I was running errands at lunch where I passed the set-up of the New York premiere of the last Harry Potter movie in New York. I thought of all those actors in their tuxes and fine gowns, and thought, oh boy, poor celebs are going to be incinerated by the sun, b/c it was so bloody hot today, but then I got to the street and saw all the fans already packed in like chickens in the south with signs that said stuff like “Thanks for the magic.”
Years ago, I probably would have judged them as batty, but now, as a rabid fan myself, I’m partially thinking “oh that’s a good idea, maybe I’ll go home and get my magic markers.” It’s a little weird how much I 180’d for Harry Potter. The writing is not all that, so it was incredibly difficult to get into, but once my dad got ill, I was ready to get sucked into stories that had only a distance resemblance to my everyday reality. A world of wizards, jelly beans that tasted like boogers, and a trounced-upon boy who was secretly a hero? SOUNDS GREAT!
I heart Harry Potter. I dig his goodness. I don’t have a crush on him, because he is a child, but if he were 40, I would think about it.