Hannibal is one of the most beautifully shot shows that I have ever watched. Every scene, every sound, engages you. The shots of the food, and the cooking of the food, is absolutely beautiful. Mouth watering. But just under the surface of that beauty is the horror. The food. I have never been so hungry and so revolted at the same time over the same thing. All the food and the preparation of the food is lovely, it makes you hungry and fills you with desire that isn’t exactly….good. You want to find the ingredients and cook that meal just so that you can enjoy it yourself. Until you realize that there is not one piece of food in that show that does not have an underlying meaning, and it is never good. It is either used to subjugate someone, or feed someone to someone else. It is used as a tool and a weapon, to great effect. This show has managed to physically revolt me to the point that I felt like I was going to throw up before it was over. And I’m not talking about the typical shock and horror that a show about serial killers and cannibals can do. (Although those have sometimes managed to affect even me, someone who used to work in a haunted house and knows just how all those gruesome special effects are created.) No, it’s the scenes of food being lovingly prepared and “lovingly” fed to people that Hannibal “cares” about. For me, food is a very sensual, very wonderful thing. To feed someone a good meal is to show them just how much you care about them. Treating yourself to a good meal is one of the greatest things you can do for yourself. To watch that perverted is horrifying. It is very rare that a show repulses me, while still managing to engage me and make me want to watch it every week. I can say that before Hannibal, it’s never happened. It is so good, visceral and over the top that I am shocked that not only did it make it through the entire first season, but was approved for a second season before the first season was even over. It is not a series that I can recommend. I can guarantee that you will be repulsed and horrified. You also may not be able to stay away from it.
He waited until the train was in motion to make his move—a true sign of someone who knows how to make the environment work to their advantage. Then he leaned forward. “Hi.” “How you doing?” “What are you reading?” “What’s your name?” “I really like your hair.” “That’s a really nice skirt.” “You must work out.”
It was painful to watch. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and he clearly wasn’t going to take the hint. Her rebukes got firmer. “I’d like to read my book.” And he pulled out the social pressure. “Hey, I’m just asking you a question. You don’t have to be so rude.” She started to look around for outs. Her head swiveled from one exit to another.
The thing was, I had already heard this story, many many times. I knew how it would play out. I knew all the tropes. I probably could have quoted the lines before they said them. I wanted a new narrative. Time to mix it up.
So I moved seats until I was sitting behind him. I leaned forward with my head on the back of his seat.
"Hi," I said with a little smile.
He looked at me like I was a little crazy—which isn’t exactly untrue—and turned back to her.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m fine," he said flatly without ever looking back.
"I really like your hair," I said. “It looks soft."
That’s about when it got…..weird.
He sort of half turned and glared back me, and I could tell I was pissing him off. His eyes told me to back the hell away, and his lips were pressed together tightly enough to drain the color from them completely.
But no good story ever ends with the conflict just defusing. He started to turn back to her.
"Wait, don’t be like that," I said. “Lemmie just ask you one question…"
"What!" he said in that you-have-clearly-gone-too-far voice that is part of the freshmen year finals at the school of machismo.
And I’m not exactly a hundred percent sure why I didn’t call it a day at that point, but…..maybe I just love turning the screw to see what happens. I gave him the bedroomy-est eyes I could muster. “What’s your name?”
Right now I’m sitting here typing out this story, and I’m still not entirely sure why I’m not nursing a fat lip or a black eye. Because that obviously made him so mad that I still am not sure why it didn’t come to blows. There are cliches about eyes flaring and rage behind someones eyes and shit like that that are so overdone. But it really does look like that. When someone gets violent, their eyes just kind of “pop” with intention—pupils dilate, eyelids widen. And his did. Even sitting down he was clearly bigger than me and I was pretty sure he was kind of muscular too, so at that moment I was figuring I was probably going to need an ice pack and sympathy sex from my girlfriend by day’s end.
"DUDE," he shouted. “I’M NOT GAY."
That’s when I dropped the bedroom eyes and switched to a normal voice. “Oh well I could see not being interested didn’t matter to you when you were hitting on her, so I just thought that’s how you rolled.”
So on Robert Malliet’s FB page, he has all of the fan art in one album and totally posted all of the fanfiction on his timeline, gaaaah I love when actors really get into their characters and the fandom behind it, its so…
And…even though this is incredibly cool, it’s just another reason I will never publish my fanfic.
This year has been…interesting. There are very few aspects of my life that haven’t changed this year. Most of them have been good, if stressful, changes. It’s been an insane year. At one point, I realized that I needed to just stop. Stop worrying, stop planning, stop doing. I spent two or three months indulging, being lazy and just generally being self absorbed. I stayed up late and slept in. About the only thing I did that was productive was go to work. Otherwise, I pretty much sat in front of the computer and watched TV. I let so many things slide that I should have been doing. It was a good and much needed time.
