I have the strongest urge to write a story today, but a weblog entry will have to suffice as I'm currently at work. I do want to write something fictional... or draw. I got this pretty keen inspiration for a picture based on the lyrics of a song that I was listening to last night while organising my room. Neil Diamond, of all things; just have this great image of Brother Love preaching at his Traveling Salvation Show.

Stew has moved in now, cat and all. The couch couldn't fit up the stairs, so my room won't be its repository after all. Goodwill lucked out, instead. I've got two bookcases completely loaded - almost all my books are up. I'm going to keep my third case for my toys and computer/work related matter. Mom's going to help me find a nice wall shelf that is set on brackets (I keep thinking 'buttresses') so I can get my stereo up on the wall. I've got half of my art hanging now, too, with places chosen for at least a couple other works. I said stew came with a cat. Indeed, the new addition is named Toby (not sure on the spelling) and she's a very cute, somewhat rotund little busy-body. Hopefully, Willi and she will get along or at least ignore each other. We'll find out soon enough. I'll be bringing Willi back on Monday or Tuesday.

Anyway, I was thinking about where in the world I would like to visit if I could spend time (and money) traveling. So, I compiled a list of places that I haven't already been.

I'd like to cross Canada and take the Yukon/Alaska highway. New Orleans; New Mexico, Nevada, Calafornia; North Carolina; Peru; Brazil; Chile; Italy, specifically: Florence, Rome, Pompeii & Hurculaneam; Denmark; The UK, in depth; Japan; Indonesia; Iran; Kenya (always wanted to go); Tanzania; South Africa; Egypt; New Zealand. This is by no means an exhaustive list, just places that currently interest me, those in italics being at the top of my list.

As you can see, it's a very taxing day at work. I'm stuffing tax receipts into envelopes for want of other things to do. If you don't allow yourself a break every half hour or so, you'd go 'potty' as one of the senior volunteers said. I suppose she meant 'crazy' rather than 'pee', but with the amount of water I drink when I'm doing this, either could be true.

Well, getting back to Russian Ark, this was not a typical history film, nor was it a costume drama, in that there wasn't really a drama.

Highly abstract, non-linear, the camera takes the audience in and out of rooms and salons of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, following moments in the lives of those who made it their home and glimpsing those that walk through the halls now as visitors. The film opens with a very narrow view, constricted by the confusion of the 'narrator'. Quickly the camera gets lost in the myriad of servant stairs and we the viewer, looking through the narrator's eyes, get turned around and distracted as another soul, out of place, arrives, as confused as us. And it is confusing. There is too much diaolgue in the beginning of the film to support both the fascinating imagery and subtitles. However, as the conversation fades, becoming more intermittent as the movie goes on, the imagery and costumes become more impressive, rivetting, even.

We are allowed to glimpse moments of life and private experiences before the film's monumental end. Just as we entered, constrained, confused, and lost, we exit en masse with all the participants in a grand ball. Hundreds upon hundreds of people, file through sets of doors, leaving the dance to sweep down the great staircase and out into the future. We are witness to a low rumble of conversation, catching snatches of it here and there, as the camera moves with the crowd, washed forward as if on the tide.

One woman trips on the stairs, catching herself on the soldier before her, turning to laugh in embarrassment toward whomever is beside her. It is a natural moment, a tiny sliver of humanity, caught in a massive churning river of people. Another such moment, and in my opinion, the most poignant of the entire film, takes place as we leave the warmth of the interior to follow Catherine outside into the frigid, snow-covered garden. The snow crunches under her feet, a servant struggling to keep up with her as she begins to run - a moment free of her status, of her age, of the confines of the palace. The camera slows, and she and her servant grow obscure with distance, the sound of their footfalls disappearing as we turn a corner and return to the darkness of the palace.

Peppered with similar vignettes, Russian Ark is a fascinating film. I am not sure whether it is these or the groundbreaking technical feat of its creation that caused me to love the work as much as I did. There is only one take, one chance, the film never cutting, always rolling, everything that is captured is set in real-time. There are surprisingly few moments where I would have liked an edit, a cut scene, though the beginning could have done with less dialogue. I said I loved the film and, yes, I do, but I am not sure that I liked it. I would like to see it again, eventually, in order to catch all the things that I missed, but on video, so that I can skip through bits of it. That said, the sheer incredulity of its undertaking, make it a film worth seeing on the big screen.

