There was a lot of hubbub in the pagan community due to the remake of the 1972 movie The Wicker Man. I hadn’t seen either movie until today and the remake will probably not be seen for two reasons: a) Nic Cage grates on my nerves and b) I’m not sure they really could do any better.
As much as there was an underlying campiness (Saruman/Dracula is head pagan guru! There are musical numbers!), I said to J mid-viewing that I couldn’t believe that it was made in the seventies. I recommend it highly. I had read much about it, but didn’t really have an idea about the ending. What really lifted my spirits is at the end an adult male virgin gets burned alive. As that happened, I sat up and said, “Wow. I think I really needed that just now.”
There are good days and there are bad days. Much to the determent of schoolwork, the bad days seem to have me flopping behind what I should be doing, lost in thought of what I could be doing.
I sometimes force J to play rummikub at midnight just because my sleep patterns haven’t been regular and the daydreams that chase me more than any nightmares could. J kept stewing on his tiles and I kept stewing in my mind. I’d asked him things and J would have this quaint ways of being very too the point.
“We thought so much alike; we clicked…” I said, needlessly clinking my tiles.
“But you didn’t click.”
“We did though!” I give a heavy melodramatic sigh.
His eyebrows clench together, “If you had…” He moves tiles, “He would have forgiven you.” He sets down a set of three. “Ah! There’s a set!”
“Bah. You and your logic. ”
“Just play the game.”
Aside from being more to the point than I can be given my bias, J chides me for my hope. “That last email didn’t really allow for, um, a happy ending.”
“Yeah, well.” I sigh. “That’s baseball.”