I was an island

Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are. I'm back after only a week of silence. I thought I should take advantage of this random bout of diligence.

This is what the world looks like now: A theater teacher shrewdly uses Joss Whedon's Firefly to demonstrate honor and principle, and is threatened with criminal charges. In the Philippines, government officials are so obtuse and out of touch, they think it's okay to Photoshop themselves into disaster photos. Yes, the world is one big facepalm.

Space Ghost is not amused. [Image source]

There was another typhoon today. I hear Baguio has been having a hard time of it. My family and many of my friends live there, and I am thinking of them. The Philippine name for Typhoon Nalgae is Quiel. It is a strange name. It's the sort of thing fantasy anime fans might name their first born.

It is quiet in the house tonight and I am looking for something to watch to ward off the blues. Earlier today, I found out that Edgar Wright has included Rushmore in his Criterion Top 10. Coolio. I have been itching to watch it since. Acquiring it now because, apparently, I do not have Rushmore among my files. I am not sure how this could have happened, and now I am worried about the state of my Bill Murray collection.

Kelly Link has been an excellent companion during these stormy days. Her stories are smart and spine-tingling, and her writing is just delicious. Really, I can't get enough of it. I am putty in her hands, dazed by her literary swag. First, she makes me laugh. Then, she makes my skin crawl so I am forced to look behind me. Then suddenly, she comes up with a paragraph that is absolutely heart-breaking, like:

Jeremy's father's office is above the garage. In theory, no one is meant to interrupt him while he's working, but in practice, Jeremy's father loves nothing better than to be interrupted, as long as the person who interrupts brings him something to eat. When Jeremy and his mother are gone, who will bring Jeremy's father food? Jeremy hardens his heart.

Kelly Link, I can't even.

In music, I have been listening to more or less the same stuff. Except I've been enjoying a lot more of Allison Weiss. I like her poetry: "I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pack/ But you answered my cries in the dead of the night/ And told me that you had my back."

My Supernatural download has finished, care bears. I'm off to commune with the boys. I'm like a Twi-hard, but for these guys. Later.