oscar night!

Last night, I mixed and mingled on the red carpet with Hollywood's magic makers. I chided Shaft for taking my seat while I was replenishing my plate with sumptuous goodies. I argued with Harry Potter about his identity - I mistook him for Snake - and lost the debate. (For future reference, besides age, the primary difference is Potter wears glasses.) I snapped quick pics of The Help and The Artist (as well as his Muse), but somehow missed a close-up with the Bridesmaid. And we all drank a champagne toast for the host and hostess with the mostest at this Fourth Annual Oscar Party, right here on the RIGHT coast.
I certainly enjoyed myself in Georgetown last night! I had been invited by my outlaw Bunny to, once again, be treated to a fine extravaganza with her coworkers and friends, and I had jumped at the opportunity. Then, yesterday morning, her back went out and she had to abstain, but she encouraged me to go - so I did. I am so glad I did, too!
I wore a sparkly sequined overlay on my purple velvet dress, finishing the ensemble with slippers of silver. Just right for mixing with Hollywood's elite! I even wore my glasses this time, prepared for the evening's activities. Trivia of Oscar, selecting the Oscar winners, find-an-Oscar-word puzzles - all with prizes for those with the most correct! I completed the puzzle, but I'm not sure how many Oscars I correctly "awarded". Still, I didn't walk away empty-handed, receiving a swag bag as I departed, as well as one for my outlaw. Woohoo!

GGBD 2012

Bien, aujourd'hui était Jour de Blog de Fille de Goth encore et j'ai été pris au piège à la Géorgie Bol de Science Régional pour presque tout. Ai-je dit que vous LE bff de ma mere est un taré de science total ? Comme, le total.
Elle était dans le ciel, obtenant pour lire des questions de la chimie, les maths, la biologie, la physique, et l'énergie pour les heures interminables aux adolescents comme moi. Bien, quand je dis « comme moi », je signifie, vous savez, les jeunes. Les questions de maths s'intéressaient presque, toute l'obscurité et tordu et plein de carré et cubé et racines. Que je ne serais pas débile et sur une équipe de connaissance de science - seulement si je pourrais être tout l'écureuil secret de lui. J'ai entendu quelqu'un dit qu'et il a semblé si mystérieux et changé.
ourquoi j'écris blog en français ? Bien, vous me permettre de dire le reste de l'enfer que j'ai été en. Elle a tenu à traîner m'à chaque un des films pour le Festival du film Francophone. Chaque seul l'un. Il y avait cinq d'eux. Cinq. Pas tout l'aujourd'hui, mon un jour spécial, quand je suis encouragé à m'exprimer dans mes propres termes.
Jamais depuis jeudi elle m'a traîné à ces films. « Élargir les secteurs de ma vie qui est étroite ». Si je veux que n'importe quoi a élargi ou pas. J'aime que ma vie réduit. Je sais quoi prévoir à tout moment parce que je ne permets pas le changement.
ELLE agit du changement. Vous penseriez que le temps une personne a obtenu pour être aussi vieille qu'elle qu'ils auraient décidé qu'ils ont aimé et seraient résistant pour changer. Vous penseriez que le temps une personne a obtenu pour être plus qu'à moitié un séculaire qu'ils sauraient pour garder leur singularité à themself et ne l'infligent pas sur d'autres. Je penserais cela.
Toujours, le temps n'était pas une perte complète. Les films tous ont eu une obscurité à eux qui m'ont dessiné en, que je ne la dirais jamais. "L'affaire Farewell" a été réglé en Russie, avec une bonne partie de que tout à fait réglant si que j'ai défailli presque. Presque. Les blancs et les noirs croustillants partout dans l'écran, et le caractère principal meurt. Bien tragique. Cela était jeudi. Vendredi a été défendu coupler, surtout entre les hommes. "Le Refuge" a ouvert avec un gars qui meurt d'une overdose d'héroïne et son amie qui sortent d'un coma le trouver mort et son enceinte avec un foetus drogue-dépendant - si elle doit rester sur les drogues jusqu'à ce que le bébé est né. Le frère mort du gars était gai et j'ai dû regarder le faisant hors avec un autre gars. Mais le highpoint pour moi était la chanson de mélancolie il a chanté. En général, totalement étrange et très profondément noir, qui est pourquoi il m'a fait appel.
La seconde l'un que la nuit était "La Belle Personne". La mère principale du caractère était morte, donc la fille avait transféré à une autre école où son cousin est allé. Elle a trouvé tous les garçons là après son corps, mais elle était totalement pas prête pour cela. Je peux relater si. Alors elle trouve son cousin est gai et qu'elle est dans l'amour avec son professeur italien et le garçon dans l'amour avec elle se tue. Tous je peux dire suis l'histoire de Roméo et Juliet maudit pâlit par la comparaison.
Après l'être dans l'entreprise de gens scientifiques toute la journée - de 8:30 ce matin jusqu' à 3:30 cet après-midi - j'ai eu beaucoup d'agitation de ce soir. Le Festival du film pourrait-il soutenir son ton noir ? Surtout comme j'ai su le premier film, "L'illusionniste" était un conte animé d'un magicien. Comment le juvénile, n'est-ce pas ?
J'étais inexact. (Ceci était un terme que j'ai entendu maintes et maintes fois au Bol de Science et maintenant c'est fermement dans ma tête. Hélas). Le magicien était un homme vieillissant qui dépense son argent sur quelque fille qui n'est pas son amie et passe son temps avec l'autres mourir de faim artistes. L'obscurité, terrible, épouvantable - perfectionner pour mon jour spécial, après que tous.
La nuit a terminé avec "Un Prophete". Beaucoup de gens qui meurent dans ce film de prison et même un fantôme macabre qui hante son meurtrier. Le fantôme a fumé même des cigarettes et la fumée fait le brin des trous dans son cou où il avait saigné à la mort. Impressionnant, bien que j'ai géré pour dissimuler mon intérêt, je pense.
Maintenant j'ai écrit mon blog en français si mon persécuteur ne peut pas le lire. Si elle veut savoir qu'il dit, elle aura besoin d'obtenir l'a traduit. Ah, doux est ma vengeance et une façon adéquate pour fermer mon jour.

