Communion

The words which express our faith and piety are not definite; yet they are significant and fragrant like frankincense to superior natures.
-- Henry David Thoreau

Sunday, May 16, 1999
One year ago: Street Fair
Two years ago: A Petrified Fountain of Thought

Today was my nephew J---'s first communion, so I got up earlier than I otherwise would have, and went over to my sister's place in time to walk the few blocks to the church with her family. J--- was excited, and also was feeling some performance anxiety because he'd be doing one of the readings.

They did a good job with the mass, but I didn't approve of the sermon. The priest walked around and asked questions of the kids, Phil Donahue style. I'd rather he just talked to us for a few minutes!

Punch and cake in the social hall afterwards, then we walked back to the house and had an informal brunch. The adults all traded stories about our own first communions. I remember being traumatized when a nun spoke sharply to me for whispering, while in line for confession. I wasn't used to such treatment, being a teacher's pet in school and all.

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Then it was off to the festival. The first thing on Sunday is the Secret Festival, where they show movies that can't be shown legally for various reasons -- rights disputes, works in progress, studio nervousness, or whatever. You have to sign an oath that you'll never reveal what you see!

I usually try and get there early. It's always a sellout, and if one wants one's choice of seats, one must line up around nine AM for a twelve thirty show! But today, because of my family stuff, I didn't get there until an hour before. I was irritated -- the book I'd brought turned out to be unreadably bad. I must remember not to get any more by that author. (This isn't always easy with romance novels; they tend to blend together.)

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In between shows, I wandered over to the QFC grocery store to look for something to read. There weren't any books I wanted, so I got a copy of Architectural Digest instead. The Cinnabon branch there has closed, which I was shocked and saddened to see. But I did remember to get shampoo at the drugstore on the upper level. I also indulged myself with a gingerlily therapy starter kit, with lotion, shower gel, aroma oil, and a tiny cologne spray. It actually does smell a bit like ginger! That company (the same ones that do the green teatherapy) has its finger on the pulse of my demographic group, evidently, since I've been a consistent buyer from them for a year and half.

During the second break, I had a nice dinner of House Special Chow Fun at the Chinese carryout where I've eaten before. When I got back to the theater, I was chattering away to my buddy Jon Newman. It came to me that I was being so vocal because I'd been on my own all day (A----, my regular festival buddy, was at another theater today) and hadn't been able to talk to anyone.

• Keepers of the Frame
  This was a documentary about film preservation, but it really didn't say anything new. There have been a number of such films over the past few years. It was good enough, though, and the film makers were very earnest. They were preaching to the choir with this audience.

• Buttoners
  I really enjoyed this Czech comedy, though it was a bit uneven. There were several interlocking stories, mostly tied together by a taxi driver picking up various fares and dealing with them. I recommend it!