25 September 2002

This is a public service announcement: go get some stuff from Steph The Geek. I mean it. Go, go, go. We got four jars of stuff from her yesterday, and the blackberry peach jam jar had broken, but the other three were intact. Timprov made a pepper-beef stir-fry with the plum sauce. Yum. And then later in the evening I was still a bit peckish, so I made toast and put the spiced blackberry jam on it, because, you know, it would have been a shame if Mark and Timprov had been blindsided by nasty jam, so I sampled it to make sure it was all right. All systems go. Go! Get some of this stuff. Fabulous. I can't wait to try the blackberry barbecue sauce.

Yum.

It also made me happy that Timprov was feeling up to both cooking and eating last night, as it's been touch and go for both for awhile. And he did the cooking while I talked briefly to C.J. It was nice.

The fly in the ointment was that my lower back had decided to punish me for writing and playing a stupid puzzle game on the stupid computer and generally for being a M'rissa. So it was screaming like mad. I did yoga. I felt very much worse. It was the kind of worse that progresses to better. But I had to go through the worse in the middle, and bleah, not good, very bad. I'm going up to Oakland to have lunch with David today, so that'll be time that I am not at the computer, which cannot fail to be a good thing. Do you hear me, back? Cannot fail.

I read the Salon review of "Spirited Away." They watched the dubbed version. Oh, no no no no no. You know how I said, "Don't try to figure out what you don't know! Just watch the movie!"? Evidently the dubbed version will not let you do that. It feels that it's important to name the big white fuzzy thing in the elevator "The Radish Spirit." That's not in the Japanese version at all, and from the consternation the characters display, I don't think the Japanese all recognize The Radish Spirit on sight, although any Japanese people or Japanophiles out there should feel free to tell me that I'm wrong and why. Argh. That's just frustrating. The moral of the story is, once again, do not watch the dubbed versions of Miyazaki movies. "Princess Mononoke" involved translations like "deer god" becoming "Spirit of the Forest." Sigh, sigh, SIGH.

Also, the Salon reviewer seems to have never seen anything imaginative in his life. He keeps on about how trippy the movie is and how it might not be appropriate for anyone, kids or adults, but it's certainly worthwhile. Trippy trippy, look at how trippy it is! Trippy. Yes, Mr. Reviewer Man, I see that the only experience you've ever had with the fantastic is that one time your college roommate scored some shrooms. But the rest of us can deal with movies that are not strictly realistic without freaking out. Honestly.

To change gears completely, when I read my Scientific American yesterday, I found out that Phylis Morrison died in July. And it made me sad. Phylis and Philip were my teachers at GAC for a semester-long seminar they called "The Beehive: Science and Society," and it was a great seminar. They were two little grey-brown pixie-people together. They were wonderful together, after all those years. She wore a fallen star for a wedding ring. They insisted on eating in the caf with us, and they had never tried Tater Tots before. They solemnly split one of Jen's and pronounced them "delightful."

We didn't write to each other afterwards, the way I have with Freeman now and then. (Freeman was the next year's Rydell Chair, a special visiting instructor post. And -- no slight meant to the Morrisons -- he rocked. I'm not just saying that because he likes my fiction, either.) But they were still two very special people, and the world is much poorer without Phylis. I hope Philip's doing well with it, as well as possible, as well as you could expect.

Damn.

Well, I'm going to get ready and head up to Oakland. I've got more to talk about, but it'll wait until tomorrow. Have a good day.