Yes, Jacob. No, Edward.

But more importantly, thanks to Alice, I've discovered Failblog. It makes my days brighter. It's sort of like absurdist theater. I'm reminded of Samuel Beckett and Rosencrantz-era Tom Stoppard.

And thanks to Matt, I discovered Voxtrot a few (a couple?) of years ago. And not only does Voxtrot have an awesome podcast with videos and mixtapes and covers and live recordings, but they introduced me to the Takeaway Concerts (known to others as Concerts a Emporter). Honestly, there's nothing cooler than awesome bands performing songs live on the streets of Paris. Even if the bands weren't cool, the whole recording live videos on the streets of Paris is cool enough.

When did Heroes become a horror show and less of a superhero show? Not that I dislike horror, but I don't expect Hannibal Lecter horror on primetime television.

And I am back to preferring Jacob Black.

Time for a revision...maybe Jacob Black isn't the right one, says the girl on page 269. And slowly, the inappropriate crush on the fictional character is waning. But I still don't like Edward all that much.

Bella Swan is an idiot

Now, this is all I can say while on page 238 of New Moon. Bella Swan is truly an idiot. Okay, I get the whole obsession with the insanely beautiful, impossibly perfect Edward, but when there's a nice, sweet kid that you like spending time with and who doesn't want to suck your blood, why would anyone mope over Edward? Seriously. Maybe I'm the minority, but I actually think Edward's a bit annoying. All this "I love you, but I'm too dangerous, you should stay away from me, but here I'm going to kiss you because you're still there" crap irritates me. Not to mention that Bella's an idiot on all points that involve Edward and Jacob. And to anyone who cares for the opinion of a girl on page 238 of New Moon, Jacob is the right one. Although, considering that Bella is this much of an idiot (hiking alone when she shouldn't and her father just asked her not to?), Jacob's perfect for someone else, someone not an idiot in love with a vampire who ditched her. I'm renaming my Clapotis "Bella Swan is an idiot", as I'm knitting that while reading (the things I'm crocheting require more focus).

My sister tells me that Then She Found Me, the movie, is virtually nothing like the book. So, while I liked the movie (although, there's another character who doesn't deserve the perfection she screws over), she fumes over it because she doesn't understand why an ex-husband had to be invented and why pregnancy needed to be an issue.

What else? I'm severely behind on projects because someone keeps allowing me to start new ones. I haven't bought yarn in over three weeks, and I only thought about buying yarn six times in the last week. I made a tomato basil soup that was lovely, but the sister says isn't as good as Boudin's, but we both acknowledge that I had no idea what I was doing. And I have an inappropriate crush on a fictional character: Jacob Black. I hope I'm not the only one.

Oh, Alaska in Winter is so fucking awesome. And I am saying this as a total Zach Condon junkie, but really if there was a soundtrack to my life and way of thinking, "Dance Party in the Balkans" would be it. And if you were wondering, Zach Condon is another inappropriate crush I have, but he's too talented not to adore, so you can't judge me. If I didn't love him, it would be wrong on many levels.

I AM GOING TO TAKE A CLASS FROM CAT BORDHI!

Okay, so, I'm sure others have taken classes from her before, I mean she is the queen of thinking of innovative knitting, so I can't assume that I'm the first. But the thing is, I am a crocheter who knits. When I think of yarn, I think of crochet. I knit for reasons I'm not sure I understand because I realized a couple of weeks ago that the soothing effect crocheting has on me does not translate to knitting. In the end, I think it's that if I make a mistake in crochet, it's not the end of the world, but in knitting, I could lose everything (I'm just not as confident). But a knitting class from a knitting master! There's a part of me that acknowledges that if I didn't knit on occasion that I might have learned how to knit just to take one of her classes.

And if you are actually reading and are actually interested, I am taking the Moebius Basket class at the Yarn Boutique in Lafayette, California.

Plainsong with fringe

Plainsong was lovely. I highly recommend it. Highly. It's that sort of quiet and easy story that just seeps into you. It's the kind of story that makes you forget the obsessive love story of a teenager and a vampire. I almost don't want to go back to the Twilight series.

On the issue of new TV shows...Fringe. I'm not sure that I'll stay with the show, but I do know that Joshua Jackson is still adorable, and that soft spot I had for Pacey remains. I think I actually missed him.

I miss Twilight. I am sticking to my decision to take a break, but it hurts, which of course makes it sound like I don't like Plainsong, which isn't true. Plainsong is a quiet story and I like quiet stories.* But I miss the intensity of Twilight, the rush of the words.

Otherwise, it's a bitch working on big projects that feel like they'll never be done. I have two afghans wanting to be finished, a sweater I need to fix the collar on, hats that failed miserably, two afghans I need to start, a scarf to finish, the Clapotis, the things I'm forgetting, and the charity stuff for work. I need to learn not to start stuff before I finish other things.

