracked up my right leg, the one that went spasmy when I tripped,  so am back on the sofa with a heat pack under it. Physio tomorrow who may be able to do something about it. Tomorrow and not yesterday because I looked at the extended weather forecast on the weekend and declined to go out in the rain yet again.

Finished nothing except Iorich, finally, hoping that the conspiracy would make sense this time, which it didn't,  and a Miss Silver and an Inspector Littlejohn,  bicycle reading, easy and forgettable. 
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Jun. 19th, 2025 05:18 pm

Assorted stuff

oursin: The stylised map of the London Underground, overwritten with Tired of London? Tired of Life! (Tired of London? Tired of Life!)
[personal profile] oursin

Dept, vain adornment, sort of. Went to get my hair trimmed, as after several months since it was cropped it was getting a bit messy. I went back to the same place (not the one I used to go to in Bloomsbury, for Reasons including my favourite stylist doesn't seem to be there any longer) where the lady half of the operation does a very nice cut and it is not at all expensive.

I do wonder a bit though - it was entirely deserted except for me, and they wanted paying in cash. It may just be it was a quiet day and the cash card reader was broken. But one wonders if it's A FRONT for something, though pretty much every third business around there that's not an estate agent or a grocer's or fast food place of some ethnicity or other, this being a particularly multi-ethnic corner of Our Fair City, is a hairdresser's/barber's/beauty parlour.

***

Dept, this was RUDE: I don't care if he was young - ? primary school age - you do not do this on a London bus, infamy, infamy, etc. I was returning from the above appointment and the downstairs on the bus being rather chokka, went upstairs and scored the prime position, front seat, left-hand. And a stop or so later, little boy gets on and cheekily comes and sits next. Opposite - right hand - seat was empty and the whole top deck was by no means crowded.

Also he gave signs of being an incipient manspreader.

***

Dept of, further on sitting in the wrong place (I meant to add this to the post the other day on Being Inappropriate on Social Media): Tourists damage crystal-covered chair in Italian museum by sitting on it:

An Italian museum has contacted the police after two clumsy tourists almost wrecked a work of art while posing for photos.
Video footage released by Palazzo Maffei in Verona showed the hapless pair photographing each other pretending to sit on a crystal-covered chair made by the artist Nicola Bolla – described by the museum as an “extremely fragile” work.
The woman squats and does not seem to touch the work – called Van Gogh’s Chair and covered in Swarovski crystals – but the man is not so careful, sitting and then stumbling backwards as the seat buckles under his weight.
The pair can then be seen fleeing the room in footage that went viral over the weekend.

Jun. 19th, 2025 08:22 am

The Zone

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[personal profile] mallorys_camera
May and the first part of June were the coolest & wettest I can remember in a long while.

But some time in the middle of last night, a high-pressure dome descended upon the quaint & scenic Hudson Valley like a bell jar trapping taxonomic specimens.

Gonna be hot.

Gonna be uncomfortable.

I'm gonna have to be out of the house by 6 am each morning to avoid getting heat stroke when I garden.

###

Meanwhile, I did not leave the house yesterday despite good intentions.

I Remunerated virtuously throughout the day and when I met my quota—1,500 words—reluctantly slid on my leggings and prepared to leave for the gym.

But it was raining when I got into my car and raining even harder when I got to the turn-off for Highway 52, and I reminded myself: You don't like driving in the rain!

In fact, I don't like driving anywhere! I grew up in New York City where there's a perfectly wonderful public transportation system and as far as I'm concerned, no reason at all to have anything to do with automobiles.

I was nearly 30 by the time I learned to drive. I was living in California by then, and you cannot live in California without driving. Learning to drive was one of the bravest things I've ever done because honestly—when I think about zooming down a highway at 60 mph in a contraption of metal & plastic, it seems fraught with danger to me. But I did it because I had to—look at me! Pioneer woman! Laura Ingalls Wilder ain't got nothin' on me-ee-eee!—and I'm glad that I did. But I've never been particularly comfortable driving.

