Casablan probably looks just plain insane to most people, but then, it's old, plus it's foriegn. So it has excuses. Episode II? No. No excuse for that abomination. Oh, and Casablan is not Casablanca, a really old, cheesy romance set in Africa. No, it's an Israeli musical set in a poor neighborhood of Jaffa and starring Yehoram Gaon the singer. The dancing is laughable by a modern standard- it was made in the sixties or seventies, about the same time and style as Grease- but if you can set aside your sense of the ridiculous dances it's actually pretty cool. I love the music. Yehoram Gaon is a great singer, and most of the songs are just plain fun. It is also subtitled, which makes me so glad I can understand Hebrew, because they screw up every other line. A big part of this is that they try to make the songs rhyme in English, too, which is futile, but then when they don't seem to know what's going on with the spoken dialogue it's just doof. Even when they're halfway right, the charm and witticism of the lines is almost always lost completely. Sometimes I think that they're just trying to make it more appropriate, because "the policeman is at Esther's house and now he has an illigitimate son" is translated as "the law is slow and we don't know why." But then they translate "Jew from Eastern Europe" to "White-assed Frenchman." So there goes that theory. *sighs* And Yanush so creeps me out. Yes I know he's supposed to, but... argh! Why is only one character seeing through him? Creepy! Creepy creepy creepy!!! *runs in circles*
Some nice quotes off the top of my head:
"I'm shaking in my boots, Mr. Goulash." --Casablan
"We ought to break your heads!" *repeat after every single line for the rest of the scene* --Guy whose name I really ought to remember
Mietek: Are we a democracy or aren't we?
Mariuma: Of course we're a democracy! *turns to Moshiko and says softly* What's a democracy?
Moshiko: In a democracy, everybody does whatever he wants.
Mariuma: It's good, this democracy idea!
Mietek: *laughing* In a democracy, you vote. Okay, everybody who wants to move to the other project, raise your hand. *everybody raises their hands* I count 48.
"White-assed Frenchman": 48 for me.
Mietek: Okay, now everybody who wants to stay here and make renovations, raise your hand. *everybody raises their hands except for Yanush, Arieh, and the other goon, who really doesn't need a name*
Guy Who Wanted To Break Everybody's Head: You, put your hands up or I break them! *they do*
"White-assed Frenchman": 48 for me too.
Mietek: Forty-eight say go, forty-eight say stay! What now?
Mariuma: That's a democracy!
*everybody sings about democracy. The lyrics are mainly "demo, demo, democratia." Mariuma shimmies. Ancient Yemenite guy goes crazy, dances like a madman, and falls over. Random girls do ballet and then all make Guy Who Wants To Break People's Heads shut up, because he's now singing about knives. Moshiko kisses Madame Butterfly on the cheek and Mariuma drags him away to dance with her. "White-assed Frenchman" sings about the perils of having a wife with more political savvy than you. Random little kids run around, then everyone runs around for the last "demo, demo, democratia" until a giant invisible bell goes GONG and Yanush wanders off to stalk Rachel some more.*
There are four different accents being spoken in my kitchen right now. I sat and listened, quite fascinated, to stories of the past, until I was banished from the kitchen to write about P&P. So I'm just listening to Kaveret and petting Tessie and trying to come up with a good idea.
P&P's a lot like a Silm in that the reader's imagination is what's really needed to like that book. You have to fill in all the gaps yourself- *Tessie leaps down* Oh, phooey. My pants are now gray. Good thing my shirt was already gray. It's my Paul!shirt, meaning it's plain-looking and solid-colored except for a stripe across the front.
I reprinted the pages of my M-S monologue that Ms. Huntley wrote on, so now I have a nice copy of it again. I will write the rest soon. But first I need to get cracking on the fic exchange. My options are:
a.) Aragorn's Adventures as a Ranger
b.) The Adventures of the El-Twins just before FotR
c.) Something Sam/Rosie, set at anytime
d.) Something Eowyn/Faramir, set at anytime
No easy options there. I'd have a really hard time doing justice to any of the characters there. Unless I do something humor. Oh wait. I'm not funny. *snaps fingers*
Any nice muse out there feel like giving me a hand here? Thalia? Melpomene? Calliope?
...what others are there? Oo! I would definitely appreciate it if Eiji would pay a visit. Mrrrrrowr. I mean, yes. *cough* Inspiration.
