Tempus non fugit...

Easily amused this morning. Read this post in one of my Latin lists and was much amused by the phrase "tempus tardus" or, as it should obviously really be spelled, "Tempus TARDIS". Seems to me there should be a story there. About Volcano Day in Pompeii, perhaps?

Normal rooms...

I got this from shrift - so cool! Pictures of people's rooms, all over the world, at Normal Room. It's like going for a walk in the evening in an residential area, where the lights are on and the curtains are open, and seeing what their rooms look like. Only with their permission, and everywhere.

The Good German...

commodorified and Alayne rescued me briefly from the viral-stricken fugue state I've been in and we went to a movie: The Good German. It was playing at the Bytowne, just down the street from where I work, and starting ten minutes after I left work. Perfect.

Not so perfect, I was still utterly tired. I did doze off briefly in the movie, but only briefly. The story: an American journalist in Berlin right after World War II tries to rescue the woman he loves, in an atmosphere of espionage and political mistrust, while she in turn is trying to rescue her husband. At least... I think that's it. The plot was actually so full of hidden agendas and mutual deceptions that it was in the end a little hard to figure out who was doing what to whom or why.

Visually, the movie is quite fascinating - done in overexposed black and white like an artistic exaggeration of footage of 1946. But there was something a little disappointing in the weakness of the plot, or the characters, or both: so much lack of trust between audience and film that there wasn't much emotional connection there. We all thought that the most accessible and realistic character was a minor one, the blonde whore, who really made an impression. Best acting was probably from Tobey Maguire, whom I don't really like, but he was superb as a scummy American black marketeer.

After the movie we went to The Highlander pub on Rideau Street. I chose it because it's near my bus stop but there are three reasons I like that pub, nothing to do with the food quality, which is good, especially their French fries. I feel I can now indulge, at least sometimes, in my love of chips - it's a Doctor Who fannish thing.

No. I like that pub because (1) the wait staff wears kilts, and I think kilts are the sexiest garments on earth; (2) because the walls are decorated with pictures of the Duke of Wellington, Napoleon, the Battle of Waterloo, and World War I; and (3) Because of its fannish name that brings to mind Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

I enjoyed the evening but it's incredible how tired I feel.