###

Also, I'm not big on exercising for exercise's sake.

I raced bicycles for many years, and I used to love that. And as recently as when I lived in Ithaca, I was riding 20 miles a day.

But here even though I live in the country, the roads teem with automobiles, and their drivers seem pretty feckless. Riding a bicycle seems like it would be pretty dangerous for an old lady like me.

So, it's the occasional tromp and gym sessions that keep old Donkey Body ([personal profile] smokingboot™) strong.

###

Anyway, I used the rain as an excuse not to exercise!

I wasn't sorry.

But I did feel guilty.

###

Back at the casa, I started futzing with an AI video generator.

I had an idea! Enchanted castle, magical cats, mouse l'orange served on golden plate. Warrior princess about seven years old comes to visit.

It was around 7 pm when I started futzing.

And then the AI video generator shot me a message: You are running out of computing seconds! Would you like to invest [$ize of $um goes here. Not huge by the way! But probably more than I should be frittering away regularly] in more computing seconds?

I glanced at the clock.

It was 11 pm. I had spent four hours blissfully in The Zone!!!!

###

Now, I'm not claiming to be particularly talented at generating AI videos.

Nor am I claiming that anything I produce has the slightest artistic merit.

But I must say, The Zone's a wonderful place! Playing with this technology completely absorbs me & is lots of fun! Yes, it is a lot like playing the funnest video game you can possibly imagine.

And the apres-glow carries over.

I'm in fine spirits this morning.

Despite the (soon-to-be oppressive) heat.
oursin: Photograph of small impressionistic metal figurine seated reading a book (Reader)
[personal profile] oursin

What I read

Finished Wide is the Gate, and while things are getting grimmer and grimmer as regards The World Situation, I am still very much there for Our Protag Lanny being a mild-mannered art dealer with a secret identity as anti-fascist activist, who gets on with everybody and is quite the antithesis of the Two-Fisted Hollywood Hero. (I was thinking who would I cast in the role and while there's a touch of the Jimmy Stewarts, the social aplomb and little moustache - William Powell?)

Lates Literary Review.

Mary Gordon, The Chase of the Wild Goose: The Story of Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby, Known as the Ladies of Llangollen (1936), which is sort-of a classic version of their story recently republished. But o dear, it does one of my pet hates, which is blurring 'imaginative recreation' with 'biographical research' and skipping between the two modes, and then in the final chapter she encounters the ghosts of of the Ladies, I can't even, really. Plus, Gordon, who was b. 1861, obtained medical education, fought for suffrage, etc, nevertheless disses on Victorian women as 'various kinds of imbecile', unlike those robust and politically-engaged ladies of the Georgian era. WOT. TUT. Also honking class issues about how the Ladies were Ladies and always behaved accordingly.

Began Robert Rodi, What They Did to Princess Paragon (1994), which was just not doing it for me, I can be doing with viewpoint characters being Not Nice, but I was beginning to find both of them (the comic-book writer and the fanboy) tedious.

Also not doing it for me, Barbara Vine, The Child's Child (2012): sorry, the inset novel did not read to me like a real novel of the period at which it was supposed to have been writ as opposed to A Historical Novel of Those Oppressive Times of the early C20th. Also, in frame narrative, I know PhD student who is writing thesis on unwed mothers in literature is doing EngLit but I do think someone might have mentioned (given period at which she is supposed to be doing this) the historiography on The Foundling Hospital.

I then turned to Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962), which it is a very long time since I read.

Then I was reduced to Agatha Christie, By the Pricking of My Thumbs (1968), and Murder in the Mews (1937).

On the go

I happened to spot my copy of Margery Sharp, Cluny Brown (1944), which I know I was looking for a while ago, and am reading that though it looks as though I re-read it more recently than I thought.

Have also begun on Books For Review.

Up Next

Really dunno.

Jun. 18th, 2025 06:51 am

When the World Is Running Down

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[personal profile] mallorys_camera
I was actually really proud of how corny my promo AI video for the upcoming pet parade event I'm producing came out!!!



