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Remembering Titanic.
Apr. 16th, 2012 04:54 amSo, on the actual night of the anniversary of the sinking, I was having a bad time and didn't really get to do much. I found myself on IMVU, on an incredibly elaborate and HUGE chat room that someone made up. I know, IMVU, it seems silly and trite, but this rebuilding from bits and bobs from the catalogue was so beautifully done, such a labour of love. And I found everyone in the room on the poop deck, dancing to music in the closest approximations of Edwardian garb as they could get. There were balloons. It was so touching, I cried a bit.
I'm not sure why. I guess because it wasn't ... it wasn't artificial. These people went to the trouble to get it all right, you know? And after talking to them, it was clear that they knew their stuff. I told them I was honoured to spend such a night with them, and I was.
I remembered my days in the 90s with my old friends; Karen, Jo, a couple of other women whose names I forget, Lisa. I still have the necklace one of the women made for me (she excelled at beading). I treasure it. I wear it on special occasions, and I know I'm wearing a real work of art. It features in self-portraits, it's a part of me now.
Tonight, my brother and I got around to doing what we anted to do on Saturday. We watched our favourite Titanic movie, "A Night To Remember." Beautiful. Even in black and white, with models and what-not, it makes me cry at the end. It was fucking good writing, and good acting, and thoughtful juxtapositions. The newer Titanic is so overwrought and distanced compared to this one. I guess because mostly Americans made that one, and in this one, the Brits made it, and knew their own people better.
Of course, don't make me choose between the Thomas Andrews. Both were really gorgeous, and I couldn't choose, not really. Victor Garber, the other guy, they can Eiffel Tower me. (Well, one's gay and one's dead, so you know, in my dreams).
I remember the first memory I have of hearing about the Titanic. I was a wee little one, and it was mentioned in the Ghostbusters movie. The next time, I read about it in a book of unexplained mysteries, where it brought up the novel, "The Wreck of the Titan" (Or as it was known then, Futility? Sommin' like that, I'm too fucked on codeine to remember correctly). I thought that was so eerie. The eerieness lead me to read about the real story, and the real tragedy is what pulled me in to stay. Also, being a lover of boats and grand designs, the Titanic itself seemed like a lost treasure to me. What a beautiful ship. There are a lot of flashy cruise ships in the world these days. I think the QEII was the last of a particular class that Titanic was a member of. The only ones even close to that are Dutch, of all things (I'm serious, they build beautiful cruise ships).
This post doesn't have much of a focus (it's the drugs, as I said), but I wanted to commemorate this time. It's huge. The sinking of the Titanic was one of those moments that changed human consciousness. Humanity was getting so damned cocky with the Industrial Revolution. It was a giant slap in the face, a reminder that one single thing in nature, one tiny swat of Mother Nature's hand, and we were a mess again, back to basics, scrabbling for survival. I think that's a powerful message, and I think that's why Titanic's story is so powerful to us. It's not just the loss of lives, or the irony, or the disbelief of it all.
It's the fact that we thought we had the ocean licked, and the ocean, fierce, unpredictable force that she is, reminded us who's boss. We were so fucking sure, we thought we were king of it all.
Anyway, I lift a glass of fizzy drink to those lost, to those still haunted by its loss, and to the most beautiful liner to ever grace our oceans. God bless her, and all who sailed upon her.
I'm not sure why. I guess because it wasn't ... it wasn't artificial. These people went to the trouble to get it all right, you know? And after talking to them, it was clear that they knew their stuff. I told them I was honoured to spend such a night with them, and I was.
I remembered my days in the 90s with my old friends; Karen, Jo, a couple of other women whose names I forget, Lisa. I still have the necklace one of the women made for me (she excelled at beading). I treasure it. I wear it on special occasions, and I know I'm wearing a real work of art. It features in self-portraits, it's a part of me now.
Tonight, my brother and I got around to doing what we anted to do on Saturday. We watched our favourite Titanic movie, "A Night To Remember." Beautiful. Even in black and white, with models and what-not, it makes me cry at the end. It was fucking good writing, and good acting, and thoughtful juxtapositions. The newer Titanic is so overwrought and distanced compared to this one. I guess because mostly Americans made that one, and in this one, the Brits made it, and knew their own people better.
Of course, don't make me choose between the Thomas Andrews. Both were really gorgeous, and I couldn't choose, not really. Victor Garber, the other guy, they can Eiffel Tower me. (Well, one's gay and one's dead, so you know, in my dreams).
I remember the first memory I have of hearing about the Titanic. I was a wee little one, and it was mentioned in the Ghostbusters movie. The next time, I read about it in a book of unexplained mysteries, where it brought up the novel, "The Wreck of the Titan" (Or as it was known then, Futility? Sommin' like that, I'm too fucked on codeine to remember correctly). I thought that was so eerie. The eerieness lead me to read about the real story, and the real tragedy is what pulled me in to stay. Also, being a lover of boats and grand designs, the Titanic itself seemed like a lost treasure to me. What a beautiful ship. There are a lot of flashy cruise ships in the world these days. I think the QEII was the last of a particular class that Titanic was a member of. The only ones even close to that are Dutch, of all things (I'm serious, they build beautiful cruise ships).
This post doesn't have much of a focus (it's the drugs, as I said), but I wanted to commemorate this time. It's huge. The sinking of the Titanic was one of those moments that changed human consciousness. Humanity was getting so damned cocky with the Industrial Revolution. It was a giant slap in the face, a reminder that one single thing in nature, one tiny swat of Mother Nature's hand, and we were a mess again, back to basics, scrabbling for survival. I think that's a powerful message, and I think that's why Titanic's story is so powerful to us. It's not just the loss of lives, or the irony, or the disbelief of it all.
It's the fact that we thought we had the ocean licked, and the ocean, fierce, unpredictable force that she is, reminded us who's boss. We were so fucking sure, we thought we were king of it all.
Anyway, I lift a glass of fizzy drink to those lost, to those still haunted by its loss, and to the most beautiful liner to ever grace our oceans. God bless her, and all who sailed upon her.
