Thursday, May 26, 2005
I'm Published
Recieved my copy of The United States Hanggliding and Paragliding Magazine yesterday and I was one of the feature articles. Reading it, I realized that Hemingway was right, leave out all the adjectives! But, you can read the longer version of it here on the blog -- it's the second entry in December. I'm excited since it includes several photos and was originally writtten back in 1993 as a reminiscense. It was never really meant for publication.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Rewatching "The Cat People"
I've decided to start rewatching ancient movies that once captivated me, but that I've not watched in two decades or more (which mainly eliminates many of the well-known ones out on DVD.) Started last year with "The Masque of the Red Death" a long-time favorite from the 60's (my mother was a great lover of sci-fi and horror movies, both of them available in abundance at drive-in theaters where she regularly took her horde for entertainment.)
Yesterday it was the turn of "The Cat People" which I'd bought on video in the 80's but never really watched (had seen it years ago on the usual 0100 a.m. showing to which we were subjected in the 60's in the name of late night programming.) I had thought it was a little tame compared to many of the slash and gore movies out now, but there is something eerily sweet and sad about it. The girl is both the danger and the one standing in front of it -- trying to ward it off.
The plot, for you unfortunates: A young, foreign-born girl, working as a sketch-artist meets a ship engineer accidentally at the zoo where is she is fascinated by a black panther. They hit it off and he invites her to tea 'sometime,' she invites him to tea 'now.' They sit in her dark apartment and listen to the wild cats scream in the twilight. She tells him of her ancient village in Serbia where the people, during the dark ages, had turned to devil worship and the women had the power to turn into cats, when their passions overwhelmed them.
Of course you can see the whole thing coming. He courts her and they end up, reluctantly on her part because she feels her fate approaching her, wed. She refuses to kiss him or even bed him. He is tolerant and loving, but it palls after a while and he mentions it to a gal pal at work. His wife becomes jealous of their easy-going relationship and frightening things begin to happen. Cat-like screams are heard in the shadows, the female friend's robe is torn to ribbons as she swims in a basement pool, the wife disappears at odd moments. The husband tries to get her psychiatric help, but the psychiatrist, at first skeptical, is also very attracted to the danger of the wife and, finally, attempts to seduce her, to prove to her that her superstitions are wrong. You finish it.
The story is simple, but the lighting, the stark black and white imagery, the simplicity of the tale, and the way the legend itself parallels so much of what we feel about the female sexual drive. Sometimes "simple" lets your own imagination fill in the blanks. And, for it's time, it was a very straightforward tale about sex. Not so much a horror movie as an exploration of sexual danger and the unleashing of powerful female libidoes.
Yesterday it was the turn of "The Cat People" which I'd bought on video in the 80's but never really watched (had seen it years ago on the usual 0100 a.m. showing to which we were subjected in the 60's in the name of late night programming.) I had thought it was a little tame compared to many of the slash and gore movies out now, but there is something eerily sweet and sad about it. The girl is both the danger and the one standing in front of it -- trying to ward it off.
The plot, for you unfortunates: A young, foreign-born girl, working as a sketch-artist meets a ship engineer accidentally at the zoo where is she is fascinated by a black panther. They hit it off and he invites her to tea 'sometime,' she invites him to tea 'now.' They sit in her dark apartment and listen to the wild cats scream in the twilight. She tells him of her ancient village in Serbia where the people, during the dark ages, had turned to devil worship and the women had the power to turn into cats, when their passions overwhelmed them.
Of course you can see the whole thing coming. He courts her and they end up, reluctantly on her part because she feels her fate approaching her, wed. She refuses to kiss him or even bed him. He is tolerant and loving, but it palls after a while and he mentions it to a gal pal at work. His wife becomes jealous of their easy-going relationship and frightening things begin to happen. Cat-like screams are heard in the shadows, the female friend's robe is torn to ribbons as she swims in a basement pool, the wife disappears at odd moments. The husband tries to get her psychiatric help, but the psychiatrist, at first skeptical, is also very attracted to the danger of the wife and, finally, attempts to seduce her, to prove to her that her superstitions are wrong. You finish it.
