dinner, plane flight, parents’ house

Moomin almost puked during the plane landing! It was horrible! The rest of the flight I read a Mrs. Pollifax novel about being in Sicily and … “art” or something. It was one of the lamest books ever written. I wondered WTF… did I used to enjoy reading this series for some good reason? Or was I being really brain dead? Because this one was brainless, awful schlock and not in a good pop-culture-analyze-it way.

Last night after a dinner with us all at Bucccck’s, and non-stop superhero conversation and whether the hal jordan Green Lantern was cowardly or great for being masked.. sparked by Moomin…. Chula showed me this comic of JImmy Olsen as a Viking to illustrate why Jimmy Olsen is an asshole… and then the parody version of it in modern-style with old Jimmy photoshopped in. It was so great! We were talking about who was the audience (preteen boys?) and were they expected to identify, etc. Actually I think what I said was right in that they are stories about masculinity and class… sort of that there’s a meritocracy or natural aristocracy and the people who (like superman) can do great things can just do them. but people who (like jimmy) aren’t suited, shouldn’t try to wield power even if they have the tools to do it with, they dont’ know how to do it right. so it’s this political message… and it’s also kind of establishing the idea of man-ness. you either are (infallible adult authority) superman, or you are a dumb little boy. there is no in between! and so Jimmy has to be put in his place… and shown up whenever he tries to be a hero. and any heroism he thinks he has, is just faked to make him feel good about himself! that’s so sad! it’s the attitude of many an adult guy towards boys… that whole military upbringing thing… blah blah blah!

My parents house as always is super comfortable. it is even more full of books. I went around taking pictures of all the bookshelves. and of this car that minnie made out of a cardboard box, the tops from milk jugs for wheels, sparkly beads (which made me think maybe i made it? but it was her handwriting) and a license plate that said “squirrel power”. the handiwork of her and a.e. I’m sure… and headlights made from pennies. fuckin’ a… it’s hilarious.

I still have the clay totoro that moomin made for me when he was three. its ears are leaves.. brown and crumbling.

my dad came up with a great idea about the soul stock market. Everyone would sell shares of their soul. they’d go around trying to convince people that their souls are super valueable. different religions might spark buying frenzies.. or atheists… and people would pool their souls in mutual funds so investors could diversify conveniently. stock market experts make all that shit up anyway. so they’d have a great time making up shit about people’s souls and moral futures and ethical performances in the past. “It would be like the Internet bubble, or tulipmania” said my dad, increasingly wild-eyed, giggling, looking at the ceiling as if he could see it all projected there. “Like Enron.”

Moomin dove into the books as soon as we got here. My mom knows how to connect to him! she’s got his number. he is in heaven what with the attention, the books, the surety that he is King and God here… and the stuffed animals… i know it will weird him out deeply to be here without me and Rook, but I think he’ll also have a great time. This is certainly a house where people know how to all read together in a companionable way, loafing on couches. He digs that. My dad will also get on the floor and play endless games of Animal Adventures, explorers, wars, etc.

I could hang out here reading for a good long time! I mean, I already did that. And it would drive me nuts. My mom has already given me a lot of her old clothes from Fembot’s and Cheeko’s. *shudder* but also one nice long-sleeved tshirt that is very tight. she kept saying how she loved it… and i kept saying then why give it to me… and she finally went all funny and said it would not be appropriate really and so she never wears it anywhere… and I was like “Oh, you mean it makes you look too hot?” er! whoops! did I say that ? she laughed and said that was pretty much it. Earlier in the evening she showed me a cut on her hand that needed stitches apparently… but when it happened she was wearing no makeup and was in sweatpants and couldn’t cope withthe thought of trying to “get ready” to go to the hospital while holding a compression bandage on her spurting bloody wound. oooookay! I dont’ get it how you can’t look sweaty and un-made-up but you also can’t look hot. oH well! Wow, i just noticed how being “made-up” is like being … pretend.

When she retires i will give her fabulous hippie outfits, and mary janes with flames, and an olive-colored convertible with orange and teal detailing.

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