MAC QUESTION and other stuff

Hey, my mac won't run Amazon Trail, it says I lack Mac OS9 and classic. What OS DO I have then? How do I download the parameters for classic, that I might play that game of games, Amazon Trail? Mac people, I don't have to go buy an atavarial os to play, do I?

Pocahantas can be viewed as a multilayer discussion of feminine sexuality. The recurring imagery of concentric ripples expanding, "So small at first, but look how they grow!"- Grandmother Willow, the specific language of the song "Paint with All the Colors of the Wind" and Grandmother Tree's musical interludes are directly, physically resonating with a female sexual experience and an aggressive condonement of it.

"Come round the hidden pine trails of the forest,
come taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth,
come roll in all the riches all around you,
and for once, never wonder what they're worth."

This while she near straddles him in a corn field, followed by:

"We are all connected to each other,
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends."

As they lay next together in the stump of a massive tree, the 'circular nature being more than just a reference to Indian communalism, but also a comment on the spreading, connecting, flowing, nature of a female sexual experience as opposed to the linear "to ejaculation, wait ten minuets, repeat" male process (this conjoins with Pocahantas's discussion of brightness expanding of color in the invisible). To be reductive, obviously-- this isn't a statement of my view so much as a possible argument the song makes.

There's NO WAY this can be viewed as a sexually-neutered interaction. Don't even get into the appearing face of Grandmother Willow in that vagina shaped indentation of the willow=clitoris argument. We could view "Hearing the wolf cry to the blue-corn moon" as orgastic, certainly something hidden, dangerous, inky and sensual. Something Pocahantas tauntingly suggest John Smith has yet to experience.

The specifics of Radcliffe's "Mine Mine Mine" song and the English invaders' possessive ethic, coupled with the shame and victim-blame heaped on Pocahantas for leaving the bounds of the village and getting attacked, presumably almost raped by John Smith, are a countercurrent to the central message. The phallic imagery in the animation for the "Now We Sound the Drums of War" song is dense.

There's something odd about her final choice being aggressive self-abnegation, though, that I'd really have to think about. Well, the actual ending, after war is averted, is Pocahantas refusing to compromise the problematic relation between herself and her people by abandoning it in an exegesis of "new, better, truer home-discovery." The simplicity of the father's decision, "If there is to be more killing, it will not start with me," is excellent, far truer and more appealing a statement than a lot of Disney films, than a lot of nonviolent rhetoric. No one gives Pocahantas enough credit as a truly excellent Disney film. The animation is amazing, Pocahantas specifically is one of the most beautiful characters ever animated. I almost cry at about six separate points in the movie.

Her bitchy friend is totally Joan Cusak. Look at that face. Listen to that trademark "I have noooo independent career outside of Toy Stoy" whine. Not literally voiced by Joan, just inhabited by her spirit.

*cough*

So I had a dinner party today. I made a batter with Matzo meal and eggs, and flash fried some salmon the way my mother flash fries, so that the centers are still raw like steak tartare. Jenna liked it better fully done, though, and they were fine that way too. I made molten sinkholes, a near flowerless chocolate cake with a molten chocolate center, topped them with strawberry ice cream and some earl-gray applesauce with lemon zest I made from scratch. The cakes weren't molten enough, something went wrong with my waterbath, but the apple sauce was EXCELLENT, and I'm proud of myself.

For my birthday what I really want is the Suicide Girls photo book and a travel chess set, the good weighted kind, which is amusing because I doubt the likelihood of receiving either from my relatives. Oh, speaking of annoying, Jenna brought Peeeetahr with her tonight. Ew? ew. Oh well. At least Kara finally got kicked off Project Runway. Peeetahr likes Santino. Omg, surprise. He's such a rebel. Which is as sexy as it is impressive.

MAC QUESTION and other stuff

Hey, my mac won't run Amazon Trail, it says I lack Mac OS9 and classic. What OS DO I have then? How do I download the parameters for classic, that I might play that game of games, Amazon Trail? Mac people, I don't have to go buy an atavarial os to play, do I?

Pocahantas can be viewed as a multilayer discussion of feminine sexuality. The recurring imagery of concentric ripples expanding, "So small at first, but look how they grow!"- Grandmother Willow, the specific language of the song "Paint with All the Colors of the Wind" and Grandmother Tree's musical interludes are directly, physically resonating with a female sexual experience and an aggressive condonement of it.

"Come round the hidden pine trails of the forest,
come taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth,
come roll in all the riches all around you,
and for once, never wonder what they're worth."

This while she near straddles him in a corn field, followed by:

"We are all connected to each other,
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends."

As they lay next together in the stump of a massive tree, the 'circular nature being more than just a reference to Indian communalism, but also a comment on the spreading, connecting, flowing, nature of a female sexual experience as opposed to the linear "to ejaculation, wait ten minuets, repeat" male process (this conjoins with Pocahantas's discussion of brightness expanding of color in the invisible). To be reductive, obviously-- this isn't a statement of my view so much as a possible argument the song makes.

There's NO WAY this can be viewed as a sexually-neutered interaction. Don't even get into the appearing face of Grandmother Willow in that vagina shaped indentation of the willow=clitoris argument. We could view "Hearing the wolf cry to the blue-corn moon" as orgastic, certainly something hidden, dangerous, inky and sensual. Something Pocahantas tauntingly suggest John Smith has yet to experience.

The specifics of Radcliffe's "Mine Mine Mine" song and the English invaders' possessive ethic, coupled with the shame and victim-blame heaped on Pocahantas for leaving the bounds of the village and getting attacked, presumably almost raped by John Smith, are a countercurrent to the central message. The phallic imagery in the animation for the "Now We Sound the Drums of War" song is dense.

There's something odd about her final choice being aggressive self-abnegation, though, that I'd really have to think about. Well, the actual ending, after war is averted, is Pocahantas refusing to compromise the problematic relation between herself and her people by abandoning it in an exegesis of "new, better, truer home-discovery." The simplicity of the father's decision, "If there is to be more killing, it will not start with me," is excellent, far truer and more appealing a statement than a lot of Disney films, than a lot of nonviolent rhetoric. No one gives Pocahantas enough credit as a truly excellent Disney film. The animation is amazing, Pocahantas specifically is one of the most beautiful characters ever animated. I almost cry at about six separate points in the movie.

Her bitchy friend is totally Joan Cusak. Look at that face. Listen to that trademark "I have noooo independent career outside of Toy Stoy" whine. Not literally voiced by Joan, just inhabited by her spirit.

*cough*

So I had a dinner party today. I made a batter with Matzo meal and eggs, and flash fried some salmon the way my mother flash fries, so that the centers are still raw like steak tartare. Jenna liked it better fully done, though, and they were fine that way too. I made molten sinkholes, a near flowerless chocolate cake with a molten chocolate center, topped them with strawberry ice cream and some earl-gray applesauce with lemon zest I made from scratch. The cakes weren't molten enough, something went wrong with my waterbath, but the apple sauce was EXCELLENT, and I'm proud of myself.

For my birthday what I really want is the Suicide Girls photo book and a travel chess set, the good weighted kind, which is amusing because I doubt the likelihood of receiving either from my relatives. Oh, speaking of annoying, Jenna brought Peeeetahr with her tonight. Ew? ew. Oh well. At least Kara finally got kicked off Project Runway. Peeetahr likes Santino. Omg, surprise. He's such a rebel. Which is as sexy as it is impressive.