I rented "Frida" on DVD last night. I enjoyed this movie a lot. I didn't know much about Frida Kahlo's life before seeing this movie. This movie educated me. The movie obviously made the most of a small budget. I admired that. The animation sequences weren't slick, but they were imaginative, which, now that I think about it, fit in perfectly with the theme of Frida's art. (Gripe number one: The trip to New York sequence reminded me a little too much of the trip to New York sequence in "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid." The trip to Paris sequence, however, with the spinning postcard rack, was a brilliant way get around the problem of not being able to afford location shots. Gripe number two: The bonus features were nothing special, and certainly didn't merit a second disc.)

I am beginning to understand why some people object to the term "magic realism." The argument, I've read, is that the term is used too often to catagorize Central and South American culture into a neat little stereotype. This was certainly the case with many reviews I've read of "Frida." Reviewers call this movie an excellent example of magic realism. Reviewers point to the gold flakes flying through the air during the trolley crash and call that "magic realism." But it was clearly explained how the gold got there. It was grounded firmly in reality. The fantasy sequences in the movie were clearly fantasy. That is not magic realism. A priest levitating by means of chocolate (in One Hundred Years Of Solitude) and presented as a real occurance - now that's magic realism.

Last weekend, Lynn loaned me her copy of Dougie MacLean's CD Riof. She was right. I am enjoying this music a lot. It's mellow and exciting at the same time. I think this is a sign that I have lost my taste for pop music.

The song stuck in my head this morning is "Pass The Dutchie," by Musical Youth. Once again, I have no idea how that song got into my head. (Trivia: A dutchie is a cooking pot. The song is a remake of "Pass The Kouchie" by The Mighty Diamonds. A kouchie is a pipe used to smoke marijuana. Isn't the internet great?)

"Arcadio had seen her many times working in her parents' small food store but he had never taken a good look at her because she had that rare virtue of never existing completely except at the opportune moment." - One Hundred Years Of Solitude

Man, I love that book.

I feel the need to clarify something. In real life, I have never been convicted of a crime. I've never even been arrested. I have no criminal record. But, in the dream, I did. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if criminal records ever get erased.

I had a dream this morning that I was in some sort of official interview (job interview? credit application?) when the interviewer uncovered my hidden criminal record. I was upset and angry (in the dream), because I'd been told that after some amount of time, my conviction would be erased from my record.

¡Español es fácil! The only trick seems to be memorizing words, but once you know the name of something, putting it into a sentence is a breeze.

I have been sleepy for the past several days. This heat is making it difficult to sleep at night. I get up in the morning, and my hair is soaked with sweat.

For most of this morning, I thought today was Thursday.

There's another boat fire on Lake Union right now. That's been happening a lot lately.

What is it with patients who show up an hour early for their appointments and then complain about having to sit in the waiting room for an hour? We had two such people today. I loved the first patient's argument: "I'm very busy, and I don't have time to sit around all morning!" (I felt like telling her, "If you're so busy, why did you show up here so early?" - But, of course, I didn't.)

I found some web sites this morning that said a group of squirrels is called a dray, and I found some other web sites that said that since squirrels are such solitary animals that no name has been established for a group of them, and that a dray is the name of their nest. I saw at least three groups of squirrels on campus this morning. First, there were three squirrels loitering around the flagpole. Then I saw two squirrels looking for breakfast in the bushes. Then I saw four or five, or maybe six, raiding a garbage can together.

For the next seven days, I will strive to be a better vegetarian. No more "cheating."

I could probably spend as much time reading about One Hundred Years Of Solitude as I have reading the book itself. For me, this book is as much a puzzle as it is a novel. (And I do love puzzles.) Is there a deeper meaning to the insomnia plague and the amnesia that follows it? Or is the point how the people of Macondo deal with it?

I almost forgot! Yesterday morning, I found another hat in the middle of the street. (Phillip spotted it first.) This one was in front of Lynn's apartment building.