On the whole, yay
Dec. 8th, 2004 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radfrac_archive_fullWell, I have the day job. Now I all I need is the body of saleable work.
I think a small but rousing cheer is in order.
Hurrah!
I've been worrying that I'll be no good at the job, or that it'll be no good at me, but I realized last night that this is exactly what I wanted, structurally speaking -- a part-time day job that pays the rent. Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah. That's worth a lot of something or other, he said not very cogently.
The job is strange, and I have no idea if I'll be good at it, so two months from now I may be whinging again about my financial despair. But they're willing to hire me, and specifically they're willing to hire me for a four-day week, which is perfect. Four days of Day Job, one day of Writing, two days of Fun.
I am also having possibly the best breakfast ever, if that be lakes of coffee in a very tall very narrow very Danish Modern white mug, with milk from the can of evaporated milk Grumpy Bastard left here (of which More in a Mo) and a big icy smoothie in on of my faerie cups (frosted glass, vast cranberry bowl, ice-green stem). (As I pointed out to Bee, I have everything necessary for a really brilliant dinner party except the dinner.) Because, you see, I can go hot, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold, and while this may be bad for my digestion, it feels Neat.
Presently and for some time thereafter I will be eating a mountain of lasagne with spinach and bechamel (bechamel!), which Grumpy Bastard made for me last night in celebration of Day Job Acquisition, er, Day. Which is the more I spoke of, and very much more it was; a whole springform cake pan full, in fact, since the large baking dish chose to live with its original parent.
We ate of this marvel and watched Deep Inside Clint Star last night. This is not, as you might be expecting, a pornographic movie.
...although that's where the title comes from. It's a documentary by said Clint revolving around a group of his friends, acquaintances, and family members. He does use sex as a focus or stimulus for the discussions; it ends up playing a subtle and interesting role. It's a meter of self-acceptance; it's also, in itself, the site of intense suffering for many of the interviewees, in terms of sexual identity, of violence, or of feeling desirable/attractive as a First Nations person in a racist culture.
It's an accomplishment that the movie didn't on the whole feel voyeuristic (though some of it was clearly carefully visually and narratively constructed) -- the director plays with the idea of voyeurism, but repeatedly moves away from intruding farther into his participants' pain (or happiness, or mixed emotions) than they themselves go. As interviewer, he prompts with 'outrageous' questions about sex, but what he evokes is different -- a combination of guardedness and revelation that feels very personal, as much when the interviewee is refusing to tell the camera something as when they're speaking.
Here endeth the sound-bitey LJ summary. I wonder if I could get a job writing the back covers of movie packaging. Anyway, recommended, and available at your local library. Or mine, anyway.
{rf}
I think a small but rousing cheer is in order.
Hurrah!
I've been worrying that I'll be no good at the job, or that it'll be no good at me, but I realized last night that this is exactly what I wanted, structurally speaking -- a part-time day job that pays the rent. Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah. That's worth a lot of something or other, he said not very cogently.
The job is strange, and I have no idea if I'll be good at it, so two months from now I may be whinging again about my financial despair. But they're willing to hire me, and specifically they're willing to hire me for a four-day week, which is perfect. Four days of Day Job, one day of Writing, two days of Fun.
I am also having possibly the best breakfast ever, if that be lakes of coffee in a very tall very narrow very Danish Modern white mug, with milk from the can of evaporated milk Grumpy Bastard left here (of which More in a Mo) and a big icy smoothie in on of my faerie cups (frosted glass, vast cranberry bowl, ice-green stem). (As I pointed out to Bee, I have everything necessary for a really brilliant dinner party except the dinner.) Because, you see, I can go hot, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold, and while this may be bad for my digestion, it feels Neat.
Presently and for some time thereafter I will be eating a mountain of lasagne with spinach and bechamel (bechamel!), which Grumpy Bastard made for me last night in celebration of Day Job Acquisition, er, Day. Which is the more I spoke of, and very much more it was; a whole springform cake pan full, in fact, since the large baking dish chose to live with its original parent.
We ate of this marvel and watched Deep Inside Clint Star last night. This is not, as you might be expecting, a pornographic movie.
...although that's where the title comes from. It's a documentary by said Clint revolving around a group of his friends, acquaintances, and family members. He does use sex as a focus or stimulus for the discussions; it ends up playing a subtle and interesting role. It's a meter of self-acceptance; it's also, in itself, the site of intense suffering for many of the interviewees, in terms of sexual identity, of violence, or of feeling desirable/attractive as a First Nations person in a racist culture.
It's an accomplishment that the movie didn't on the whole feel voyeuristic (though some of it was clearly carefully visually and narratively constructed) -- the director plays with the idea of voyeurism, but repeatedly moves away from intruding farther into his participants' pain (or happiness, or mixed emotions) than they themselves go. As interviewer, he prompts with 'outrageous' questions about sex, but what he evokes is different -- a combination of guardedness and revelation that feels very personal, as much when the interviewee is refusing to tell the camera something as when they're speaking.
Here endeth the sound-bitey LJ summary. I wonder if I could get a job writing the back covers of movie packaging. Anyway, recommended, and available at your local library. Or mine, anyway.
{rf}
