By Rudyard Kipling
Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,
And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o’er the combers, looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow;
Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!
The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee,
Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.
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Adam is home for a few days for spring break! I spent the morning finishing a review of Voyager's exceptional Holocaust allegory "Remember" and doing chores, plus watching a Bones episode while we ate lunch. Our friend who is staying with our cats while we're out of town came over so we could show her where we now keep the food hidden from the kittens who try to steal it. Then we went to get Adam, got stuck in rush hour traffic, and had California Tortilla for dinner.
We missed the beginning of Sleepy Hollow and we just finished watching The Zero Theorem, which ranks pretty high on my list of Terry Gilliam movies though the women's roles are total crap. I'm not entirely sure whether it's a metaphor for how much of our lives are virtual reality or whether it suggests that we devote ourselves to virtual reality, even religion, because our lives are meaningless lies, but it's visually spectacular and quite funny either way. National Zoo seals:
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