(2nd) May 2009 Weekend Status Report

Good Lord, why is self so groggy?

Could it be because she and son caught the 10:05 p.m. showing of “Star Trek” (the Digital Projection screening) and before that self had been in the City and even further before that, was at Stanford with son, listening to him present his research findings on “Childhood Cognitive Development in the Global Community”?

Dinner was The Counter on California Avenue in Palo Alto.  Hubby had the 2/3 lb. beef burger, self had the 1/3-lb. beef burger, and son had the “Burger Special of the Day,” stribs of sirloin steak.  The burgers arrived looking like little erupting volcanoes, draped in fried onion rings, chopped green onions, avocado, horseradish, lettuce and tomatoes.  There was also the appetizer sampler:  fried sweet potato strips, french fries, and deep-fried potato skins.  Afterwards, when waiter inquired if our party wanted dessert, self felt there was something highly obscene about the question.  Yet all around us were very thin teen-agers of all possible races, scarfing down burgers and fries and thick, gloppy milk shakes and, yes, ordering dessert.

Later, walking around downtown RWC with son at 10 p.m., the streets were full of strolling families, and the restaurants next to the movie theatre —  Citrine, Portobello, and even over-priced Marble Slab Creamery  —  had lots of customers.  When we exited the theatre, a little past midnight, downtown had turned into a ghost town.

Most of the audience in the theatre last night were couples, a majority Asian.  What’s up with that?  Young Spock is still hot.  Chris Pine is improving on longer acquaintance.  Simon Pegg is ha, ha, ha funny.  Self still loves it when Uhura says, “I’ll be monitoring your frequency.”  Red matter and J. J. Abrams are still the coolest things in the current universe.

Now that self knows that Clifton Collins was a Romulan, she noticed him on-screen and all he did was snarl, but very convincingly.  Also, there is something asymmetric about his face.  Do dear blog readers know that Collins is the Romulan who gets tossed off a causeway by intrepid Jim Kirk, near the end of the movie?

Reading New Yorker story of almost a month ago (“Vast Hell” by Guillermo Martinez), self is struck by how much he sounds like T. C. Boyle.  Or perhaps he sounds like Roberto Bolaño.  (“They’d come from the city the previous summer, at the beginning of the season, and when Cerviño opened his barbershop I remember thinking that he’d soon send Old Melchor under, because he had a hairdresser’s diploma and had won a prize in a crewcutting competition, and he owned a pair of electric clippers, a hair dryer, and a swivel chair, and he would sprinkle vegetable extracts onto your scalp and even spray some lotion on you if you didn’t stop him in time.”)  But she doesn’t know anything about him, so perhaps it is the other way around:  for all she knows it is T. C. Boyle who sounds like him, ditto Bolaño.

Son drives back to San Luis Obispo today.  What has happened to the weekend?  All self did was blink —  then it was gone.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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