Goth Girl Blog Day, english version

For those who do not speak French, here is the translation:

Well, today was Goth Girl Blog Day again and I was trapped at the Georgia Science Bowl for almost all of it. Did I tell you the bff of my mother is a total science nerd? Like, total. She was overjoyed, getting to read questions of chemistry, math, biology, physics, and energy for unending hours to the teenagers like me. Well, when I say "like me", I mean, you know, the young ones. The questions of math were almost interesting, very dark and twisted and a lot of squares and cubes and roots. What I would not be is feeble and on a team of science knowledge - only if I could be the secret squirrel. I heard someone say that and it seemed so mysterious and alter-state.
Why do I write this blog in French? Well, allow me to tell you the remainder of the hell that I was in. She was anxious to lead me to every one of the films for the Francophone Film Festival. Every single one. There were five of them. Five. Not all today, my special day, when I am encouraged to express myself in my own terms. Ever since Thursday she has taken me to these films. "To widen the areas of my life that are narrow". Whether or not I want anything widened. I like my narrow life. I know what to foresee at any moment because I do not allow change.
SHE is all about change. You would think that by the time a person got to be as old as she is they would have decided what they liked and would be resistant to change. You would think that by the time a person got to be more than half a century that they would know to keep their oddity to themselves and to not inflict it on others. I would think that.
Still, the time wasn't a complete loss. The films all had a darkness to them that drew me in, not that I would ever tell her. "L'affaire Farewell" was set in Russia, with so much of that stark setting that I almost swooned. Almost. Crisp whites and blacks all over the screen, and the main character dies. Nicely tragic. That was on Thursday.
Friday was forbidden coupling, mostly between men. "Le Refuge" opened with a guy dying of a heroin overdose and his girlfriend coming out of a coma to find him dead and her pregnant with a drug-addicted fetus - so she has to stay on drugs until the baby is born. The dead guy's brother was gay and I had to watch him making out with another guy. But the highpoint for me was the melancholy song he sang. Overall, totally strange and very deeply black, which is why it appealed to me.
The second one that night was "La Belle Personne". The main character's mother had died, so the girl had transferred to another school where her cousin went. She found all the boys there after her body, but she was totally not ready for that. I can so relate. Then she finds her cousin is gay and that she is in love with her Italian teacher and the boy in love with her kills himself. All I can say is the story of star-crossed Romeo and Juliet pales by comparison.
After being in the company of scientific people all day - from 8:30 this morning until 3:30 this afternoon - I had much trepidation about tonight. Would the Film Festival be able to sustain its black tone? Especially as I knew the first film, "L'illusionniste" was an animated tale of a magician. How juvenile, n'est-ce pas?
I was incorrect. (This was a term I heard over and over at the Science Bowl and now it is firmly in my head. Alas.) The magician was an aging man who spends his money on some girl who isn't his girlfriend and spends his time with other starving artists. Dark, dire, dreadful - perfect for my special day, after all.
The night has ended with "Un Prophete". Lots of people dying in this prison film and even a gruesome ghost that haunts its murderer. The ghost even smoked cigarettes and the smoke would wisp out of the holes in his neck where he had bled to death. Awesome, though I did manage to conceal my interest, I think.
Now I've written my blog in French so my tormentor cannot read it. If she wants to know what it says, she will need to get it translated. Ah, sweet is my revenge and a fitting way to close my day.

