Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, January 22, 2003

The air quietly congealed around us throughout the afternoon to form distinct spheres of existence: the area in which you directly occupied and spheres of light that would float in the thick, viscous night that ultimately settled. Everything in-between dissolved in the fog or perhaps froze into a solid blackness, and the accompanying chill that has descended is forbidding. Fortunately, I've thought ahead and prepared a pot roast that will stand and defend my apartment from frigid intrusion as it cooks, putting my crock pot -- a Christmas gift from my mom -- to use for the first time.

Despite the inhospitable weather, Leif and I braved the low-visibility and chill to see and 8 o'clock showing of Bowling for Columbine at the Peak. I enjoyed it immensely. Was anyone else won over by Marilyn Mason? I could not have expected his wit, his dead-on antics, nor his sympathetic wisdom, and my opinion of him has made a 90-degree turn-about (never being that opposed to him, rather more ambivalent towards his noteworthiness, which has now been replaced with something close to admiration).

And while appreciating the message Michael Moore was trying to make, I felt it was a little unfair the way celebrity spokespersons -- such as Dick Clark and Charlton Heston -- were scapegoated for problems that no one can shoulder responsbility for, their silence or unwillingness to talk held against them as though it were indicative of a much larger picture. In these circumstances, I don't think there is much one can say about such weight and speculation.