Concert Day

The walls are thin. Somebody unpacked into the wee hours last night, just a few feet from my head where I lay trying to get some sleep. It's bad when you can hear every creak, every suitcase zipper, from the other apartment. One of these boys is pretty heavy on his feet, lots of clumping around going on over there. Huge party last night somewhere, perhaps like a pep rally in the fields? Not sure. But hundreds were whooping and singing and chanting and cheering. I had to close the windows in order to hear the tv.

Caught part of a movie on Bravo called Strip Search that was very interesting. Glenn Close was in it. I wished I had caught the whole thing from the beginning, maybe it'll be on again. Basically there were two scenes playing out at the same time. In one an American woman was being interrogated in a Chinese prison or someplace foreign like that where people's rights are not huge and you can go missing. In the other Glenn Close was an American agent interrogating a suspected male Al-Qaeda terrorist. It was especially interesting because both scenes had the same lines. Glenn Close ordered him to take his clothes off, she was going to do a full cavity search . . . and then the scene switched with the interrogator in Bangkok or wherever saying the same lines and the American woman responding with the same lines as the suspect with Glenn Close.

What an effective juxtaposition! The outrage at a white woman being treated this way, the inhumanity of it all, the terrible loss of rights and freedoms, the terror of being her, the humiliation of the search. Meanwhile, the American government does the exact same thing . . . and that's okay? The only difference in the scenes comes right at the end -- after a long interrogation and search, when shown pictures of men (terrorists) and asked once again whether they know them, the woman caves and admits she does, the man insists he doesn't. Both interrogators announce that their job is done and someone else will be in to talk with them. The male interrogator is congratulated for breaking the woman, getting a confession, while we watch her freaking out in the room, knocking over furniture and breaking chairs in anger. In the American scene, Glenn Close walks toward an elevator unsuccessful in her interrogation. She pauses in the hall for a second as we hear the suspected terrorist screaming from being tortured . . . and then she continues, gets on the elevator and leaves. A narrator asks how long you'd be willing to give up your rights and freedoms to end terrorism, an hour? a day? a week? a month? a year? . . . forever? Words on the screen tell how many people were confined and interrogated after 9-11 without due process. Overall, very effective I thought.

Later I caught the last of Best in Show on CBC and laughed my guts out again. I thought I was going to die again, when Parker Posey is looking for the bumblebee squeak toy. Cracks me up everytime. I should get this dvd.

So, today is the day and it's beautiful outside! Blue as far as the eye can see, warm temps already. The Hip is blaring. My freaking out has calmed somewhat, I'm starting to go into rock chill mode . . . gonna be a long road into Moncton methinks, needing lots of patience. You'll not hear from me again until I'm back and it's done. I'll have a fabulous time for sure. Catch ya later!

Mood: waking up slowly
Drinking: coffee with cream
Listening To: The Tragically Hip, New Orleans is Sinking
Hair: bed messy