At least Kate's talking to me
We did the Brattle's Oscar party thing last night. I was quite pleased to see Million Dollar Baby beat out The Aviator in the big categories; I've got my issues with the former's subject matter, but I think Clint Eastwood made a much better movie than Martin Scorcese.

I was kind of underdressed, by which I ironically mean that I was wearing more than most of the other women. But, hey, it's winter, and I'm pragmatic about such things, so I was wearing sneakers, cords and a sweater, with my hair in a ponytail, while Kate showed up in her Little Black Dress with her shoulders and shins bare. And heels, of course. Okay, I realize that she only had to walk from her subway to the theater, and she had her coat, but I'd rather be ready to deal with the elements should the heat go out or I wind up having to lend my coat to someone less practically-attired. I know, I should expect to be the lendee in such cases, but it's weird finding out exactly which old habits die hard. I like looking good as much as anyone, but I never got the hang of dressing up.

Anyway, the experience showed that even independent film enthusiasts can act like obnoxious sports fans when primed with the proper amount of booze. Hissing Ronald Reagan during the "In Memorium" segment or The Passion of the Christ whenever does not give you the appearance of being smarter or more sophisticated than the "red staters", people. Quite the opposite. And groaning when they cut to the footage of the technical awards ceremony just marks you as ungrateful. The guy that invented that telescoping crane made just as worthwhile a contribution to the movies as the costume designer, even if it's not as sexy an accomplishment.

Besides, really, if you look at it from the right perspective with a dirty mind, that telescoping crane is damn sexy.

Anyway, how girly is making comments over the stars' appearances? Because Kate and I were doing it, and I was cool with it. I realize it's not the sort of thing I would have done (out loud) in my previous life, but there's a little comfort in fitting in with the other girls. Still, I wasn't doing it in quite the way Kate was. Seeing Jake Gyllenhaal without much in the way of hair didn't realy impact how much interest I had in potentially having sex with him, I just thought it made him look goofy. On the other hand, Halle Berry had me licking my lips, although that seemed to mostly be a reflex reaction; there was no accompanying between-the-legs sensation. And, yeah, I confided in Kate that Natalie Portman's dress scared the hell out of me. I would fall out, I just don't trust my command of my own body enough not to.

Which was good, safe conversation, and we mostly avoided the bar to avoid wandering into unsafe areas. Not entirely; she mentioned that she felt stupid for last week and the preceding month, but I said not to. In a weird way, I said, her being attracted to my old body made me feel good, like I would have had a chance with her if things had gone differently a couple years ago. "Yeah," she said, "that would have been awesome. Is that a lesbian thing to say?" I told her that trying to come up with an answer to that question made my brain hurt.

And, though I didn't say it out loud, a little sad. She's a great girl and if she and Martin-me had met... Of course, that's a wacky might-have-been - it presumes me not having my mind moved to a new brain, Martin-me not moving to Seattle, who knows what going on with Maggie.

Still, what-might-have-beens don't have to make sense.

-Martina
- posted 4:32 PM - - (archive use only)