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Wednesday, May 14, 2003 Got myself up this morning, made the long stumble from one end of the piso to the other for the usual a.m. bathroom blahblahblah. All through the shower/shave routine, an odd odor hung in the air, faint enough that it didn't get my full attention, but odd enough that it hovered persistently around the edges, if you know what I mean. Not completely penetrating the a.m. fog, but not going away either. And not one of the usual spectrum of possible bathroom odors so that my little brain, not yet working on all cylinders, didn't really know what to make of it. And given that my cerebral command center needed to concentrate on safe razor management so that I didn't shed blood in a terminal way, it satisfied itself with the occasional blurry "What the...?" whenever I'd catch an especially strong whiff. (Now isn't that a strange word? "Whiff." What's with the two f's? And why the h? Why not just "wif"? It would be so much simpler for someone struggling with the overabundant mysteries of English spelling. Plus, the shorter spelling gives it a way younger, more hip-hop kinda feel, as in, "Whoa, get a wif a' dat!!" ) When I finally shuffled from the bathroom into the kitchen -- scrubbed, shaven, groomed, all that -- I found myself enveloped by a seriously intensified version of the odor, to the point where my eyes popped open, my nose wrinkled up. Impossible to ignore any longer. The next-door kitchen abuts mine -- I heard noise of someone working away, kitchen-fashion, I realized I was smelling meat. The thick, concentrated aroma of a big chunk of animal, well into the roasting process. I didn't know whether to start salivating/masticating reflexively or begin reverse peristalsis, the hour not being the kind I'm accustomed to for that brand of sensory overwhelment. I don't remember ever being met with that degree of sensorama-like impact first thing in the morning here, apart from maybe Christmas or New Years, and those instances just didn't pack the punch of today's flesh fiesta. Tomorrow's another local holiday -- the feast of San Isidro, one of Madrid's patron saints. I figure that might have something to do with the meat thing. A dinner this evening maybe, or tomorrow. Or something. So, yeah, another holiday. A lot of the city will be shut down. Meaning loads of partying tonight. (As if they need an excuse to party. Not that there's anything wrong with that.) The thought of which has me in a skipping-school frame of mind. If I knew someone with a car who might be temptable, I'd be on the horn trying to get them to bail out of work and drive me to some beautiful, less urban spot, take advantage of the run of spectacular May weather Madrid's been having. But I don't know anyone temptable in that way. (*Sob!*) So I'll write. And eat. And finish schoolwork for class tonight. And get out and enjoy the day. And maybe at some point finish up with The Man Who Wasn't There, which I rented yesterday, started watching late last night and couldn't pull myself away from until it was way later than I'd intended to go to bed. (I heard lots of people complain about that film, the majority gripe being "too slow." I've got to say: Slow? I don't know -- it tells the story in its own way, and I'm finding it almost hypnotic. Visually beautiful, with great acting. Yeah, it's an eccentric story, but what do you want? We're talking about the Coen brothers, perpetrators of one of the weirdest -- and one of my favorite -- comedies ever, Raising Arizona. And in spite of what feels to me like a major, glaring flaw in the story line, which I won't specify in case you haven't seen the film, I found myself swept away in the bugger. Completely wrapped up in it. I will admit, though, that it's a pretty dark hummer of a story, and I could see that, in combination with the pacing, bothering someone.) Another film seen recently: La Caja 507 (Box 507). Spanish, from last year. A tight, sharp thriller, with two extremely fine actors in the leading roles. It's not likely it'll make its way to the States, but if you spot it on VHS or DVD, rent it. Be aware, though, that the second half gets violent, with a substantial body count. If you'd rather just see a great thriller, with top-notch acting and a great story line that packs a bunch of unexpected twists, rent the Argentinian film Nine Queens. Don't let the language barrier put you off -- you can't lose with this one. Enough with the reviews. Time for a bit of chow. Later. rws 12:33 PM [+]
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