Not Now Gustave

There are a number of frightfully quotable lines from Love Never Dies, most of which are not fit for incorporation into civilized conversation due their obscenely ridiculous and/or ridiculously obscene nature, but “Not now, Gustave!” is always appropriate.

When you see a wretched sequel or adaptation, the only thing that can prevent it spoiling the original for you is to –quickly- try to remember what you fell in love with in the first place. Or so we told ourselves to justify seeing Love Never Dies on Monday and rushing off Wednesday morning to buy tickets to Phantom of the Opera. It took roughly 7/8 of my food stipend for the week, but it was more than worth it and eating is overrated anyways.

It’s a far darker and psychologically twisted story than I think I was able to grasp when I last saw it ten years ago and somehow unshakably compelling. I’ve already read the original book but there’s a slew of ghost written (ahaha) Phantom literature which has crept onto my summer reading list, along with researching how cathedrals are built, AP Style, and Winston Churchill. These are things I do not know enough about.

Thursday was the student council movie night, sparsely attended by four student council members and one (1) actual legitimate student. But I successfully made popcorn in a British microwave, a feat which the CAPA staff tells me has rarely if ever been accomplished before, so there’s that. The Pub night will be better attended.

Friday was a CAPA orchestrated boat trip to Greenwich. Yes I did manage to get sunburned from a mere 45 minute jaunt on the upper deck of a Thames river boat, but as I’ve got the sun defenses of an albino that’s hardly surprising and the views were worth it (…or were they? As much as working in the fashion industry might destroy one’s body image working in the skincare industry does terrifying things to one’s perspective of their skin. What we need here is some Murad Active Radiance Serum and Murad Essential C Eye Cream.)

The Royal Observatory was really neat, although the historical implications were not quite as cool for me as being in the key locale of ‘The Secret Agent’ which I had to read earlier for British Fiction. The Greenwich market was also adorable. Successful navigation of the Docklands Light Rail system and outer tube lines to get home.

Afterwards I went to the British Museum basically just to see the Rosetta Stone. The other exhibits are not particularly entrancing -a statue, a mosaic, another statue, some coins, oh look a statue- except for their age and sheer quantity and the fact that nearly every one of them is stolen from other countries.

On the home front: I have classes for next semester, basically the right ones, but not enough of them. By which I mean I’ve got five and I wouldn’t know what to do with fewer than six by this point but the Pittsburgh Filmmaker’s classes are being excessively tricky to get into.

Today my aunt and uncle and twin cousins come to visit! I'm off to brave the swans in the park and try to meet them at their hotel, wish me luck. Fiendish swans.