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In an attempt to stay out of yesterday's fatal winds, Jim, Phineas and I took in a film at the newly rat-free Music Box. Said film, What Time is it There?, had its moments (including wordless clock-based public-bathroom homoerotica and some unexpected wicker-philia) and was overall sort of a collection of lovely, sad, romantic images, but on the whole I think it left the three of us a little undermoved.

It's still cold and unpleasant. Today: tea-drinking, book-reading, nap-taking.

Replies: 3 Confessions

wicker-philia. doesn't everyone have this?

heather @ 03/11/2002 09:50 AM CST


You're thinking "wicker-phobia." If everyone had the sort of wicker-philia portrayed in this film, well, let's just say we'd all have a lot more splinters.

amyc @ 03/11/2002 10:08 AM CST


ah. yes. of corpse. no one would ever think of rubbing the lawn furniture....over...and...over....the creaking and crackling filling your ears with the joy of wicker....yes...yes...yesss....

heather @ 03/11/2002 10:34 AM CST


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