Les Poissons

Tres Fishies in less than 24 hours.

I lamented last night to my good friend Cindy that I hadn't had a Fishy or felt connected to mom in at least 6 months. (not counting the 2 Fishies that told me to have that hot-vacation-sacredsex last month, because, well, mom was kind of a tart in her day so I expect to still hear THAT message from time to time, since she disapproved that I'm such a goodie goodie...)

A couple minutes after telling Cindy I've not heard from Mom and feel disconnected, I asked her about the progress on our "Hollywood Reporter" listing. We go into production on the feature film "The Commune" in less than two weeks, and super-busy Cindy was taking care of that paperwork for Heidi and me. The last change had been to add Mom as the Executive Producer, since we're using my inheritance. Which still makes Heidi and me cry every time.

I said "Did you turn in the paperwork before I asked to make Mom the EP?" and Cindy started to answer, but was cut off by a weird EMF. So I asked again, and as she answered she was cut off AGAIN. And then I realized...We were both in our respective homes, not moving, and that was not a regular cell phone noise AT ALL. Nope. That was this.

Because I can say these things to Cindy, I did my infamous Don't Think I'm Crazy But... "I just got a Fishy from Mom."



And she said "Yes, you did. Because I'm sitting here eating Fishy crackers."


Those cheesy delectables Mom loved.



Awesome. And then we both got all teary and started laughing.


SECOND FISHY:

An hour later, I'm watching "What Not To Wear", which I always watched with Mom. And one of the clients on there (the one with the dog Peanut) says thank you to Clinton and Stacy for helping her to learn to dress as a woman, because her mom died when she was nineteen and wasn't able to teach her. Then she said something about still talking to her mom, and how proud her mom would be, and that she said thank you too. Which totally gave me another frisson.

THEN today I receive an email from Brian that his French publisher asked permission to use a picture from Brian's blog for their blog. He said yes, not knowing which one. Then they published an absolutely lovely modeling photo of Mom, and an even lovelier blurb about how getting to know her through Brian's blog made the book even better.

As Brian said, Mom's finally getting to be a fashion model in France -- half a century too late.

That woman is still full of miracles.


My rough translation of the French article:

August 31, 2007
"Brian's Mother"

In the very beautiful "Mom's Cancer", which we published in March, Brian Fies recounts the illness of his mother who died before it was published in the United States. Brian came across figure photos and put them on his website for her 68th birthday. Those of you who own and appreciate the book, read and look at the post.

(Take that, Madame Sikora!

I can honestly say, if that woman hadn't hated me and made my Sophomore year hell, I'd be fluent in French today. Damn High school teachers.)

Bad programmer!

You can see why I'm an EX- computer worker. Posted the wrong link to the They Live South Park satire on YouTube. THIS is the one my awesome brother showed us.

Not sure how to feel about there being two versions. Regardless, Carpenter, Matt, and Trey are all geniuses.

For you daters

Was taken to Campanile on Third and Fairfax. Thoroughly enjoyed the company, marathon of wit, delectable European-style dining (slow and teasing), and sitting two feet from the director of "LA Confidential" as I discussed pre-production on my directorial debut.

Reminded me of the great winery eats from my hometown, minus the genius auteur clientelle. Well, that's not true. NoCal has a few roaming genius auteurs, but they shuffle around in Birkenstocks and don't have the rest of the patronage stopping by their table to brown-nose for three hours. It must be a chore to be beloved.

Ewwwwww

Is there anything grosser than going to a guy's website and seeing all his friends are women? It's like a diagram of everyone you'd be kissing if you kissed him. Blech!

Do they really think we don't notice? Or think the attention makes them more attractive, maybe? Right, because the way to a woman's vagina is by making sure she knows she's in a deli line. Everybody loooves feeling unspecial...

They Live while you sleep

Just back now from location scouting and line producing for the shoot in northern California. Less than two weeks before my feature directorial debut!

Had a blast revisiting "They Live" with Brian and my nineteen-year-old nieces. Then Brian showed us the infamous South Park satire:

Brie & onion tart, Bean & onion saute

Bean & Onion Saute
from Family Circle magazine

Cook 2 pounds mixed green, yellow and purple beans, trimmed, in boilling water 4 minutes or until crisp-tender. Drain. Heat large skillet over medium-high heat; add 1/4 pound prosciutto, chopped; saute 3 minutes. Remove, set aside. Reduce heat to medium-low; heat 1 tablespoon olive oil. Add 2 medium-size onions, halved and thinly sliced. Cook 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until light golden. Add beans, prosciutto and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper to pan. Heat through. Makes 8 servings.