The story is simple, but the lighting, the stark black and white imagery, the simplicity of the tale, and the way the legend itself parallels so much of what we feel about the female sexual drive. Sometimes "simple" lets your own imagination fill in the blanks. And, for it's time, it was a very straightforward tale about sex. Not so much a horror movie as an exploration of sexual danger and the unleashing of powerful female libidoes.
Driving and Clairvoyance -- my vent
Yeah, they don't actually occur together often in nature, which is one of my pet peeves. If I Knew what you were going to do ahead of time, all those turn signal, brake light, etc. thingies would be optional equipment. I would know that the little sign off to your right with "free beer" on it has just gotten your attention and that you're about to cross two lanes of traffic to intercept it. But, I'm not, and that's why you need to use the damned turn signal. It's actually a law. It's also just plain smart to signal the rest of the herd when you suddenly decide to veer, unless you are in a tank. (Breathe deep!) Okay, I'm done now.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Hanging On Gliding
Cool, I've got a link to Red Bull on the bottom of my blog! I love that stuff for it's kick-ass attitude and the fact that, of all the energy drinks, it's the least sweet and really does give me a little boost. My brother, the bull-rider, swears by it for the long hauls between rodeos, and I use it for distance driving and as a late night pick me up in the ED.
But, I really started out to talk about ' hanging on gliding,' when you are just glad to still have the basetube in your hands. It was blowing 15-20 all day, with gusts to 25-30, and I knew it was strong, but I have been so air-horny that it was like being a fresh HangvIII all over again. I waited around all day (instead of doing something useful like housework) and left the Man to lawncare, set up at 5pm anticipating the usual evening glass-off. It never materialized, at least not until after official sunset, when all good hanggliders, who don't want the FAA breathing down their necks, must be safely stowed on the ground. So, at 1715 I decided that I had flown in this shit before and I oculd handle it.
Yes, I had, and, yes, I could, but I couldn't make myself look graceful and I lured very few other pilots off the ramp after the rock 'n roll ride I had a few seconds after launch. Had a great 1 and 1/2 hour flight, but the gusts persisted and the thermals (still there when I came down to land at 1845) were over 800fpm up right off launch. Youch, got to test whether my shoulders are still up to that kind of stress.
P.S. The photo above is, actually, me in Austria.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Divorce Explanations
1) It was all my fault for being unfaithful. I'm a slut. (his)
2) It was his fault for deserting me after he had promised to help me raise my nephew. (not really my explanation, but it starts out this way some days. I try not to use this in front of people; it's too self-serving.)
3) We were tearing each other apart and two good people don't need to do that. (for public consumption)
4) He was destroying me by making me choose between me and 'the kid' as he labelled my nephew. But he knew about my commitment to family and that I had promised R a place to stay as long as he attended school, didn't break any major rules, and passed his classes. He didn't realize that when he said, "him or me," It meant him or my promises, my integrity, my vision of myself. (this is the one I claim most often in my silent arguments with him.)
5) We both got bored. (probably some truth here.)
6) Neither of us was good at discussing or even recognizing and naming our feelings, let alone discussing how two such misfits and independent people ever found anyone to marry them -- a couple of lone eagles better in a thermal than in a nest. (Getting closer to the heart of the problem)
7) Neither of us was willing to give up ourselves or self-image, even for the love of each other. And we did love each other. (Truth)
8) Selfishness. (oh, yes.)
2) It was his fault for deserting me after he had promised to help me raise my nephew. (not really my explanation, but it starts out this way some days. I try not to use this in front of people; it's too self-serving.)
3) We were tearing each other apart and two good people don't need to do that. (for public consumption)
4) He was destroying me by making me choose between me and 'the kid' as he labelled my nephew. But he knew about my commitment to family and that I had promised R a place to stay as long as he attended school, didn't break any major rules, and passed his classes. He didn't realize that when he said, "him or me," It meant him or my promises, my integrity, my vision of myself. (this is the one I claim most often in my silent arguments with him.)
