miss adventures

What would Honey say?

This Blond Bond business. Are we sure about this? This morning felt like Spanish class, period 2, 1993, when j. told me that they had cast a new Scarlett O'Hara and she did not have green eyes. No, Joanne Whalley was no Vivien Leigh. I have hope for Daniel Craig, but odds are, he is also no Sean Connery. Or even Pierce.

But, the Broccolis seem to be sticking to their age-old formula of pendulum swinging. Connery was the perfectly sardonic, overtly sexual Bond. So they brought in George Lazenby to sober it up -- and it went extreme. Enter Roger Moore, the most clownish Bond of them all. (Moonraker, anybody?) So then their answer was Timothy Dalton, again, a return to the dark roots as Ian Fleming intended. After all that gravity, we wanted gloss and commercialism so they brought us Pierce. With the endorsements. And the cliches. And the babes. In the Bond timeline, then, Daniel Craig is what the Dr. No ordered.

Ian Fleming's Bond has grey eyes. Mentioned often in the books as cold, steely. Maybe this will work after all. Never did get around to seeing Layer Cake, and now here's the motivation.

In other news, I have heard a lot of toxic things lately that challenged my perenially good mood. After another 10-hour workday (just a few this week), I went back to my parents' for dinner. It was oddly comforting to sit there amidst a bit of clutter, eating leftovers. We had pork spareribs that I hadn't eaten for years. (But these weren't leftovers; they were freshly made, I mean.) I felt as if I had come home from school. Being there, my life pared down to the simplicity of that moment and the reliability of home.

Later, I wondered, what is it about a long drive that heals everything? Another wave of calm, speeding down the highway, remembering the many happy moments that colored my week. What my friend's little boy said when he saw snow out their window. Jumping on a springboard in Pilates class, doing quick beats with my feet. The new pair of heels that just won't quit. Warbling on my dad's fancy mic with their encouragement. Beers with Reyna, the both of us smiling smugly. And recently, I gave a good friend a long hug, and told him that I loved him. "Don't let go," he said. That was so nice.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 12:32 AM