"No, I'm not gonna be your monkey."

I remember watching this four years ago, and it's still awesome.

I'm glad that emotional residue dissipated.

I watched Ronin for the first time in several years tonight. I started at 11:30, and now it's almost 2am and I have to get up in six hours to go to work. I took a three-hour nap this evening, catching up from staying up 'til 5am on Friday night talking to Laura's friend Angela. For some reason, I couldn't nap yesterday despite my exhaustion.

So I had some time to kill before sleeping tonight. I remembered Ronin being a good film, but the last time I watched even part of it was with Marta, before we'd even started dating. I think she fell asleep in the middle, and I hadn't watched it since, mostly because it still had this emotional residue for me.

I watched it again. It's better than I remembered. I picked up things I'd missed, or subtleties that hadn't seemed important to me before. Maybe it's because I don't watch many movies or TV shows anymore, and tend to view films not just as stories, but as art with carefully crafted components, each with their own importance. Regardless, I was struck by everything from the clothes, to the cinematography, to the story arc being rather well-done and unique these days.

I'm glad that emotional residue dissipated.

When life hands you lemons, make cantaloupe juice.

Two years ago this month, my cousin John died. I don't think about it much anymore, though at the time I pretty much escaped into the make-believe world of the Honor Harrington series of books. (You can download all 17 books in the series - I recommend them if you need to kill a couple months.)

The day after the funeral I was at my aunt Susan's house before heading to the airport, and she'd taken all the leftover cantaloupe from the reception and blended it, making a rather thick juice. I don't normally enjoy cantaloupe at all, but for some reason I think it tastes excellent in liquid form, and I drank about a quart of it (approximately eating one melon whole).

That's the one positive thing I took from that trip. Mostly I just remember the heartbreak on my aunt and uncle's faces, particularly when Susan was describing being at his bedside as he died. Tonight I made juice from two cantaloupes, and it brought the memories back.

Para bailar la shut the fuck up!

There's a techno version of "La Bamba" on at work. Again, here's to my own office where I can play the Richie Valens version instead.

Dreaming is Free...

Yesterday I dreamt of a first kiss. It was so realistic that I spent 40 minutes trying to relive it as I was falling asleep last night.

In the dream, I made a move not intended to initiate any kiss, then she made as if to kiss me and I turned back and, well, reciprocated. And like any good first kiss, it started with soft lip contact before progressing.

But the best part was the emotional context. The dream delivered all the disbelief and wonder packed into any good first kiss. It's been a long time since I've experienced any of it. No wonder I tried to relive it.

Dreaming is free...