bunny bunny and more

Sunday evening, I went to Jenkins Hall at 6 PM, intending to stand in line, if need be, to gain entrance to a sold-out show. The box office wasn't even officially open yet, but the young woman acknowledged that I would be the first, should a ticket become available. She remembered me from Friday morning, trying to get a ticket for any of the last three shows, all of which were sold-out. I was fortunate Sunday, as were nine others, treated to an intimate experience in the Black Box at Jenkins Hall.
The show isn't one you've likely heard of. "Bunny Bunny... Gilda Radner, A Sort-Of Romantic Comedy" is a tale of love and friendship, told through the eyes and ears and heart of the writer who lost her to cancer. Zweibel was befriended by the comedienne once upon a time in the north, when both were young and new to the late-night world of New York City.
I had been a big fan of Gilda Radner and her zany characters in the early days of Saturday Night Live. I had rejoiced with her when she wed Gene Wilder, who loved her madly, and I was shocked and saddened when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer just two years later. They were married for just under five years before her death in 1989. She was only 42. Gene built a monument to her, in the form of Gilda's Club, there in her beloved NYC.
Zweibel and "Gilbert" were best friends. This play was his attempt to capture that friendship as a series of shared moments in time on the set, in restaurants, at basketball games. All of the moments really good friends spend together, shared visions, shared recordings of events and people and food.
Zweibel succeeded. His recounting of the bond between he and she brought to mind the bond between me and Sam. His loss of that vibrant tone from the music of his life reminded me of chords I would not hear again.

bunny bunny

I miss you, Sam Johnson.
I miss our conversations. We didn't talk every day, but pretty often. Sometimes by phone, mostly in person. Yeah, I know you had LOTS of talks with LOTS of folks, but I don't. Long conversations with a phone in my ear just isn't my speed, but it was a natural for you.
I miss our dinners out, especially on Thursdays. I don't know how that came to be "our" day, but it did. Sometimes we just went to Cici's and stuffed ourselves stupid with pizza. Other times, we'd go a little upscale, noshing at Applebee's or Bennigan's or Sticky Fingers. Wherever we dined, we had our own time going on, ignoring the noise from the tv and the background tunes and the folks around us. I miss those times.
I miss you, Sam Johnson.
You helped me find those islands of normal when I was floundering in the depths of lost. You were there to throw the lifeline and haul me back to land's edge when I was teetering on never and no more. You kept building bridges like a madman as the ones I thought were for forever were burning all around me.
I do so miss you, Sam Johnson.
You always had an easy smile for me, a great big hug, and love overflowing your heart.
I do so miss you.