So I am recently back from The Last Samurai, which is pretty fucking remarkable, as usually all the Asians die so that only a white man is left to tell the tale. Now, this is not to say that the movie is an irredeemable mess: nothing wrong with some bloody battling, as long as it's stage-blood. But does the Emperor really hafta be an effeminate mess with unattractive facial hair? I mean, I was wedged between the usual Latino streeters and a trio of Jap-os, so my viewing experience was strange--the nips giggling at mud being trailed into the room by gawkward white boots, and the Latinos laughing at the Emperor, who was the more laughable for trying to be forcible. Somehow the famous last-berating scene has a gay reading--short white imperializer-turned-good convinces gaysian to end his flirtation with Western guns and heavy artillery... And all this misses the point, as it's as anti-historical as Gladiator, sort of neglecting the tiger of Japanese imperialism unleashed upon the entire continent.

The lead-in to my evening was pleasant, as I wandered bujii Manhattan with Joephet. Which wasn't so bad, really, though sticker-shock dogged me. I had no idea people could spend so much money on this shit. But Joephet was amused, and that was enough for me. I think he finally got enough sleep, and so wasn't all bitchy, as he can sometimes be. Or maybe I was just nicer to him. Hard to tell.

My bro was in today briefly for some Greek food before taking off again. Home again, home again, diddly dee. A good chunk of work yet left, and no blankets or other good-warmness bought, but so it goes.