I was sleeping much more than normal. I didn’t get to bed until about three or four in the morning, if not later. I was about as lazy as you can get.
I planned on doing this until the end of the year, about six months. Just take a much needed sabbatical. But three months into my self-indulgent laziness, I started wanting my old self again.
I soon started sleeping less, and am now back to my old schedule of sleeping a few good hours a night, which has always been my normal.
Soon, I was planning again. Getting ready for the new year. It’s going to be a busy and much awesome year. Things that I had let fall by the wayside will be picked up, brushed off and improved. Projects I’d dropped will be started again. Things will be made. MANY things will be made!
I also started getting rid of things that I no longer needed in my life. I started putting things back in my life that I have been missing, or adding things that needed to be there, but weren’t.
I will finally finish my garden. This is the biggest one, and the one I let slide the most. I pretty much have to start all over again. But that’s fine. I’ll take it section by section. I will finally have that awesome garden I’ve been dreaming about. I think I know where to put the grapes too! It’s going to be a lot of work. I’m pretty much going to double dig the entire yard to get as much grass out of it as possible. (Yes, I’d still rather double dig a tenth of an acre of land than mow!) I’ll probably even buy compost! I know, sacrilege. But…the compost pile is one of the things I let go this year. It won’t be too long before it’s up and running again though, but until then, most of the yard is still about as devoid of nutrients as you can imagine after almost thirty years worth of monthly commercial yard sprays, even after almost five years of rest & slow improvements. It needs a huge jump start. The only thing that will grow are weeds and grass. And in my mind, most grass is a weed.
I will make more cheese & charcuterie, and will expand on both. I’ll finally make that beer I’ve been wanting to do. And at least one batch of mead. Heck, maybe even make some wine. I’ll make soap. I’ll finish my quilts. I’ll also finish off those pouches. I’ll make so many things I will get scared that I’m going to run out of cloth.
I’ll write. I’ll start my journal again. Yet another thing that got dropped like a stone. They are important to me, and I miss them.
I will plan more. I will be more social. I’ll do more outside of my own little world. Heck, I even plan on having people over during the holidays next year!
I will move more. I dropped any and all exercise in the past year, or even really any pretense of it. I miss going out on the trails and dragging home cool rocks, bones and bits and pieces of things that I find on my hikes. I miss the solitude, and the occasional danger. I miss the consternation in only planning a hike of a mile or two, then realizing at mile three that I might want to head back….another three miles. I love that feeling.
You know what? In spite of not doing any real exercise, I still managed to lose almost 65 pounds this year! Five of that was even during the holiday season. It’s amazing what finally being happy will do for you.
I feel like, at the age of forty-four, I’m finally a grown-up and can live the life I want. It’s going to take an incredible amount of work, and it’s going to be tough and exhausting, but I’m finally going to be able to be that person that I’ve always wanted to be. And that is an awesome thing.
And tomorrow, if we don’t get rain, I’m going to go hiking. At the very least, I’m also going to plant garlic.
Feminists:Hey. We'd like for women to be treated as equals.
Society:Oh sure. You want "equality" but then you expect men to open the door and pay for meals, is that it? That's not equality! That's special treatment!
Feminists:Um, no not really. You don't have to open the door and pay for our meals. We can do that ourselves.
Society:*gasp* What? You don't want men to open doors for you? Why do you hate nice people? No wonder chivalry is dead! You'd yell at a man for just being polite and opening the door for you?
Feminists:No! We're just saying you don't have to do it just because we're women!
Society:And while we're at it, how come you don't protect male victims of abuse and rape, huh?
Feminists:Actually, we think it's really terrible that men are forced to stay quiet about their abuse because they're worried about not being taken seriously. It's this Alpha Male myth that causes it. Men are abused and raped and they're not helped because men are supposed to be tough and able to handle it. This also goes for men not being able to express emotions.
Society:Oh, so you just want men to be a bunch of pansies then, huh? You hate men for wanting to be strong LIKE NATURE INTENDED THEM TO BE. You'll be sorry when you end up married to some weak, simpering fool who likes to talk about his "feelings"!
Society:Also, you can't have equal rights because women aren't aggressive enough to want higher pay and stuff.
Feminists:HOW ABOUT YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON?
Society:Jesus, calm down. No need to be so aggressive.
Everyone who reblogs this will get the title of a book to read based on their bio/posts.
Everyone. I mean it.
Well…considering that I have next to nothing on my blog, and tend to hide in the woodwork and just lurk, I’m really interested to see what you, a total and complete stranger, would pick for me to read! I’m also patient. I realize that tons of people will respond to this.