Brie & Onion Tart
from About.com

five medium onions, sliced in wedges
A puff pastry (buy them pre-rolled.)
Butter
a few slices of bacon cut in thin strips
Fresh thyme or rosemary
brie - a triangle 3-4 inches wide at the base with the rind still on.

Sauté onions in butter until they start to go soft. Add the bacon. Add a handful of fresh thyme or rosemary. Grind some pepper into the pan. When it's all soft and buttery, roll out your pastry. Use a blunt knife to trace an crust half an inch from the edge of the pastry. Slice the brie in long thin strips and spread half of them on the pastry in a radiating circle. Tip the onion and bacon mixture onto the pastry (you can drain them first if you like) and spread it over the pastry to the edge you traced. Spread the rest of the cheese on top of the onion mixture. Put in a hot oven (375 fahrenheit) for 20-30 minutes or until the pastry is brown, the onions have just started to brown and the cheese is bubbling. Let it cool for a few minutes before serving.

Nanking

Nanking the documentary.

Saw it at the Arclight as part of the IDA (International Documentary Association) festival this week. My friend Hugo is in it. Heidi and Sarah and I were blown away. Jenine saw it as well at a different screening. So far it looks like only smart activist female producers are viewing it. Surely there are more humanists out there?

Go support the film, and spread the word. It deserves the Academy Award nomination. And then get some therapy to get over the atrocious images of the bayoneted kids, raped women, beheaded men, the United States and the world let suffer only 70 years ago.

Effing eff eff

Cinespia is one of my favorite things to do in the summer. I look forward to it all blasted year.

This season has been particularly bad in the film choices. Huge disappointment. As yet, I've only been to "Holy Mountain." Which was a SPECTACULAR experience, in movie and in friends and in gourmet picnic.

But woh ho ho, what do we have hear? My eighth favorite film playing this Saturday? But of course!


And I will be out of town location scouting.

Merde.

Happy Birthday Mom

Today would have been Mom's 68th birthday.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about and miss my best friend and mentor.

Brian has a lovely post and photos of her.

Meanwhile, I spent the day yesterday being tutored one on one by an amazing Polish cinematographer who almost shot Martin Scorcese's daughter's first feature and wants to shoot mine...pretty cool. It was already crazy day, because we just officially went into preproduction on The Commune on Monday, for a start date in September.

Why bring this up on Mom's Birthday?

It's why she busted her ass to get us back down here.

She told Brenda and me that she wanted to live in LA (translation: die in LA), which is the kind of trump card no child can say no to. So we all sold our houses and made a very scary journey down to LA while she was in a tentative remission. Bought her dream of a family compound minimansion and moved in together like the Brady Bunch.

The day we packed up the cars and drove down the I-5, they dropped me off half an hour late for my first screenwriting class in the Professional Program at UCLA.

On her deathbed, I found out Mom didn't want to live in LA. She didn't want to see me rot and die in Santa Rosa.

Thanks Mom. You're the Executive Producer of The Commune. And all my movies.

Sh*t Goddamn

You know, I just bought the big second season of Twin Peaks in June. No word of this super duper collection coming five months later.

I hate the DVD industry. This is just crap. Now I have to try to sell my other Twin Peaks DVDs, and buy this one?

I mean it's my favorite anything of all time, but COME ON! I have a busy life here people. I don't have time to get dicked around by this consumer game. I'll just rip the DVDs for free, aholes.

Empowered Filmmakers

Here are my rocking, talented friends at the prestigous DGA Visionfest Awards:

Cindy Baer, me, Marty Elcan, Leslie Lello.

We had such a blast. What an amazing night. Laura Dern and the Polish Brothers were so inspiring, and Marty Elcan's film "Crossing the Line" was great. Ran into a bunch of old friends and met some new ones afterwards at their awesome shindig in the lobby. We even got to dance!

NoCal Alert

Because you northbayers complain about my joyous spontaneity. Open your dayplanners. I'm coming for bidness: location scouting and auditions. Then some talking, laughing, and to exchange the piles of books and CDs you all loaned me for new ones.
I leave Thursday, but I only have free time Sunday night through Tuesdayish. Call/email.