So, I texted a link to Ichabod.

He texted back: I like it! But I wouldn’t describe it as corny. It’s very creepy…the faces at the beginning, the disembodied dragon head floating next to the body…. And maybe most of all the juxtaposition of the weirdness with the wholesomeness

Uh oh, I asked. Is it TOO creepy to use as a promo?

It might be, he said. I appreciate the video as experimental art though 😀

Sigh. Back to the drawing board.

###

In other news, I installed the airconditioner in the Patrizia-torium window.

Yes, I do disapprove of the environmental impact of AC.

But this coming weekend, it's supposed to hit 95° F here in the quaint & scenic Hudson Valley. And a fan ain't gonna cut it for comfort in 95° heat.

As my favorite '80s band The Police reminds us:

When the world is running down
You make the best of what's still around
Jun. 17th, 2025 08:58 pm

(no subject)

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[personal profile] flemmings
One should note when the weather is decent because it's about to become the reverse. Muggy and wet tomorrow, probably same for the rest of the week, then heat dome arrives. But today, when I finally made it out, was pleasant and breezy and the sky was blue, which it hasn't been lately, what with fires and pollution.

In winter I sit on the couch because there's nowhere to go and I tell myself I'll be more active in summer. Well, it's summer now and I sit on the couch because my back hurts, and I do nothing because my elbows hurt, and my nose is stuffed up from pollen. Thus there is no health within us.
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oursin: Photograph of James Miranda Barry, c. 1850 (James Miranda Barry)
[personal profile] oursin

Honestly, people. How is this even A Thing?

NHS staff unsettled by patients filming care and posting videos on social media.

When partner first mentioned this to me I was 'Do they even let them into operating theatre and what about scrubbing up etc?', because I assumed it wasn't actually the patient doing this, and in fact reading further it does seem to be accompanying persons.

Radiographers, who take X-rays and scans, fear the trend could compromise the privacy of other patients being treated nearby and lead to staff having their work discussed online.
The Society of Radiographers (SoR) has gone public with its unease after a spate of incidents in which patients, or someone with them in the hospital, began filming their care.
On one occasion a radiology department assistant from the south coast was inserting a cannula into a patient who had cancer when their 19-year-old daughter began filming.
“She wanted to record the cannulation because she thought it would be entertaining on social media.* But she didn’t ask permission,” the staff member said.
“I spent the weekend afterwards worrying: did I do my job properly? I know I did, but no one’s perfect all the time and this was recorded. I don’t think I slept for the whole weekend.”
They were also concerned that a patient in the next bay was giving consent for a colonoscopy – an invasive diagnostic test – at the same time as the daughter was filming her mother close by. “That could all have been recorded on the film, including names and dates of birth,” they said.
Ashley d’Aquino, a therapeutic radiographer in London, said a colleague had agreed to take photographs for a patient, “but when the patient handed over her phone the member of staff saw that the patient had also been covertly recording her, to publish on her cancer blog.

*Emphasis mine.

First we go back to miasmatic theory, then we go back to operations as spectator sport?

How very different, I would argue, are Barbara Hepworth's 'Hospital Drawings':

Capener began purchasing some of Hepworth’s art, which in turn helped with the costs of her daughter’s surgery. He later asked the artist if she might be interested in observing some of the procedures taking place in the operating theatre. Hepworth, initially horrified by this thought, decided to go. The materials that she needed to make her sculptures were scarce during postwar Britain, meaning she also had more time on her hands to explore other projects.
Hepworth soon became fascinated with the surgical process. She was particularly moved by the methodical rhythm of the surgeon’s hands and the concentration in their eyes. The eyes and hands are rendered with a delicacy and softness, with attentively modulated grey-white tones. They emerge from the cruder, more abstract marks in blue, green and other similar hues. Her drawing techniques somehow brings the scene to life; the many flowing lines are suggestive of the creases forming in the doctors’ blue gowns, created by their constant movement around the horizontal, inert patient. After many visits, Hepworth had created a body of work which revealed her wonderful abilities as a draughtsperson, as well as a sculptor.