And in honor of the Yarn Harlot's time in London, here's another photo of a bit of London. No crazy apocalyptic skies, but a building with bright red brick, brighter than any brick I've grown accustomed to here. (And if you are one of those people who want to know where this building is, it was on the walk from Kensington Palace to the Queensway station [which is one of my mom's dreaded stations because of the elevator] along Bayswater Road.)



*Quiet stories remind me of when a creative writing professor** mentioned that I didn't have much going on in my stories, and I still wonder what I was supposed to do. I argued that not all stories should have something crazy to them, but I don't think she liked my argument. Then again, I didn't like her stories, so it's sort of fitting. And what sort of person assigns her own stories as a reading assignment for a creative writing course? Honestly?

**Speaking of college, I think my freshman counselor (a senior at the time) is one of the writers of Four Christmases. Everything indicates it's him, but no distinct proof (unless there's something in the alumni magazine I rarely read if they aren't writing about the new completely sustainable building on campus).

We can have the whole world

It's been years since I read Hemingway*, but as I was cleaning up my bookmarks, I ran across a dead link to something I've always loved. But here's a live link:

Hills Like White Elephants

*Please note, I haven't read everything by Hemingway, only what little could fit into a geologist's class schedule.

movie obsessing

I totally forgot to talk movies.

Brief Encounter...flippin' awesome. Trevor Howard was so beautifully intense. Celia Johnson so marvelously tragic. I'm even amazed it was made in 1945. I can't express how much I love old movies (1950s and earlier) that don't suffer from over-acting in the extreme.

Control...Informative and tragic. Sam Riley was excellent. It made me want to listen to Joy Division and New Order. My only complaint is that an excellent actress like Samantha Morton was put in the role of wife. It's not like there were awesome parts for women in it, and if I was an awesome actress, I'd want to be in Control too, but at the same time, awesome actresses should have more options than playing the wife/mother/girlfriend/sister. I don't fault Control with this, it just reminded me.

And now, I'm watching one of my mainstays: Me Without You. Aside from Oliver Milburn, who is adorable and lovable as Nat, Michelle Williams and Anna Friel give such honest performances, especially Anna who lays everything out. And then there's the romance to it. But can I tell you how much I love the word "wretched", it sounds exactly like what it means and should be used much more often. (Edited to add that the use of "I Just Can't Get Enough" by Depeche Mode is also perfect.)

Deliberation

It took a day, two movies, lots of gripes, and angry knitting to decide on the correct path. My sister and I discussed what was what and we both decided that it was best if I waited on New Moon. We then decided that maybe a change of scenery would be good, which led to Plainsong getting the nomination (although, Magic For Beginners is existing as my in-case-I-need-something-a-bit-more-genre book). In the end, too much animosity towards teens, unseasonable anger on my part, and fear that what breezed by might turn into an aching sore.

I almost (was two steps away from it) picked up Half-Blood Prince again. But then, coupled with the new July release date and information that they added a scene of much peril at the Burrow to the movie, I decided that Harry Potter and I were on shaky ground as well.

On other notes: Ghirardelli Square is as busy as I remembered it, worse for the Chocolate Festival. And I can honestly say that the only reason I didn't leave on sight (which also would have been rude to my oldest non-family friend) was because the chocolate briefly soothed my anti-social personality. Too many airports in too few weeks, and too many people with too little sense. And then, the entire dorky reason I went was a complete let-down: The Pie Hole (from Pushing Daisies) was closed and all I got was a sucky flyer. Not to mention that everyone was in San Francisco today. I did take a few pictures of stuff, but it's standard stuff and taken because although I go the SF somewhat often, I rarely go to the tourist traps, so I never see Alcatraz that close.

Two things I've learned today:

1) Dream In Color's Fatty yarn is too bulky to make a Verity without it looking absurd, even with adjusting the pattern for obvious yarn size differences. I'd take a picture, but I'm too unphotogenic at this exact moment to dare.

2) I shouldn't think that I can outsmart Ysolda on her own pattern.

Then there's the thing I'm not learning:

How much did I like Twilight? I read the first 330 pages with enthusiasm, and then around 330, I took a break because I suddenly became annoyed. And I read the remaining 170 quickly, but I was always aware of my vague sense of irritation. Now, with the book finished and sitting on the footrest/yarn-concealer, do I want to start the next one now? Do I want to take a break and read something else? Maybe Half-Blood Prince again as I don't get the movie this November? Maybe finish a book I haven't been able to finish since January? A book I should have read last summer? Or any number of the books waiting for me?

Actually, as I considered reading Under the Rose or I Love You, Beth Cooper just then, I realized that I'm not in the mood for those younger than 23, which means that maybe New Moon is a bad idea. Does one rest on one's Neil Gaiman crutch, because he does always make me happy? Or do I go non-genre? Or do I go genre, but not Neil Gaiman or Stephenie Meyer?

As nothing came to me then, I suppose I should just watch Control or Brief Encounter and refocus.

Chocolate Festival tomorrow! And San Francisco buses...with tourists...at a tourist attraction...ugh.