Oui? À bientôt!

There is no spoon

The Beastie Boys were effing awesome tonight at the Greek! If you're in LA, get your butt to the Wiltern Tuesday night and buy a scalped ticket. So worth it, even without them playing all their hits. I do love going to concerts alone. You meet the coolest people to dance with. For a very sweaty hour and a half.

I'm down two pant sizes now in 20 days, firmed up my breasts but not lost a smidge of cupsize. Impossible? There is no spoon.

LA buddies: I'm planning another pirate CD exchange party and an 80s dance night for Labor Day week-ish. Email me. And does anyone west coast swing? I've got a hankering. I've got a date elsewhere, but David Lynch is available again this week to you...Barnes and Noble at the Grove Tuesday night; wristbands at 5:30 pm. My fascination with Lynch is well-documented here. You really must meet him.

So here's the single most important book you could ever read in your entire life:
The 4 Hour Work week.

The 4 Hour Work-week is the exact lifestyle I'm designing right now. Less work, less things, more happiness. World travel unlike anything Americans experience, though personally I'd be thrilled with hot ballooning in Croatia, theatre in Prague, looooong gourmet meals and laughing with friends while they play the guitar under a Buenos Aires sunset.

Utter freedom and no itinerary forever. Adventure. Experience.

I double dog dare you. If you have kids, I triple dog dare you. "Your horizons must be widened."

(Is it wrong that I've seen "Becoming Jane" enough that I can mimic James McAvoy? I've finally realized I don't want him, I want to be him. Oh my gods, what a fantastic insight...somebody good give me a blurb that says "Elisabeth Fies is the female James McAvoy" so that I can CONFOUND industry folk...Loooove!)

By the way, has anyone had any insight yet as to which orifice I stuffed my Rome Season 2 DVDs into? Because they're due back at Blockbuster, and I've looked everywhere thrice. Including my ass and the freezer.

Pistoleras news!!

WAIT until you see the blurb we got from A-list action director Paul W. S. Anderson about the Pistoleras script.

Oh. My. God.

Why I'll always love Roger

Yes, it's because of his ability to distinguish whether a film is good within its genre rather than based on its genre, and because of his feminist viewpoint...but also because of this:

This funeral has Peter Dinklage (as Peter), who is becoming my favorite go-to actor for any movie that needs someone to go to. Like Rosie Perez, Danny De Vito, Queen Latifah or Christopher Walken, he has that ability to make you brighten up and take notice, because with such a person on the screen something interesting is bound to happen. Dinklage can look handsome in that menacing way that suggests he's about to dine out on your fondest hopes and dreams. - excerpt from Death at a Funeral review

I always learn something about humanity when I read his reviews. Sadly, often more than I would from viewing the films themselves.

Stick around the planet, Mr. Ebert. With mom gone, you're the one I want to show the films I make.

The Fountain

Beautiful graphic novel version of the feature film "The Fountain." Epic sci-fi story about true love.

And wouldn't you know it, the characters slept together on the first date...just like Sydney Poitier and his wife of 20 plus years. Rules, Schmules. If your guy is emotionally mature, it doesn't matter. When it's love at first sight, you know it.

It's a cool story about the graphic novel. When studio funding fell through for the Brad Pitt movie version, Darren called Vertigo and they started working on the comic...the "ultimate director's cut". Then Darren remembered his guerilla film roots, slashed the script and the budget, and got to make the movie version with his future wife Rachel Weisz. L'amour. The graphic novel and the film ended up coming out at the same time. Synchronicity.

Warning: it's a cancer plot. Death ensues. If you're not up for a crying jag, avoid for now.

Love note to a stranger

To whomever found my site after googling "Success stories of winning your girlfriend back":

Go find her. Please. Get her back.

If there's one thing I learned by caretaking for Mom those years...

Life is so short. People make the stupidest excuses to protect their hearts. Nothing is more important than love. Nothing. Nothing can't be done for love.

Someone you feel affinity for...that ease and connection...that hardly ever happens in a lifetime.

It's the only thing that makes life worth living. Fight for it.

There's AMAZING coaching out there to help men and women understand each other and build powerful relationships.

Commit to working on your relationship, and go get your woman. Make her your wife.

Go.

When I'm 64

Watching "The Abyss" right now on Sci Fi. Ed Harris' ex-wife just chose to drown to save them both. Oh, there she goes...so beautiful. Now he has to swim back to the sub and try to revive her. Sigh.