Jun. 17th, 2025 08:11 am

The Talented Mr. Ripley

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[personal profile] mallorys_camera
Dreamed I had been drafted and was about to be flown off to a war in a foreign land, only I couldn't find my purse & was panicking because how could I fly if I didn't have any ID?

Somehow I knew, though, that this was only a dream and kept telling myself, Don't worry, your purse is where you always stash it—near your desk!

(Editorial note: I have a tendency to misplace things and waste hours looking for them, so over the years have trained myself to put logistical stuff—keys, bills, purse—in specific spots to track them. It's what passes for organization in my world.)

But knowing where my purse was in the woke world did not solve my quandary in the dream world. Where was my purse? And if I could not find it, what would they do to me?

Frantically, I began calling people I'd seen the night before to see if they knew.

Then, as the first soldiers in my squadron were lining up to board the plane, Mrs. Neighbor Ed showed up with my purse!

She put it down.

I tried to pick it up—but a filigree gold chain spilling out of the purse had somehow gotten caught in whatever she'd put the purse down on, so I couldn't move it. And I was getting frantic—Should I break the gold chain? But the gold chain is so beautiful!—when I woke up.

###

Decided yesterday to pretend that exercise is really, really baaaaad for you and that lolling around on the lounging couch watching every Ripley movie ever made & eating cookies is what scientists recommend for disease prevention and wellness promotion.

The Criterion Channel—Ichabod kindly gifted me a subscription—is doing a marathon.

My favorite Ripley is actually the recent Netflix The Talented Mr. Ripley. It's the truest to the novel. Most viewers hated it because it was shot in black and white—lush, colorful Italy? In black and white?—but I actually thought that was a brilliant choice in a film about deception because it emphasized the shots' composition, allowing you to see the bones of the piece. And Andrew Scott is very, very good in it, although the rest of the cast is uniformly awful.

The popular favorite is Anthony Minghella's The Talented Mr. Ripley with Matt Damon—fresh from Good Will Hunting!—in the title role. The gay undercurrents in this one are pushed from subtext to declamative, but I personally think that's too easy an out: Ripley does what he does and is who he is not because he is tortured by his own sexuality but because he's a complete sociopath.

And then, of course, there's Plein soleil whose Ripley is Alain Delon, the most beautiful human male ever born. Adonis only wishes he looked like Alain Delon in his youth! This one holds a special place in my heart because I first saw it when I was eight years old—my mother was too poor to be able to afford babysitters, so she always brought me with her when she went to see the foreign movies she so loved. This is the only Ripley in which Ripley is brought to justice—I suppose because it was made in 1960 and back in 1960, people hadn't yet started rooting for the sociopaths.

###

This YouTube video provides an excellent compare-and-contrast of Minghella's Ripley and Plein soleil:

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conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
I honestly should stop by the ETG thrift store and see if I can get a different dress, though - my options are long pants and sleeves, or a bright red dress, which seems... well, anyway. It's a great dress in most other contexts, though. (Maybe a skirt? I could find a skirt and a nice short-sleeved top? Then again, if this weather continues the way it has been I might be better off bundled up! It's mid-June and my heater is on.)

*************


Read more... )
Jun. 16th, 2025 07:55 pm

A certain chuffedness

oursin: hedgehog wearing a yellow flower (Hedgehog with flower)
[personal profile] oursin

I cannot help myself feeling a certain gratification when a reviews editor calls the reviews I have just submitted 'beautifully written' and is eager to solicit further (though as I have several others in hand, may not take this up very urgently....) (Preen, preen.)

Have also been solicited quite out of the blue to take part in a podcast. WOT.

It is also very pleasing that the return of Lady Bexbury and her extensive circle is appreciated.

***

Not so very long ago I posted about this lady who worked for SOE way back when: and now Blaise Metreweli named as first woman to lead UK intelligence service MI6.

