The Sacred And Profane, Part Whatever

Mr. Moon and I have been watching Deadwood again. I can't tell you how much I admire and adore that series. I honestly think it is the best thing I've ever seen on film. The writing, the set, the ACTING is just...well, god, it makes me wish I had an opportunity to do something like that. There are two people on the show whose acting Mr. Moon and I do not like. We discuss this. My cruelest observation of them is, "You can see them acting."
I hate it when I can see people acting.
I keep thinking that one character is my favorite but then I think of another and I decide that he is but then I think of another and I am sure that SHE is, and so forth.

They all have such beautiful, incredible faces. Interestingly enough, the two characters whom I do not find to be true have the most traditionally "pretty" faces. One a man, one a woman. 

We have watched these episodes so many times before but every time, I get struck again with the wonder of it, I pick up new things. There are layers and layers of incredible film-making and story-telling. The language is a wonder and a glory. The profanity, the poetry, the way it is used to razor-cut into the soul of humanity with all of our foibles and dreams and failings and greed and goodness and cruelty and love and imperfection and despair and brutality and grace. It is Shakespeare, it is Dickens, it is hip-hop, it is human.

I love it.

Well. La-di-dah. I am feeling all of those things I listed above. I am human. I might go spend some time with Lily and my grandsons today. I am a grandmother and I am a child, I am blessed, I am cursed. I am free and I am bound. I am ancient and newborn. I am pure and I am corrupt and I am corrupted. I am open-minded and I am intolerant. I am female and I am male. I want to dance like a ballerina, I want to swagger heavy-booted like a man with a gun on each hip.

I know and I do not know.

It is in the complexity that we find the beauty. And I think, quite possibly, the truth of it all.
Whatever truth is. Sometimes I think I know but then I don't.

I tell you what though- no one in this world can say "cocksucker" like Al Swearengen. Great name, great actor (Ian McShane), great word.

Happy Cocksucking Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Almost Forgot!

Kathleen's platelets are STILL not high enough for chemo. And they had to stick her twice before this decision was made. And we were all ready, cuddled in our little area and hunkered down and planning to raid the Nutter Butters in the coffee nook.

(Okay. We still did that on our way out.)

So what's a girl to to do?
Shop. At the Goodwill.
And have lunch where the proprietor man could not take his EYES off Kathleen. When we were leaving he rushed up and asked if we needed refills of our drinks before we left. He asked this, looking directly at Kathleen and she said, "Some water would be nice," and he took her cup and did not even hesitate to see if I wanted anything before flying off and getting her clean, fresh water and adorning her cup with slices of lemons and limes. Both. And THEN he asked where we were from. And when he said, "You," he meant Kathleen.
It was charming. He was cute too. I mean really cute.

So then (and this is not related at all to the former paragraph but completely random) on the way home we were at a stop light and I said, "Damn. I just this minute remembered my New Year's resolution!"
"What was it?" asked Kathleen.
"To use the word cocksucker more!" I said.

We howled.

I need to get busy. That word isn't going to say itself now, is it?





There. That should help.
Thanks to my imaginary friends from Deadwood.