Okay, yesterday was so fun...Hollyshorts was a great networking opportunity. Cindy kicked ass in her on-camera interview.

Then last night was my friend Melinda's b-day party at the Hollywood Bowl. Every year she gets a group of 40 friends together to buy out three rows. Last night was the best one ever...


One of my favorite artists...Joan Osbourne (go buy her "Righteous Love" CD now), Aimee Mann, Cheap Trick, Ministry

Oh, Ed's slapping his dead wife right now, yelling at her "You've never backed away from anything in your life, now FIGHT!!!!"...and she wakes up. Now he's just staring at her, stroking her hand.

Wow. Someday a man's going to love me that much. Or at least enough to call me to say thank you after I let him into my holiest of holies.

Phew, okay, back to the concert: you missed out. It was gorgeous. An awesome experience. The entire album as relevant and insightful about the human experience as it was forty years ago. To hear some of the songs live was crazy and moving. I still have lyrics floating through my head:

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

The discovery of the night was Ian Bell, guitarist of the British band "Gomez". We all thought he was nineteen, but from what I found online he must be 28ish. Soooo talented. So utterly adorable, playful, authentic. Sigh. He's from Liverpool too, and when he messed up a lyric and uttered a joyful laugh, it was like injecting a piece of John into my heart.

Ed Harris is dying now..."Love you WIFE."

Ah, god.

Manifestation 101

I'm 8.5 pounds down. Sweet.

Through a date I had a few weeks ago, I realized some important things and have made some big changes in my life. I'm totally clear on what I want to manifest:

To share my life with a partner. I want to meet that person I'll love for a lifetime.

What I'm looking for?

Top three? Social, happy, sweet.

Monogamous. Has chemistry with me. He's actively pursuing some avocation he loves - even if not making money at it yet. Supportive. We spur each other on in our respective creative ventures. Kind. Proximity, at least part of the year. Fun and quick to laugh. Genuine. Not hung up on materialism, popularity, surface. Strong and secure. Turned on by a dame with brains. Feminist. A foodie. Romantic and gentle in bed. Always kissing me, and likes to hold hands. Wants to leave the world a better place. Not sure he wants kids. Loves to travel. Cherishes me. Is open and authentic with me. Believes in himself and gets pleasure from being a good man.

Dealbreakers? Smoker. Drugs. In debt and not working on it. Doesn't want me as much as I want him. Lack of courtesy. Doesn't get along with my friends.

Have to think about it more. I'm not a big believer in lists. The only things my exes had in common was their uniqueness and passion for me.

But I met someone great I would have had a second date with, and his dealbreaker was living two hours apart. Important to know. See, I would love having one great date a week and sending a romantic letter or a couple emails in between. It would help keep me from falling for him too fast, and at the same time I tend to fall in love in men's absences. If things worked out and we were exclusive? His city was already on my list of places I'm looking at moving to. If I thought it was a soulmate thing, two hours is childsplay. A fun challenge to make me creative. I can be reallllly creative. And fun.

What seems totally doable and a goofy excuse to one person is death to another. You can rationalize it all you want, but you can't convince someone out of their dealbreaker. You just walk away and go meet someone else. I'm learning. Learning not to be a romantic.

What are your preferred qualities and dealbreakers?

Hollyshorts

Going to spend the weekend with my amazing friend Cindy Baer at Hollshorts at Cinespace. Join us for only $30 for three days! Her b-day is Sunday, when her short film "Morbid Curiousity" screens at 2:30.

Smart cookie Cindy continues to amaze and inspire,this time by being interviewed in today's Backstage West article.

"Actor-director-producer Cindy Baer, whose award-winning short Morbid Curiosity will screen at the festival Aug. 12, previously found success on the festival circuit with her feature directorial debut, 2004's Purgatory House. She said, "By creating your films, not only do you get to focus on projects you love but it provides a great opportunity to build relationships with other filmmakers who will cast you in future projects...Baer urged actors to take the director's seat. "You have to do it for yourself because nobody else -- not even your agent until you get to a certain point -- is going to do it for you," she said. "It's not fun to be at the mercy of other people, hoping they will hire you."


Amen! Cindy rules, and is one of the nicest and best-intentioned Leo's I know. Remind me to do everything she suggests career-wise. Sometimes I don't, and I always regret it.

