Friday, October 24, 2003

little red

Yesterday, Nikki bought Sage her Halloween costume – Hellgirl.

Yes, come Samhain Eve, my little daughter will be going around the building with her orange pumpkin candy bucket dressed in cute little horns, bowtie and tail.

Excitedly, we showed Sage the elements of her attire and let her wear them. The result? A devilish grin (she loves to dress up) and a trip to the big mirror to take a look at her makeover.

Of course Diovine, her devout Christian nanny, was appalled at the thought of Sage as the Devil (or at least a diabolic minion), and about having to accompany the child on a pagan holiday, but she took it in good grace. Though not before asking Nikki if the store didn’t have an angel costume in stock.

Well, if we wanted Sage to look like an angel, it would take a pair of old flight goggles and not wings to complete her ensemble – because to me, when you say angel, you mean Angel.

batangas denied

Some of the guys are going over to Batangas to look at the sights (to get some references for Project One Hundred) and to spend the night at the beach.

Naturally, I declined the proffered invitation because a night spent on the beach lacks any pull on my mind. Unless I’m guaranteed a bed and running water in a bug-free room (an internet connection would be a big plus).

I guess some of us are truly not meant for roughing it. A definite sign that the concept of cities and comfort has overrun whatever ancient impulses we once had. Where before, as in Umberto Eco’s wonderful Baudolino, the reality of cities like Paris was an exercise in the description of winding shit-filled streets, today’s cities provide much better amenities. Sleeping like armies in tents next to a river or on a plain may hold appeal to some, but I’d rather read about experiences like that, living vicariously, instead of suffering the torment of wet sand and pointed stones.

Of course, to rough it up means precisely not to have comforts, and I understand that. But really, if the goal is to have meaningful conversations while looking at the stars with a beer in hand, I can do that in the comfort of a rooftop penthouse while soaking in a jacuzzi.

However (and this is where hypocrisy sets in), if the place offered is on a Greek island or somesuch, equations and rationalizations change, and I’m willing to go.

Sad but true.


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