Thinking of divers things fore-known

I’m not quite sure how to get this blog back into a place of normality again. Assuming, of course, that I can arrive at an understanding of what “normal” is supposed to look like here, where there has been no strong sense of continuity to begin with.

But I still want to post something, so here’s an anecdote.

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I couldn’t come up with a clever title

Remember when I used to blog here?

These recent months have been such that I haven’t felt the desire to keep up the usual rate of blogging fluff, nor have I wanted to blog about what’s been going on until arriving at some degree of peace. Which I do believe I have now found, though there’s no gentle way to ease into the present state of affairs.

So, here goes: I’m an Anglican now.

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Your theses, my angels, are they not cruel?

So, Neon Genesis Evangelion hit Netflix recently, which prompted a re-watch on my part, which means I have an Opinion on it.

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Stand by me

I don’t want to live a double life. That’s part of why I write here about a lot of my weird personal stuff here in addition to all the…whatever it is I do on this blog. Anyway, it turns out that Utena auteur Kunihiko Ikuhara has a new anime called Sarazanmai, which is all about secrets and double-lives. I’ve been trying to write about it for some time, and I think I’m just going to have to settle for just a bunch of scattershot, semi-complete thoughts if I don’t want to be too late to the party.

(Spoilers I guess?)

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Only skin

I suppose it’s been about a year or so since the initial existential freakout which caused the ensuing months to be a bit of a mess, spiritually speaking. So maybe it’s worth taking stock of where I’m at right now, what we’ve learned in the interim.

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End of an era

Let’s do a movie thing. It’s been a while.

Writer-director Whit Stillman is probably the closest thing American cinema has to a Jane Austen, in that his movies tend to be comedies of manners about insular, WASPish social circles with a slant towards romance and sexual politics. What I’ve seen of his stuff is really quite delightful, and I’m only surprised at how slow I’ve been in working through his slim filmography. I saw Damsels in Distress when it was in theatres back in 2012 or whenever and loved it for its skewering of undergraduate pretentiousness, then only about a year ago saw his most recent one, Love and Friendship, which actually is an adaptation of an Austen novel (Lady Susan) and managed to be a visually beautiful period piece in addition to being hilarious.

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Raised in the jungle by wolfes

I forgot to make note of it on here, but Gene Wolfe died recently. Needless to say, he was one of a handful of fiction writers who had an absolutely essential impact on me. He also helped design the machine used to make Pringles, and, though I somehow didn’t realize this until someone pointed it out the other day, he looked a lot like the Pringles mascot too.

RIP, Gene.

With Jack Vance and Ursula Le Guin also gone, it appears that I have no one who can currently fill the roll of favourite living sci-fi/fantasy author.

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Items recently read

As it says in the title.

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In which I say words like ‘otakusona’

So, as discussed previously, my thirtieth year on this planet brought the return of my younger flirtation with makeup and such, and as it turns out I can do this sort of thing with greater precision and confidence, as the intervening years have made me both more disciplined and more confirmed in my eccentricities. Anyway, it feels quite natural to offset my appearance with a bit of feminine fashion.

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Brute beauty

The Windhover, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, or, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous. O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

I don’t read enough poetry these days.

It’s been an ok Lent. I haven’t discovered any new wells of piety within me, and I’ve failed at times. But I think I’ve found the thread, the sensation of Easter not just as an exclamation point on the calendar, but as time’s true center of gravity.

I apologize again for being a little tongue-tied on here as of late. There is, as usual, a lot swirling around inside my head on multiple fronts, but the words haven’t been as forthcoming.

Anyway, I hope you guys have a blessed Easter.

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