5) We both got bored. (probably some truth here.)
6) Neither of us was good at discussing or even recognizing and naming our feelings, let alone discussing how two such misfits and independent people ever found anyone to marry them -- a couple of lone eagles better in a thermal than in a nest. (Getting closer to the heart of the problem)
7) Neither of us was willing to give up ourselves or self-image, even for the love of each other. And we did love each other. (Truth)
8) Selfishness. (oh, yes.)
Friday, April 29, 2005
Air-horny
I am air-horny. That 9 days in FL has made me hungry for more. Trouble is, the weather's just not cooperating. We're still in the throws of the vernal equinox which means the winds are too strong or (like yesterday) rotating through so rapidly that after a storm front, that the wind direction (crucial in mountain launch area, not so important in the flatlands) switches from SW to NE in a matter of half a day.
It is enchantingly green up here (we are still mid-spring in this part of GA, being on the mountain), from the bright spring greens of my oaks, to the deeper greens of my pines (those that have survived the pine-beetle thus far.) I feel enveloped in the color which I find soothing, but I want, oh-so-much, to be soaring over it, hanging above it. Being air horny is like just being horny -- you feel slightly on edge and wanting, wanting, something, to happen. But hang-waiting is a skill (I keep reminding myself, though self thinks this is nonsense) that I had to develope as a mountian pilot long ago. Provided I keep on living, there will be other days. It's just I want it now!
It is enchantingly green up here (we are still mid-spring in this part of GA, being on the mountain), from the bright spring greens of my oaks, to the deeper greens of my pines (those that have survived the pine-beetle thus far.) I feel enveloped in the color which I find soothing, but I want, oh-so-much, to be soaring over it, hanging above it. Being air horny is like just being horny -- you feel slightly on edge and wanting, wanting, something, to happen. But hang-waiting is a skill (I keep reminding myself, though self thinks this is nonsense) that I had to develope as a mountian pilot long ago. Provided I keep on living, there will be other days. It's just I want it now!
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Flying in Florida
Somehow, flying and BDSM don't mix in my head. One is in the sun and fresh air and, while physical, and sometimes sexual, it is more of a solitary sport, unless you just love chit-chat on the radio. (I don't.)
The comps last week were held in near-perfect weather. Except for the first two days when the winds were too strong, we had 6 days of valid flying. Saturday, the 23rd, we were closed down by rain and the death of a competitor. Chris Muller, a young Canadian aerobatics pilot was going for an object on the ground at finish (a 'goodies' bag put here as a challenge to those pilots who cared to skim that low) and dove right into the dirt at 60 mph. Made it to the hospital by helicopter, but didn't survive.
To someone outside the sport, it might seem stupid. It was, but, my feeling is we all make choices. Chris was an aerobatics pilot, loved taking those risks. I don't agree with his choices, but people think I'm crazy just flying hanggliders (never mind that I consider myself a conservative pilot.) So, I can't condemn him, just hate the waste of talent and a lifetime of flying. He made a mistake which cost him everything worthwhile in this world. But, his choices were what shaped his personality. If he didn't make those choices he wouldn't have been Chris Muller. I don't think that is a circular argument. I am more frightened of driving I-75 going into ATL at dusk, than I am of hanggliding. I've been sidewiped by a semi before, but I've never had anyone hit me in the air. We all take calculated risks, and we'd better be aware of the costs when we lose our gamble. Most people don't expect to die driving to the grocery store, but I'm always very aware of the chance of really hurting myself when I fly.
