It's been a while since my last post; work, family things and rugby have been keeping me very busy. I'm still enjoying the Cup very much; my lovely Christchurch parents came up for the weekend and we watched all the games in various places, the best being the Cloud for the Samoa vs Fiji game, where the atmosphere (read: Samoans) was excellent. My favourite fans (other than us) were a family who stood behind us singing and paki-paki-ing the whole game. The best moment was when time was up but the final whistle hadn't been blown and we heard a sharp blast; the father had a whistle around his neck ready for the moment. At the end they stood together in their special matching tshirts and sang. This was them:
We also went to the re-opened art gallery, which looks so great. I can only take in so much art at a time (not very much) and so much of gallery people (next to none), so a trip to the art gallery is never a long one; I could never spend an entire day there (unless half was in the cafe) the way I can a museum. I often find myself spending more time reading the description plaques than looking at the pieces (usually with ones I don't like or connect with immediately); I like knowing how something was meant by the person who made it if it doesn't have meaning for me. I also like to pick a best thing, which Vincent does also. This was mine:
It's called Golden Cloud and is by Gretchen Albrecht. The photo doesn't really do it justice but I think that's a good thing. The painting made me think of being up high, and the feeling you get like there's nothing but you and the sky and how you feel. My other favourite thing was this installation outside, which is beautiful but so sad...
And this was Vincent's, with him and his Dad talking in front of it:
It's Six Days In Nelson And Canterbury by Colin McCahon.
In other news, it's been ages since I went to the movies and I really really want to see this, this, and (I'm heartily ashamed to admit) this. I did Victorian Literature twice at university (which tells you that I love Victorian Literature and that I didn't do any coursework the first time) but didn't actually read Jane Eyre either time... Victorian novels take a bloody long time to get through, and my lecturer for that particular novel was so good I actually felt like I had read the book, although I didn't fool her when I alluded to it in one of my exam essays. Win Win is a win win for me because I really liked both The Station Agent and The Visitor, am a big fan of Paul Giamatti, and it has Bobby Canavale and Beattie in it! The last film... I'm really just being a sucker. But really, if you live in the crosshairs, isn't the way to stay there to do something expected once in a while?
Lastly, I've been thinking a bit today about intimacy; something reminded me of how my excellent niece lets me pick out bogers for her sometimes, an act that makes me feel really close to her. Last week a friend and I were talking about other people's sex habits and she was telling me her friend's argument for putting a leash on her boyfriend and lashing him with a whip while he cleans her room on his hands and knees, and how much trust that requires. We both had a very good laugh at it, and the idea of our significant others playing dog-maid, and discussed whether or not her friend had a point... Anyway, I though today about the actions that make me feel like there is trust and intimacy in a relationship (real intimacy vs forced familiarity), and for me, it's things like picking my niece's nose, or having the ingrowns on my leg squeezed out by my friend while we sit in the park; acknowledgment and acceptance of things that aren't perfect, and physical, monkeyish closeness. In my relationship with Vincent, it wasn't sex stuff that came to mind either (although my idea of showing trust and how comfortable I am differs from the dog-maid's mistress); it was having him comb my hair for nits, and his letting me be in the bathroom with him and pat his back after he's accidentally eaten nuts. Then I thought about the three circles they show you at school about how showing more of yourself to others allows to to see more of yourself, and wondered if it works the same way with being close enough to people to do things like pick their noses. I'll think some more and let you know what I come up with.