the unexpected utility of Buster Keaton
Jan. 1st, 2014 08:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jinianHappy New Year.
I talked to the universe last night about what I want from the coming year. It's not a topic I can reproduce here, because one of the few superstitions from my childhood that I really believe in is that talking about uncertain good things jinxes them. I managed to articulate it, though, in the time just after midnight. I was listening to my local indie music station, which had finally gotten to curate the fireworks display music to excellent effect, and I'd been laughing about trying to stream footage of the very foggy fireworks (since my TV doesn't work with broadcast any more) and failing. There were some hilarious stills of BIG GLOWING BLOBS on the Seattle Times webcam, which also inexplicably gave me images of daytime and 8pm when refreshed. Gin and Limonata may also have helped my eloquence along.
The great thing about the jinx worry, though, is that in person I now have developed a way around it. See, we have this mask-on-a-stick of Buster Keaton from the SIFF movie marathon a while back, and he is so very solemn that somehow it's entirely logical for me to be able to say the unsayable if I hold him up to my face. If any jinx should fall, well, his movies are such that a jinx would actually help, or even be required by the laws of time travel to achieve those effects. And it would certainly go to the movie roles rather than to him personally, because the picture is black and white. My plan is flawless.
Thus I inform you: wishes exist, and I have managed to talk about them with Wim and to the universe both. May we all get what we hope for this year.
I talked to the universe last night about what I want from the coming year. It's not a topic I can reproduce here, because one of the few superstitions from my childhood that I really believe in is that talking about uncertain good things jinxes them. I managed to articulate it, though, in the time just after midnight. I was listening to my local indie music station, which had finally gotten to curate the fireworks display music to excellent effect, and I'd been laughing about trying to stream footage of the very foggy fireworks (since my TV doesn't work with broadcast any more) and failing. There were some hilarious stills of BIG GLOWING BLOBS on the Seattle Times webcam, which also inexplicably gave me images of daytime and 8pm when refreshed. Gin and Limonata may also have helped my eloquence along.
The great thing about the jinx worry, though, is that in person I now have developed a way around it. See, we have this mask-on-a-stick of Buster Keaton from the SIFF movie marathon a while back, and he is so very solemn that somehow it's entirely logical for me to be able to say the unsayable if I hold him up to my face. If any jinx should fall, well, his movies are such that a jinx would actually help, or even be required by the laws of time travel to achieve those effects. And it would certainly go to the movie roles rather than to him personally, because the picture is black and white. My plan is flawless.
Thus I inform you: wishes exist, and I have managed to talk about them with Wim and to the universe both. May we all get what we hope for this year.