Aside from that, which didn't happen until the last day of the meet, I had some great flying days. Drove to Wallaby Ranch each day since Quest was so busy (0ver 100 pilots competing). Malcolm and staff did a wonderful job making me feel comfortable back on tow. The first day I went up tandem with Malcolm to see if I stil recalled my skills. He basically let me fly it from start to finish, then told me to stop wasting his time and go tow. Did three more that morning on their loaner Falcon, had great tows, watched hot-air balloons come into his field and land, then packed it up since my arms were tired. Next day I was back under tow on my own 142XC and had three good ones, saving the fourth tow until the afternoon so that I cold judge how i was doing in thermally air. Got up and soared for 35 minutes, felt happy with that and packed up for home ( Questairforce.com )
I stopped on the way when I noticed a cross-country pilot thermalling low about 6 miles from Wallaby. It was a bit out of the way for the comp pilots unless one of them had gotten lost, so I pulled over to watch. S/he didn't seem to be making much up, and, eventually, he landed by some cows. I waved and he came over to the gate where he took down his glider and we packed it on the truck before transporting him back to Wallaby. Turned out to be a visiting pilot from CO, in for a conference who had stolen off from Orlando for a day. We flew together the next day, too, after I had another midday flight that only lasted 40 min (the clouds cut off the thermals about 2p.) Craig and I, after lunch and a breather, towed back up at 1630 and managed to punch through the inversion layer (4500MSL) to 5600MSL for a lovely late afternoon flight with dozens of other pilots up toodling about.
Coming in on the last flight, the sunlight was golden through the inversion layer, scattered, and the thermals were light, the 100fpm stuff I prefer over the midday of >800fpm, the kind where you don't even hold onto the bar, just rest your foreams on the control frame and lazily loop in lift, watching all around you bathed in gold. Below me, over a swamp, a flock of ibises took off, something from an African movie, white against the dark green, far below me. Peaceful, and feeling like dessert to me.
Today it's raining in Georgia and I have to work tomorrow, but it might mellow in the evening Wednesday, and Thursday is looking good (I happen to be off then.) Flying is back on my agenda.
The results of the nationals and the pictures by the meet organizer can be seen at: http://www.flytec.com/flytec_usn_05/scores.html
The comps last week were held in near-perfect weather. Except for the first two days when the winds were too strong, we had 6 days of valid flying. Saturday, the 23rd, we were closed down by rain and the death of a competitor. Chris Muller, a young Canadian aerobatics pilot was going for an object on the ground at finish (a 'goodies' bag put here as a challenge to those pilots who cared to skim that low) and dove right into the dirt at 60 mph. Made it to the hospital by helicopter, but didn't survive.
To someone outside the sport, it might seem stupid. It was, but, my feeling is we all make choices. Chris was an aerobatics pilot, loved taking those risks. I don't agree with his choices, but people think I'm crazy just flying hanggliders (never mind that I consider myself a conservative pilot.) So, I can't condemn him, just hate the waste of talent and a lifetime of flying. He made a mistake which cost him everything worthwhile in this world. But, his choices were what shaped his personality. If he didn't make those choices he wouldn't have been Chris Muller. I don't think that is a circular argument. I am more frightened of driving I-75 going into ATL at dusk, than I am of hanggliding. I've been sidewiped by a semi before, but I've never had anyone hit me in the air. We all take calculated risks, and we'd better be aware of the costs when we lose our gamble. Most people don't expect to die driving to the grocery store, but I'm always very aware of the chance of really hurting myself when I fly.
Aside from that, which didn't happen until the last day of the meet, I had some great flying days. Drove to Wallaby Ranch each day since Quest was so busy (0ver 100 pilots competing). Malcolm and staff did a wonderful job making me feel comfortable back on tow. The first day I went up tandem with Malcolm to see if I stil recalled my skills. He basically let me fly it from start to finish, then told me to stop wasting his time and go tow. Did three more that morning on their loaner Falcon, had great tows, watched hot-air balloons come into his field and land, then packed it up since my arms were tired. Next day I was back under tow on my own 142XC and had three good ones, saving the fourth tow until the afternoon so that I cold judge how i was doing in thermally air. Got up and soared for 35 minutes, felt happy with that and packed up for home ( Questairforce.com )
I stopped on the way when I noticed a cross-country pilot thermalling low about 6 miles from Wallaby. It was a bit out of the way for the comp pilots unless one of them had gotten lost, so I pulled over to watch. S/he didn't seem to be making much up, and, eventually, he landed by some cows. I waved and he came over to the gate where he took down his glider and we packed it on the truck before transporting him back to Wallaby. Turned out to be a visiting pilot from CO, in for a conference who had stolen off from Orlando for a day. We flew together the next day, too, after I had another midday flight that only lasted 40 min (the clouds cut off the thermals about 2p.) Craig and I, after lunch and a breather, towed back up at 1630 and managed to punch through the inversion layer (4500MSL) to 5600MSL for a lovely late afternoon flight with dozens of other pilots up toodling about.
