 Electricity |
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I've been so quiet lately. This journal? Forget about it. I feel like I have nothing to say. My friends? I feel (with most of them) like, why bother? They won't understand. I don't even have anything to say to myself -- or if I do, I've forgotten how to talk to myself. I have strange but pleasing obsessions with Moulin Rouge and now Billy Elliot (which I watched last night over beer and sushi take-out while the smug marrieds all went camping), which made me burst into tears and laughter throughout. And I think part of what draws me to these films, specifically to Christian and to Billy himself, is that part of their characters that simply does not permit them to hold in their feelings. With Christian, he fills up with poetry and song and lights up the sky with his voice and his love. You see it all over his face, in his wide smile and in his eyes. And Billy -- he throws his entire body into the statement of what he cannot express in words -- be it in rage and defiance at his father's disapproval or in sheer joy as he kicks and twirls and stomps up the street or in the quiet, gentle treatment of his friend as he hands him a tutu and teaches him basic dance positions with all of the sweetness and patience and silliness that's reflected in the way he glances out the corner of his eye and flashes a slow, sudden smile. I noticed that Children of the Revolution is featured in both films -- in Moulin Rouge as the bohemians celebrate the investment in the show and again during the finale and in Billy Elliot as Billy runs in frustration from his father. I guess Christian and Billy are both the children of their own revolutions, in their own ways. Jamie Bell gave a magnificent performance and I'm so glad I pulled this movie off of the shelf last night as I faced a Saturday night alone as the smugs sat in the woods watching the flames of the campfire shine on their rings and I ate California maki rolls and acadian rolls with crawfish that set my tongue on fire and drank my favorite beer all by myself in spectacular Bridget Jonesian fashion while lying on the couch in gym shorts and a tank top that all too well emphasized the increasing bloatation devices that are my bosoms on the pill. I watched that little boy jump and spin and fall down and stand up again and stare his father and his teacher right in the eyes and I just laughed and laughed and cried and cried for him, wondering what might be my revolution, wishing to feel like electricity, and wondering how.
© Copyright 2001 words diminish |
I'm thinking of re-reading The Bean Trees. Watching I will soon be watching my new Billy Elliot DVD. And that of Waiting for Guffman which comes out on August 21, but who's counting? Listening I will soon be listening to my new Billy Elliot soundtrack which I just ordered online. Journal Quote du Jour I imagine him, holding me, marveling at me. I wonder what it is like, to have lived your life before the existence of this other person, to have created this person, to have been there when this person -- your child -- could not survive without you, and to one day look around and see that your child, she is on her own. This creature who could not have lived without you is her own person, she is herself, and if she chooses to share her joy and her pain with you, you are lucky. --Father and Child Reunion from Jessamyn's Internet Persona This made me (a) cry (b) regret not writing a Father's Day entry of my own. |