Er... should probably be asking for inspiration on this essay first, yes? Yes. *burns nice offering*
*Is too busy staring at pretty burny fire to ask for help*
...Darn. There goes that bright idea.
"..yesh shir she ani katavti la kelev sheli, poka..." *everybody cheers madly*
My parents and Paul and Liora tell interesting stories. Like... immoral French females on their kibbutz, or the Captain standing in front of them in the phone booth reporting to a superior officer that the Yom Kippur War had started, or the way Paul would walk around with his crazy hair and a bandanna and an apron (an apron?) or the way Paul and Liora met when they were assigned to milk cows together on the kibbutz, and they kept insisting that yeah, they worked together, but at the time they weren't a couple or anything, and Eema and Aba would just say things like "and the two of you would eat together every day..." and they would protest, and I just snicker inwardly and think of Caitlin going "...my mother 2.0" and just thinking how weird the coincidences were. And then I forgot my own name. *doof*
See, Micali called, and asked what was new, and I'm like "well, Mical and Paul are here." and she's like "the name is the same as yours! And you forget it! Hahaha!" And I was like "...yyyeah."
I'm trying to figure out where this wristy-dance came from, because I doubt I would have made it up, but I can't think of anywhere it might have.
I'm remembering dance at Interlochen, and the way you could open the door and look out to the lake, or if you were in the Penthouse, the squirrels like black ribbons unfurling in the breeze. Jeremy's CD is sitting in front of me to remind me of his music. Man. Nasta music rules. The CD is nowhere near as wonderful as just hearing him improvise and yell and stuff. Heyyyy, heya weya hey...
John's aunt. ODE. ODE, ODE, ODE. What is wrong with my brain? It's terrible, really it is.
Lodlo da, lodlo da, kela lodlo da, kela lodlo da, ela lodlo da...
Mara Jade is such a pretty name. *adds another scrunchie to her hair*
I'm cold. *mrrs*
Eema promised me the POTC DVD if I finished before twelve-thirty, though, which is cool. Unfortunately, that's in an hour and a half, and I have no idea what to write about.
I wish Tamari were here. She could help me come up with something, I know.
Argh. I'm getting a headache now. *takes all the scrunchies and clips out of her hair and lets it down* Alright hair, eat all you want now. *Strokes it carefully* Man. I need to wash it. Really I do. K'mo kash!
My lower back is in *pain* from moving the stupid heavy table. Why do we have a table so heavy? When I grow up, my furniture is going to be light.
I think I'm going to build myself a Snyder Tower in Alaska. That would be nice. I will leave one level empty, for dancing, and then I will never have this problem.
John told me that he dances when nobody can see him. Nice to know. So do I. But you all knew that, and probably nobody's ever surprised when they learn that of me, because it's something I would do. I occasionally dance when people are watching, but not the same way I do when nobody is. I try to look semi-not-stupid when people are there. If not? Heh, move the furniture and hide under the table, cat, Leora's on the dance floor and she's cartwheeling, imitating Dance Cuba, Eyal, America, Chelsea, Tevye, Caitlin, Happendance, and every other cool dance she's ever seen, whirling and twirling and throwing her arms in the air, skirts swishing, kicking and falling and rolling and fencing with imaginary opponents, ki'ing until the house shakes, singing at the top of her lungs in every octave and language she can manage. Sometimes I just run in frantic circles until I fall over. 'S good exercise.
Hey, Yo Ya!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Ha'im ze fair!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Atem lo yodim!
I love Kaveret. Their music is simply such, such fun. Yay.
I got another letter from Oren! He says happy Pesach, and also attached a picture of himself with a crocodile. I'll post it in a little bit. He's the one with the floppy hat, holding the sign, smiling at the camera- not the one petting the crocodile.
Oolai tasim li ksat sucar betoch hateh is starting now. Heh. I'm sure you all remember that song.
Apparently, "redundant" in England means "obsolete," not "repetitive." Interesting to know. Liora suggested that I take Paul in to BritLit for show-and-tell. Paul suggested that the word "BritLit" sounded like some sort of disease. *snerksnerksnerk*
And now Marchaimshlutzky (Marshlutzky for short) and his friend from Kaveret are making up nonsense and being generally crazy. It's fun.