Coming in on the last flight, the sunlight was golden through the inversion layer, scattered, and the thermals were light, the 100fpm stuff I prefer over the midday of >800fpm, the kind where you don't even hold onto the bar, just rest your foreams on the control frame and lazily loop in lift, watching all around you bathed in gold. Below me, over a swamp, a flock of ibises took off, something from an African movie, white against the dark green, far below me. Peaceful, and feeling like dessert to me.
Today it's raining in Georgia and I have to work tomorrow, but it might mellow in the evening Wednesday, and Thursday is looking good (I happen to be off then.) Flying is back on my agenda.
The results of the nationals and the pictures by the meet organizer can be seen at: http://www.flytec.com/flytec_usn_05/scores.html
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Wallaby Ranch and Flying
Off to Wallaby Ranch, near Orlando, next Friday, for towing and flying and camping out and partying. There's a national competition being held at QuestAir, about 30 minutes from Wallaby (both towing hanggliding sites) and I'm going to drive for a friend who's competing for a spot on the Women's World Team. I don't want to compete, just refresh my towing skills and plan for nothing more than enjoying the sport in the sun. Anymore, life gets in the way of my hanggliding. www.wallaby.com
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Gardening and BDSM
What do they have in common? Not much you say (and I agree.) Just wanted to talk about both and it seemed an eye-grabber.
Am looking forward to Fantasm in Atlanta next week and have been busy making plans and sewing a new gown to wear with my purple vinyl corset (my favorite). I used to sew costumes for theatre, though my skills are rusty. Since becoming more openly fetishy, I've started trying to create the very clothes in which I most want to see myself, and they're not all in the Stormy Leather catalog. Some of the personas in my head are more male than female or ambiguous. My love is fine with his boy-girl, calls me "Orlando Bloom with tits," and teases me about "forced feminization of a female."
The garden is budding and the daffodils aren't deterred by our weather forecasts (it was snowing on the mountain as I drove to work this evening.) I go out every afternoon to pick up the mail and check to see the need sprouts on my pruned roses and fruit trees and impatiently await the passing of this string of fronts to plant my strawberries and my grown-from-seed tomatoes. My herbs are also sprouting and I've got a slew (or is that slough) of evergreens to plant to act as a screen from the disapproving eyes of my ex-husband. Two in the ground and ten more to go -- hope they grow as quickly as advertised. ;)
Am looking forward to Fantasm in Atlanta next week and have been busy making plans and sewing a new gown to wear with my purple vinyl corset (my favorite). I used to sew costumes for theatre, though my skills are rusty. Since becoming more openly fetishy, I've started trying to create the very clothes in which I most want to see myself, and they're not all in the Stormy Leather catalog. Some of the personas in my head are more male than female or ambiguous. My love is fine with his boy-girl, calls me "Orlando Bloom with tits," and teases me about "forced feminization of a female."
The garden is budding and the daffodils aren't deterred by our weather forecasts (it was snowing on the mountain as I drove to work this evening.) I go out every afternoon to pick up the mail and check to see the need sprouts on my pruned roses and fruit trees and impatiently await the passing of this string of fronts to plant my strawberries and my grown-from-seed tomatoes. My herbs are also sprouting and I've got a slew (or is that slough) of evergreens to plant to act as a screen from the disapproving eyes of my ex-husband. Two in the ground and ten more to go -- hope they grow as quickly as advertised. ;)
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