Never, ever wear your big backpack into a crowded bead store with lots of jars of beads stacked in tiny aisles. I’m just sayin’.

Tonight (Wednesday, actually) the Snook and I went to the Opera House to see Voices of Light: The Passion of Joan of Arc. It was fantastic. The film is a 1928 French masterpiece about Joan’s trial and execution. Composer Richard Einhorn wrote a full score (symphony and choral) that was performed live as the film ran. I can’t even begin to describe how amazing this film was. I had to keep reminding myself that it was from the 1920’s. The plot is really simple and straightforward, and there aren’t a lot of dialogue cards. Mostly you see faces – Joan, her judges, the priests, the people. But mostly just her. I can’t imagine what the actress went through to give that performance. If you ever get the chance to see it, I really, really recommend it. (Ebert loved it too and mentions a lot of interesting stuff I didn’t know about it.)

It’s 12:30 am here and Andy Roddick’s tennis match is still going on. I don’t know if I can watch much more of it. It’s just too tense. Plus he looks so much like my brother that I find myself getting emotionally over-invested. It’s weird.

Half an hour later: Holy crap. Hooray for Roddick! Obviously he was just waiting for me to blog the match before he won it. How tense was that? Not even the Snook’s sudden discovery that his vat of beer leaked five liters in the cupboard under the stairs could tear me away.

Sorry for the lack of posts. I haven’t had much surf-time in the last few days. Tonight my friend Sharon and I went to see Bowling for Columbine. The experience reminded me of seeing Wag the Dog when I was in London. It’s just weird to sit in a theater and listen to people from another country laugh at the United States. It’s like when somebody else mocks your family. You know them, you know their faults, but it still smarts to hear it from someone else. That’s how I felt. When Charlton Heston postulated that America’s violent tendencies were due to our “greater mixing of ethnicities” there was an audible gasp and chuckle throughout the audience. Australia has racial tension, but they’re still light-years ahead of us in terms of multiculturalism.

Anyway, yeah, I thought it was good but felt that Moore went on for too long. He should’ve stuck to the personal level instead of trying to relate it to our government. It felt like he was reaching. I just don’t think the Columbine killers were much influenced (whether consciously or not) by the war in Kosovo. And how about Charlton Heston and Dick Clark? How could you go on camera and then behave like that, knowing everyone in the world’s going to see it? Sure, the Kmart thing was a PR stunt, but at least they reached the right conclusion in the end. I couldn’t believe Dick Clark just slammed the door and drove off. I am hereby boycotting his “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve”.

Oh, and for, like, the fifth time, I was forced to admit that Marilyn Manson is really smart and articulate and cool. Too bad I can’t stand his music.

An important relationship milestone has been reached. The Snook and I are now using the same tube of toothpaste.

The first time Ma Snook visited our new place, she said, “Oh, you’re near the bead store!” Evidently the premiere bead store in, like, all of Australia is located just a few blocks down Enmore Road. So for those of you keeping track, I’m within walking distance of a wool shop, a ribbon shop, a button shop (“What do Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge, Ewan MacGregor in Star Wars, and Bananas in Pyjamas have in common? They all wear buttons from All Buttons Great And Small!!”), and a bead shop. It’s crafty heaven.

Anyway, today I finally dragged the Snook down to this allegedly amazing bead store. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint! I only wanted some chunky wooden beads for my funky knitted hat, but I ended up walking round and round in amazement at all the shiny pretty things. I know I’ve just been going insane with all the crafting lately, but I really am going to have to take a jewelry-making class there. It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up.

Discussion time. Okay, so Australia are currently playing the Sri Lankans in a series of one-day cricket matches. Earlier this week one of the Aussie players was reprimanded for yelling a racial slur after he got out. I was curious to know what he said, since none of the media dared to repeat it. Finally today I found an article that revealed the mystery phrase: “black c***”. (The censored bit – for those of you too slow to play along – is everyone’s favorite crude slang term for female genitalia.)

So here’s what I don’t get: cricketers use that term – the “c” word – all the time. You can’t hear it, but you can clearly see them mouthing it at one another. (Shane Warne is a particularly bad offender.) Why does the addition of “black” make it racist? Is it now racist just to call somebody black? (Yes, I agree that it was definitely being used in a negative sense in this case. I just find it odd because there are so many worse things he could’ve said.) Also, why isn’t anybody labeling it as sexist? Just because he directed it at another man?

It’s just funny to think that this entire brouhaha erupted over one guy calling another guy a color and a part of a woman’s anatomy. Such silliness.

It’s not April 1 yet, is it? According to the Herald, a French yacht taking place in the Jules Verne round-the-world sailing competition was attacked by a giant squid. I fully expect them to run a story tomorrow on cannon-propelled rocket to the moon.

Waaaaait just a minute. Willow is marrying Wesley? That’s just too weird. (Link courtesy of Kim.)