Monday, August 6, 2007  Hot tamale  When I was young and
younger, I hated any fireworks louder than a sparkler. Couldn't
stand spicy food. Hid from horror novels. Scorned violent movies
and the people who loved them. Now I'm the one who adores BOOMS
that make my ribs vibrate, pours Tabasco sauce on everything
from grits to gravy, watches spooky stuff with a grin and a
pleasurable shiver. And I saw The Bourne Ultimatum yesterday and
loved it. (If you've been reading along in this blog, you
already know that I think there are few movies than cannot be
improved by a velociraptor, or two.)  Maybe all my senses have
dulled, and that accounts for the dramatic change? Maybe it just
takes more to get me to hear it, taste it, feel it? That might
actually be true when it comes to taste. But my hearing's fine.
I can still hear whispers and I still love a good sweet love
story. No, there's just something in me that actually enjoys
some kinds of intensity more than it used to. I don't know why.
I was thinking, yesterday,