I thought The secret lives of MI6’s top female spies this was connected - it's actually 2022 but maybe being reposted for the new association. There are several paragraphs of aged former secret agent lady waxing snarky about the sexism aforetimes that precluded advancement up the ranks.

Beneath her tales of life in the service there is real anger about the way women were treated. Both she and her great friend, Daphne Park — a fellow senior SIS officer who died in 2010 at the age of 88 — led distinguished careers but failed to reach the highest ranks. This, they suspected, was due to their gender.
Ramsay speaks in a soft Scots burr which rises audibly when I ask about SIS’s record on female officers. She feels particularly aggrieved that Park, a life-long intelligence officer who held SIS postings in Moscow, Lusaka, Hanoi and Ulan Bator, did not progress to the most senior levels. (MI6 would neither confirm nor deny it had employed Park.) “There’s no doubt in my mind that Daphne should have been at least one rung up as the deputy chief position. I can say that without any equivocation,” Ramsay says, tapping a lacquered pink fingernail on the table. Park, described unkindly in one obituary as looking “more like Miss Marple than Mata Hari”, resigned early from the service in 1979, having told a friend that she would never be promoted to SIS chief because of her gender.
By the early 1990s, Ramsay was rumoured to be in the running for the post of C, although shortlists are never publicly acknowledged. Privately, she thought the promotion of a woman to that role would still be “quite impossible”.... She observes that while many talented women such as Noor Inayat Khan excelled in the Special Operations Executive, a wartime secret service and sabotage unit set up in 1940, there was a long period afterwards when women ceased to be employed as intelligence officers at all. Ramsay recounts an episode in the 1970s when she came across a woman she thought would make a “perfect” agent-runner. She telephoned the head of recruitment to discuss the prospect, who told her they weren’t looking for women. “He said, ‘It would take an extraordinary gel’ — and it was the ‘gel’ that got to me — ‘to be an intelligence officer’. And I said, ‘Well, it would take an extraordinary boy too, but it hasn’t stopped you recruiting males!’”

Jun. 16th, 2025 09:22 am

Heavy Mental Lifting

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Went over the bridge to poke around in the Hyde Park garden yesterday.

Grass clippings seem to be doing their job of keeping the weeds down, plus my lettuce is harvestable. I took home enough of it to keep me in salads for the rest of the week:





Also, most mysteriously, a California Golden Poppy had popped up out of nowhere, and this made me very happy because it made me think I might figure out a way to get back to California one of these days. The augers just keep coming!



Afterwards, I toddled off to visit with Belinda.

We talked about the Israel/Iran situation.

"But Hamas!" she said. "It's a terrorist organization!"

I shrugged. "How do you define 'terrorist'? A political organization that uses violence & fear to achieve political ends?"

She nodded vigerously. "Yeah! That!"

"Well, by that definition, Israel is a terrorist organization."

She stared at me, shocked.

"Here's the thing. For hundreds of years, the people who eventually coalesced to form the nation state of Israel were under Ottoman Turk rule. And then for 30 years, it was a British protectorate. And during that entire time, any organization that lobbied for sovereignty or self-rule for the area was outlawed and so naturally turned to violence to achieve its ends.

"It gets complicated, of course, because the majority of Israelis today are descendants of Ashkenazis who migrated after World War II.

"Still. If you look at the history of the area—the future Israelis were once in exactly the same position as the people of Gaza. That should give them—well. Not sympathy for Hamas. But at least an understanding of why Hamas might seem attractive. And that understanding is key to defusing Hamas's attractiveness.

"Instead, they are acting exactly like the Ottomans & the Brits who opppressed them—"

I could see the rusty wheels start turning in Belinda's head.

Whether or not she ends up agreeing with me is irrelevant.

But I think people need to get into the habit of doing heavy mental lifting on their own.

###

Then we toddled off to the movies!

We saw Materialists. I was curious about Celine Song's follow-up to Past Lives.

Materialists is pretty awful.

But you know, the Hyde Park Roosevelt Theater has stale Raisinettes! And heated recliners. So, I had a good time.

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