For awhile there, I was too busy being really sad that my monkey has gone back to the US, and saying good-bye to loads of friends who left Prague at the end of the school year, to write any winning little dispatches for my blog. I don't like to post shit at times like that, because I really don't think you all need to savor my pathos, and also because I've got nothing good to say.
Last week, while having a little internet chat with my dear and esteemed friend Mr. RCJohnso, I noted that some keys were wearing off on my ibook keyboard -- the letters "a", "s", and "d", along with letters "e", "c" and "n" are totally worn off. He suggested that I needed to stop typing the word "sad." Probably a good idea. Either that or "seance". God knows I'm always typing that.
Anyway, I'm not sad. I really miss my monkey, and if I think about it too much I'll totally cry, because nothing, no matter how good it is, can ever replace his hugs and kisses, the sweet sound of his voice, and just knowing that my little man is near. I love him so much, and it's hard not to be with him. However, from what I hear, he's having all kinds of fun traveling all around, currently in Seattle with his Grandfather, Great Uncle, and Great-Grandfather. Meanwhile, things are going pretty well here in Prague.
Here's the general update:
My contract with the school I'd been teaching for ended in June, so I found another job for July and August, until it begins again in September. It's been really nice to have a change, and this new job is good -- the students are all really lovely, all the teaching is really near my flat, and I'm finished working around 1:30 or 2:00 everyday. Can't really complain.
"Tideland" was beautiful and terrifying. Before the film, Terry Gilliam told us that his wife has told him that the film was frightening because of it's absolute innocence, and I think that's a really good comment. In it, a 9-year-old girl in a really awful situation escapes into a world of imagination that blends in with her strange reality. It's really so good, and everyone should go see it as soon as they can, because it's packed with poetry.
What I really can't wait to tell you about, though, is "Cremaster". The cremaster muscle, in case you aren't up on this kind of thing, is the muscle that moves the testicles up and down in response to changes in temperature, allowing them to maintain optimal conditions for sperm production.
I'm not going to try to tell you what these films were about, but here's an absolutely straight-up synopsis of "Cremaster 4": Matthew Barney (click that link!) plays a tap-dancing, non-gender-specific saytr in a building at the end of a pier on the Isle of Wight. He is assisted by three fairies, whose gender is likewise, indeterminate. As Barney tap-dances, a motorcycle race commences around the Isle of Wight, and "gelatinous gonadal forms" emerge from the pockets of the racers' leather suits. The race is eventually interrupted, and Barney, who tap-dances a hole in the pier, and falls into the ocean, climbs up, up, up through a curving tube, swiming in viscous, white slime, and is transformed into a ceremonial ram. In the end, there is, as the film's program indicated, "a revelation of scrotum."
I can attest to you that the revelation did, indeed, occur. This film is SHEER GENIUS. Please see it if at all possible. You will not be sorry.
Finally, in AWESOME NEWS, I am going to Paris on Friday to see the last two stages of the Tour de France. Oh, how I love the Tour de France! I can't wait. I've booked a lovely little hotel in Paris, and I'll be there early Friday morning. On Saturday, I head down to Le Creusot in the Loire Valley via TGV to see the final time trial, which could be decisive, and then it's back to Paris for the finish in the Champs Elysees on Sunday. I'll be there very early on Friday, and will stay until late on Monday, so I'll have two days with Le Tour, two days with Paris.
Oh, also, I've been writing my very silly cycling column, which is over at The Daily Peloton anywhere where it says "Updated & Delicieux".