Not fine in the "good" or "OK" sense. Heavens no.
The other fine. Fine as in thin. Like a mist, like a toddler's hair, like vermicelli. A slight breeze would blow me over a neighbour's fence. A strong wind and I'd dissipate completely.
I had an exciting incident the other day. I was trying to buy a Werner Herzog Blu-ray box set online, and almost accidentally bought the DVD box set instead! I'd got as far as the checkout screen! Bullet: dodged.
Aren't I cultured? Even if my main exposure to Werner Herzog comes from this:
So, so cultured.
In fact, I'm so cultured that I watched that French film recently. You know the one. It came out last year and won lots of awards. It's a romance; something of a coming-of-age story. I wish I could be more specific. I could describe the precise nature of the romance, but it's not important. Anyone who would even mention the nature of the central relationship would be nothing but a narrow-minded bigot. I will not be so reductive. It features two young people - that's all I need to say.
And as for the content, let's just say that there are scenes where the characters interact in an assortment of ways. To outline the nature of these interactions would be prurient, and would only expose my own myopic proclivities.
I watched the film, but did not judge. That's all I can say.
Oh, I suppose I could say that it's called Blue is The Warmest Colour. There's nothing salacious about the title.
My main thought after watching 3 hours of life and love and art and philosophy and humanity was:
"Man, the French sure do wear a lot of scarves."
Pretty cultured, I am.
***
I wonder if there's a Tumblr blog devoted to things stuck to the inside of high school locker doors in American teen movies.
There should be.
I didn't have locker at school. They're not British.
Lockers are for the secretive Yank. A hidey-hole in which they secrete their guns and bibles.
We had pegs.
Good old British pegs, like the Queen would have.
You don't need to lock your possessions away. Hang your books and PE kit on a peg. Keep a stiff upper-lip and a stiff upper-peg. Need a place to put your cricket bat and your Latin homework? Hang it on a peg. Hang everything on a peg.
You can walk down an American school hallway and have no idea of the property - or the intentions - that may lurk behind those metal locker doors.
In Britain, it's all there for everyone to see: from blazers to protractors, from plimsolls to sanitary towels.
Our possessions are our flag. We salute them in public.
Stand to attention - back straight, chin up - and sing a tribute to Her Majesty, our sceptred isle, and the sweet metallic kiss of mother peg.
...
Or maybe we did have lockers...
Actually, I think we did.
Never mind what I said before.
***
I feel like I might have written something like that before. I searched my previous entry for "pegs", but no dice.
Here's a tweet I keep coming back to:
2014 is the Chinese Year of the Month
I like it. It's ambiguous.
It's best to do it around Chinese New Year - that's when the impact is at its greatest.
It could mean (at least) two things:
1) That the 'month' is like an animal (like the 'rat' or the 'dragon'), and that it is the symbol for the whole year.
2) Each month, there's a competition for the best Chinese Year. And this month, the award went to 2014. It isn't always necessarily the current year. In fact, that's pretty rare. August's Chinese Year of the Month was 422 B.C.
It could be either. But not both.
It's like verbal equivalent of the rabbit-duck:
It depends on your point of view.
Right I'd better get an early night. Some may say that 4pm is too early.
To them, I say: look at my nightgown.
Then they look at my nightgown.
Then they look at my face.
Then I nod.
Then they nod.
By the time they've worked out their apology, I'm already asleep.
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