pearwaldorf | Bibbling. Boyslash. Not in that order necessarily.

Rented the Two Towers DVD and skipped straight to the special features (I want to wait for the extended version before watching it again, and I think for 99 cents I can do so). To give you an idea of what a bloody sap I've become in the past few years (two steps from crying at long distance commercials, or whatever the cliche is), I cried during the preview of Return of the King. Because, Frodo! Sam! Sam doing to Frodo that thing that's in the 2004 LotR calendar! And that was not meant to be dirty, however it sounds. Honest.

And it's not just because I am all about the Slashy Hobbit Love. Every time I see one of those amazing arcing shots of Edoras or those snow-covered mountains in New Zealand (Howard Shore score optional), I think I understand what a grubby medieval peasant must have felt like, looking at Chartres or Notre Dame or a caveman emerging out of the primordial muck and seeing the stars. That sense of awe, and being confronted by something so much huger than yourself. Sitting in the movie theater, seeing something like that for the first time, you're aware of the utter and profound lack of wonder in everyday life. Amusement there is in plenty, but no real sense of wonder or awe. It probably says something quite uncomplimentary about me that I derive more inspiration from sitting in a man-made environment of nylon-blend seat covers and painstakingly calibrated THX speakers and watching a movie directed by a man who heretofore has done nothing but cheesy slasher films (I think it's totally great that Jackson blurbs positively for Cabin Fever and lists him as director of LotR instead of one of his other earlier works) than actually getting out into the fresh air and gawking at God's green earth instead.

But I don't care, because I have lots of pictures of boys kissing, thanks to the lovely and wonderful