Monday, December 04, 2006
Great Uncle Ernest Gave Me The Bad Touch
Which is pretty impressive for a guy who's been dead for a couple years. On November 22nd, at about 2:50 am, I woke up out of a deep sleep to find my bed shaking back and forth, and it lasted about five seconds. I can wake up in the middle of the night and be absolutely terrified for no reason at all - thus is the nature of Sarah. Now, imagine my usual nocturnal paranoia coupled with the fact that I couldn't decide whether or not the bed shaking was part of a dream or an actual physical occurrence. My first thought was that it was an earthquake. My second thought had to do with gas line explosions. And since I'm way too into Ghosthunters, my third thought was about the painting my dad had just given me a few days before. He's been evicted (he has a room now and actually got a job, so everything's going okay) and he gave me some things to keep safe that he didn't want to put in storage. One of those things was a painting done by his Uncle Ernest. So there I was thinking that maybe Uncle Ernerst was bored with hanging around the painting and decided to wake me up and say hello. Honestly, if I wasn't rendered incapable of moving because of the fear, I would have woken my mother up and asked if I could sleep in her room.
Eventually I started hearing sirens off in the distance and after a while I went back to sleep. In the morning, this was all over the tv. A chemical plant in Danvers that manufactured inks and solvents blew the fuck up around 2:50 am. Right in the middle of a residential neighborhood. I saw the pictures and I expected total carnage, but amazingly, no one was killed. The plant was about 3 miles from my house but apparently people felt the blast as far away as New Hampshire. Here's a fun map: The red star is the Danversport Bakery, which was pretty much demolished. I'm not exactly sure where the plant was, but if you switch to the aerial shot I'm guessing it's one of the large white buildings immediately to the left of the bakery. I feel so bad for the people whose houses and businesses were damaged beyond repair, but at least no one died.
Thanksgiving was a typical Cameron family gathering: loud, with too much food and relentless teasing of my Uncle Bobby and my Aunty Jeannie. Which is exactly how it should be. My cousin Holly came with her son, Nick, who is now four and still as sweet and adorable as he was when I last saw him at age two. I didn't eat breakfast that day, so I grazed a bit too much on the shrimp and crackers and cheese and veggies and dip, so I barely ate any dinner. But two hours later, after picking up my father who usually comes over for dessert, I managed three small slices of pie and slice of cake. I love Thanksgiving.
Last Saturday, Tracy moved to Hopkinton with her boyfriend, Jeff. My little girl is all grown up. On Friday I went out there with her to a job interview in Framingham and then over to the new apartment for a tour and a little cleaning. As far as first apartments go, the place is aces in my book. It's on the first floor of an old Victorian house, two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. All the rooms are nice and big with ten-foot ceilings. There's a whole lot of decorating potential. I suppose I'll have to learn how to drive on the highway now so I can visit.
Oh, and I saw The Fountain over the weekend. I've never been so glad that I saw a movie alone because, seriously, the crying was embarrassing. And since I'm such a glutton for punishment I might go see it again before it leaves the theaters, which will have to be soon because it's really tanking at the box office.
Eventually I started hearing sirens off in the distance and after a while I went back to sleep. In the morning, this was all over the tv. A chemical plant in Danvers that manufactured inks and solvents blew the fuck up around 2:50 am. Right in the middle of a residential neighborhood. I saw the pictures and I expected total carnage, but amazingly, no one was killed. The plant was about 3 miles from my house but apparently people felt the blast as far away as New Hampshire. Here's a fun map: The red star is the Danversport Bakery, which was pretty much demolished. I'm not exactly sure where the plant was, but if you switch to the aerial shot I'm guessing it's one of the large white buildings immediately to the left of the bakery. I feel so bad for the people whose houses and businesses were damaged beyond repair, but at least no one died.
Thanksgiving was a typical Cameron family gathering: loud, with too much food and relentless teasing of my Uncle Bobby and my Aunty Jeannie. Which is exactly how it should be. My cousin Holly came with her son, Nick, who is now four and still as sweet and adorable as he was when I last saw him at age two. I didn't eat breakfast that day, so I grazed a bit too much on the shrimp and crackers and cheese and veggies and dip, so I barely ate any dinner. But two hours later, after picking up my father who usually comes over for dessert, I managed three small slices of pie and slice of cake. I love Thanksgiving.
Last Saturday, Tracy moved to Hopkinton with her boyfriend, Jeff. My little girl is all grown up. On Friday I went out there with her to a job interview in Framingham and then over to the new apartment for a tour and a little cleaning. As far as first apartments go, the place is aces in my book. It's on the first floor of an old Victorian house, two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. All the rooms are nice and big with ten-foot ceilings. There's a whole lot of decorating potential. I suppose I'll have to learn how to drive on the highway now so I can visit.
Oh, and I saw The Fountain over the weekend. I've never been so glad that I saw a movie alone because, seriously, the crying was embarrassing. And since I'm such a glutton for punishment I might go see it again before it leaves the theaters, which will have to be soon because it's really tanking at the box office.
Labels: Amatuer Film Critic Corner, Sarah's Paranoia
