A Face That Looks of Love Lost

Heading into the three-day weekend, I realize that I have made no plans whatsoever. To be quite honest, I keep forgetting that there are THREE WHOLE DAYS of freedom spread out before me, just begging me to lay waste to each one over the dulled blade of slothfulness.

So, I have made a List:
1) Go ice skating.
2) Admit I’m a sadomasochist. See 1.
3) Begin packing my bedroom.
4) Get a haircut, ya hippy!
5) Read Matheson’s I Am Legend cover-to-cover.
6) Watch a crazy-large number of episodes of Prison Break, Season 1.
7) Drink red wine in generous quantities. 7.5)Guilt-free.
8) Don’t lie when you report on your List progress on Tuesday.

I have an idea about why I forgot about this weekend: I had fantastic plans last night, which overshadowed all others. I and a few friends are apparently making a coldest-day-of-winter tradition out of Redmoon theater productions. Last night included a warm belly full of Italian food from Oggi Trattoria before an incredible recreation of Victor Hugo’s Hunchback. The food was mediocre but the company and entertainment excellent. The Redmoon cast used puppets, shadows, actors, and masks to retell the story; Hugo even made an appearance to offer commentary and clear up a few details. The show was extended to February, so I recommend you go – there’s no better way to spend a cold winter’s night than in the heart of 1482 Paris in all of its diseased and dirty wonder. I’m embarrassed to admit that I wasn’t at all familiar with the plot, never having read the story. In this age of Disney abominations – replete with a Happy Ending for all - the story of ghastly characters and a tragic ending was oddly refreshing. So, Hunchback is now on the List To Do Before I Die By Hanging. Because that’s how Hugo would have it.

And since it’s Friday, I have an interesting discussion to share. Not the inaccurate and confusing news story itself, but the implications of our decision to communicate…or keep quiet (and therefore alive, just long enough for us to destroy ourselves).

"The Emissions Thing"

Everyone loves to gang up on Texas (in the absence of Texans), but I couldn't help pulling this quote from a climate story from yesterday. Apparently, if Texas were its own country (it isn't?), it would be the seventh-worst carbon emitter on the planet. This makes it the dirtiest state in the US.

My favorite part: Debbie Howden, an Austin real estate agent, said her family of six has two pickup trucks, three SUVs, and no apologies. "I would definitely put size and safety over THE EMISSIONS THING," said Howden, 55. She calls their high fuel bills a "necessary evil."

[Emphasis my own, but hardly necessary.]

This everything-is-bigger-including-our-ignorance mentality was a contributing factor to my decision NOT to move to Corpus Christi last fall. Yes, it was at first difficult: There was the lure of a plush aquarium job, sandy beaches, sea turtles/dolphins/otters (each earns a collective aww), and the Gulf of Mexico out my kitchen window.

But, there were also sooo many Texans.