And rent "Purgatory House" from Blockbuster or Netflix.

What time is it?

Anyone want to go to Sunset Junction next week? Morris Day and the Times on Saturday!!!! Buzzcocks and She Wants Revenge Sunday night. Plus those amaaaaazing corn on the cob vendors who pour butter, lime juice and chili powder on the freshest white kernels ever....

Happiness diet

Okay, I've tried to explain this biochemistry weirdness to my male friends before and they never believe that women can do everything right with diet and exercise and still not change their bodies. But it's absolute when I'm stressed and in mourning, and for a lot of you caretakers out there this will ring true.

Now that I'm happy and don't give a fig about my weight, I'm losing it. No diet, no exercise, but I'm five pounds down and an entire size since last week. It's both a "yea!" and a "harumph". I'm a big believer in energy and chakras, so it's probably more about me being happy enough again to operate out of my normal state of excitement and joy and openess about life. Regardless, things are working and I need some weight off just to be able to captain a film shoot, so I'm going to ride this train and diet and do Pilates so I can be another ten pounds of grief down by September. I just hope I don't lose too much too quickly, because I'd like to still be a "real woman" size to play my character in this film. It's really important to me to get on camera that earthy and curvy can be totally sexy, before I lose my double Ds and sucumb to the Hollywood twig mentality to be able to sell the film this winter in meetings.

I also joined a high calibre matchmaking group. I highly recommend it. I'm not entirely sure why I'm doing this now when I'm so busy, because when I joined Match while Mom was sick I was completely overwhelmed by men. But I have to learn how to date properly somehow so that I don't pick someone by default and I get a better feel for men romantically in general. I always liked being Marion Dashwood and liked that I only let maybe one great guy have a shot a year, but that hasn't worked for me now, has it? So it's time to grow and let go of who I was. Time to learn to be authentic and in integrity with men while they're pitching themselves to me, and how to be so compassionate and kind when I say no that it's a good experience for both of us, and not to give my heart away for free to the Willoughby scoundrel who makes it flutter. How exciting! I think I'm about to meet some really quality people who get that love is what makes life worth living.

Ah god, enough enough enough about me. Here is my friend David Lago's supersexy celebrity slimdown diet. He regularly adds or drops ten pounds in a week for Y & R and other movies (though I still maintain that's because he's a hunter/forager and that women's childbearing bodies don't allow it):

Eat six small meals a day so you're never hungry, never full. Mostly eat low fat protein. If you normally have a tuna fish sandwich for lunch, eat half at one meal and half at the next. Drink lots of water before and after each meal. Don't eat less than four hours before bedtime. If you're starved and have to, enjoy something easily digestible like a few egg whites or a protein shake with no carbs. An hour of cardio and and hour of weightlifting a day.

That's it! Not that easy, not that hard...sort of in the middle discipline area of things I've done in the past. Though honestly, he was more convincing when I was stoned. But at least you're eating more than the average starlet's tic tac diet, so that's pretty good. Let me know if you try it and it works. I'm starting this week.


I've personally seen Dave drop what, twenty pounds in two weeks? That was last spring for "Obsidere." And now that he's playing a main character in my film that we're shooting this October, he's got a bur up his butt to get cut like a Spartan for it. For the record, I am no nasty producer/director. I told him he looks great the way he is now. It's all him ladies, so you can thank him for the discipline when he takes off his shirt on camera.

Have you guys taken my advice and bought "300" yet? I'm telling you, you can toss out your porn and just wear out this DVD. In constant rotation at my place. Thigh trembling will ensue.

Tickled pink

I'm so ridiculously blessed. Of course I miss mom and always will, but at the same time I think this may be the happiest time of my life. So far.

I was able to stand by my mom through her death. I've processed my grief. I've had time to be alone, to be with friends, to read, to write. I'm beholden to no one, no thing.

And here I am now, finally beginning to feel accomplished and believing my writing can contribute something to people. I can do it anywhere in the world, choose any path I want. I have true freedom. I just finished a script I love, that mom would have loved, and we're planning to shoot it this fall. Amazing.

I went to "Becoming Jane Austen" tonight with Heidi, and realized it's amazing how lucky I am living in this era as an intelligent woman. My choices and opportunities are almost as great as a man's, and that's really something too many people take for granted. I can say yes or no to anything I want. I don't need anyone's permission to have a life I love living.