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And now for something completely different.

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I moved into Nick's room yesterday. I make it sound so easy, don't I? It wasn't. I arrived at the house around 1pm to find that Nick wasn't moved out. My intention was that we'd do cleaning and then I'd move into his room, but because he was still in it, and all over the living room, as well, things did not go as planned. The only room not dominated by stuff, was the bathroom, which I set about cleaning. Then I set about my room, something of a den 'de' mess. I also mopped the hall and bathroom floors and vacuumed all the available spaces. The dust buffalo were in the midst of their semi-annual migration, heading where, I don't know, but in great numbers.

I had hoped that Nick would have cleaned the kitchen. I mopped its floor, but the cupboards and stove are somewhat covered in a film that can only be created by frying up a lot of goodness on the stove, something Nick does a lot of. I'd asked Nick to clean it a while back, but he never got around to it. Bad Nick. I've half a mind to invite him back to clean the cupboards even though he's gone. He did clean his room, which was good since it allowed me to start moving my stuff in while he was still there. Anyway, after work today, I'm heading home to move some of my crap around from one place on the floor to another, in order to make room for the couch that Stew's bringing in. Once that's in, I'll be able to figure out how best to fit my bookshelves along the walls and where to put up my art.

There are several bags for next garbage day, mostly in the living room and on the porch. It's amazing how much junk accumulates in two rooms over the course of half a year (I think that's about when we last cleaned out the crap). Big thanks to Rick and A d a m for helping me move my furniture. Also, to Rick who paid for a much needed dinner. One hundred times, thanks ! Anyway, I get a kick out of the fact that A___ helped out; it's not everybody who gets to say that a president of a federal political party helped them move. Needless to say, I slept pretty well last night, though it was weird being in the front room.

The weather over the last couple of days has been magnificent. Spring has sprung and the buds are budding. Saturday's 'breakfast' meeting involved doughnut holes, so after the productive (if unsatisfying) two-hour meet, we all picked up and went to the Black Horse pub for some lunch. The Black Horse is fast becoming the campaign team neighbourhood hang-out. Sitting out on the patio was great - warm, peaceful. The conversation was better than my sandwich, which was disappointing, but the fries are amazing. I dawdled there longer than I'd meant to and by the time I left some two hours later or so, I had a legitimate sunburn ! That night I was back in the Petes to volunteer my impressive sales skills (*laugh*) to the renewal campaign at the season's final concert. Well, I did rather well, scoring several donations and at least a couple new subscriptions. I think it must have been the cleavage. ;)

I was in TO yesterday for some ROM fun. It would have been a bore had I not been working with the people I was, who were entertaining and silly. There were very few people visiting the museum, most likely because the day was so beautiful. Why would you want to go into a museum when you could be out doing things in the wonderful weather? I fully understood. I hopped back into Bernadette (I borrowed Mom's car for the commute) and came back to the Petes where I helped Mom in the garden for an hour or so before taking a much deserved nap.

Willi is now allowed to go out into the garden for semi-supervised outings. The rule is that either Mom or I have to be out with her. She's wearing an old collar that belonged to Chester and is having a blast. She was out for hours and hours yesterday, climbing trees, stalking birds and squirrels, following Chester around and generally having a gay old time. She joined me for my nap and then slept soundly with me almost all night long. Talk about a tired kitty.

Today, I'm trying to do some work for Booboo and get my resume out to a few places. It's a tough slog, but I'm determined to find something soon. I think I might have to resign from the fanfilm I'm working on, though, due to serious time constraints. I'm not a superhero and as much as I want to be involved, it's nearly impossible. My skills aren't up to the task and my time doesn't permit me to relearn them. How very disappointing.

Tonight, I'm going to see Russian Ark that fascinating film that chronicles Russian history all in one take. It gets amazing reviews, but I know of at least two people that dozed off at points, so we'll see how it is. I'm pretty keen to see it and expect that it will at the very least be an interesting experience. Anyway, it's time to get me gone as I must get ready for my visit to the doctor - it's annual physical time.