I had a beautiful date last Saturday that I appreciated beyond words. He put thought into it, the locations were lovely, the conversation was fantastic, he was generous and warm and open to me, and a spectacular person. Attractive inside and out. I enjoyed the small part of him I got to know. The evening couldn't have been more fun or made me happier. Just incredibly pleased.

It was all unexpected and accidental, and brought into technicolor that I'm ready to date again. I've turned down so many kind men because of mom's illness, and then her death. There have always been men there for me, but I felt like a ghost of myself. They had all this emotion for me, and expectaction, or wanted an instant relationship, and I was so run down and shut down from supporting mom. Just a shell. It hurt them so much. And their kindness and disappointment cut me.

But now, after Saturday, I've rediscovered how much I have to give, and to receive, and that I can just laugh again and enjoy a man's company and connect with his delightful eyes and feel even happier about my life, just sharing the moment with him.

Like a drug, it makes me want to go experience it again. So many opportunities and sweet men who want to take me out and make me happy. The timing couldn't be better, having just come back from Comic-Con where I was a geek goddess amongst 100,000 men. There were some really interesting guys who asked me out (only one marriage proposal this time), and this time I'm going to at least talk to them all. I even went to a single mingle at sushi last night. Didn't meet anyone I was attracted to, but then got asked out at Blockbuster.



It's spectacular. My life is awesome. Mom only ever wanted me to be happy, and here I am at last, doing her proud after all her hard work.

Revere

"Let your dream devour your life, not your life devour your dream." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I met someone over the weekend who has the exact life I wanted before Mom got sick and everything blew up for years. He works part-time as a contractor for corporations, setting his own hours to accomodate his night-owl proclivity. Lives in a beautiful city simply enough to use the rest of the time to pursue his passions: painting, music, travel, volunteering.

Exactly what I'd pictured.

And now that I'm moved into my lovely place, and almost all my boxes are unpacked, I'm looking around dissatisfied.

Too much stuff owns me.

I had dreamt of filling this apartment with laughing friends and a loving boyfriend. Cooking walnut-apple brie, fondue, fritattas, T-bone steaks, sauteed mushrooms, garlic mussels and my famous Caesar salad for them all. Sitting down at my round table on my purple velvet dining chairs with red wine and sweet martinis to play card games and discuss politics and books and life. We'd take turns on the baby grand piano, and have movie nights again, and maybe I'd put up the pole in my bedroom and dance for my man sometimes...

I've been moved in for three months now, and have only just had someone over Sunday night for dinner. And it was lovely. But.

I look around now and the dream seems empty compared to the adventure of traveling, helping people, living simply enough to not be a slave to the military industrial complex. "Sicko" made me so sick I'd even seriously consider moving out of the country to a place that would value me, where I could contribute. To stay is to be complicit.

There's nothing holding me here. No pets, no love, no job I couldn't do from a laptop. I'd always dreamed of traveling with a boyfriend, but what the hell...I've never been in danger alone; if anything I've always had carte blanche from strangers. Even at the Marriot in San Diego last weekend, the staff volunteered extra care of me. The cute room service guy was so sad he woke me up early, I thought he was going to tuck me back into bed. People will always take me in.

I can write anywhere. I can fly into LA and stay with my sister to maintain friendships and connections and have meetings. When it's production time, we might be in Mexico or Northern California anyway. And within six months I'll be able to make studio-quality films anywhere with the Red camera and distribute online.

Hmmmn...Palm Springs, Pheonix, San Diego, South Carolina, Memphis, Portland, Glastonbury, Montreal...


I could go anywhere, do anything, be anybody.

Meet a great love who wants to be with me in a taxi cab, an elevator, or Marrakesh. Revered mutually.

Sublime.


Perchance to dream.


If you were free, what would you be?

My Queen, my wife, my love

J'adore 300. J'adore.

That relationship, the love between the king and the queen, so sacred..my ultimate desire.

The orgy of beautiful men's bodies. The inimitable Frank Miller. Hand to hand combat. Strategy. Comic book framing.

And not to be underestimated, the fetishizing of men's bodies, at last. So it won't be done for the first time in Pistoleras...but still, what will be new is that our heroines will be in baggy sweatshirts as they usurp the male gaze.

Why didn't I see 300 in Imax? Stupid, stupid, stupid.


Wow. Don't remember any training like that on Power Rangers.